Making All Things New 

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” — Psalm 56:3 

Lay missioners in Bolivia (Ana, Gaby, and Josh) celebrate Palm Sunday in Cochabamba.

“This isn’t how I thought it would be.” I can imagine this is what some of Jesus’ disciples thought to themselves after Christ ascended and they were left on their own. Perhaps they had hoped that Jesus would be a conquering messiah who would deliver the Jews from oppression and establish a kingdom of prosperity. He had spoken so much about the Kingdom of Heaven, surely they would witness its manifestation. 

If anything, I imagine Jesus’ disciples were left confused and grieving as the one they dearly loved was seemingly taken from them. Of course, as Christians we know that Christ’s Ascension wasn’t the end of the story. As Pentecost approaches, I’ve pondered the experience of the first disciples after the death and resurrection of our Lord, and how I see certain themes from that story reflected in my time as a Maryknoll lay missioner. Themes like having crushed expectations give way to new understandings, helplessness give way to hope, and death give way to life. 

The parallel isn’t perfect. I’m not trying to say that my time as a missioner can be likened in all aspects to the physical loss of our Lord and Savior. However, this part of the salvation story has helped me reflect on where I’ve ended up over the past year, and how I see myself moving forward as a lay missioner. 

I’ve been a lay missioner in Bolivia for over a year now, and I’m still wrestling with the realization that this isn’t how I thought it would be. It hasn’t been all been difficult. The lay missioners here welcomed me with open arms and have been so helpful in getting me acclimated to life here. However, at times reality butts against expectations, and that can create a crisis within oneself. 

Maryknoll fathers celebrate mass with the Santísima Trinidad community.

I wrestle with the fact that there are some things about mission that don’t fit the self-fulfillment narrative I had when I first arrived. Sometimes you face challenges that are unexpected and outside of your areas of expertise. Other times those on the margins don’t respond to your efforts in the ways that you’d like. There are moments where it feels as if nothing is progressing, and you feel stuck. At times my prayers looked something like this: “God, this isn’t the experience I thought I signed up for. I thought I would feel heroic doing this, or at least satisfied with the work that I’m doing. I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake and that I’m the wrong person to do something like this. Why did you bring me here?” 

“Why did you bring me here?” The disciples may have asked themselves something very similar, huddled in that upper room after the Ascension, waiting in fear and uncertainty. But we know that the darkness of the upper room wasn’t the end of the story. What once were spaces filled with naïve expectations are now being transformed. As the Scripture says, “See, I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5). 

While waiting in the upper room, the apostles received something better than they could have dreamed of. I see my experience here in the same way. It’s felt like a purging of the old so that I can be filled with something new. It’s not the most pleasant experience, but with every death the Christian finds resurrection. And now I’m beginning to feel that God has been creating a new capacity within me to love those I’m serving and to see Him in the work that I’m doing. 

Lay missioner Gaby visiting one of the abuelas in Santísima Trinidad.

My desire and prayer this Pentecost is that all of us in mission walk through our daily deaths and resurrections with joy and trust in the Lord, open to the Spirit that rushes in when we least expect it. 

We step across the small stream that runs right by Doña Francesca’s house. She’s too old and weak to make it to Sunday mass, so we make sure to bring her Holy Communion every Saturday that we’re there. We walk up to the house, which in its simplicity consists of wooden boards under a roof of metal sheets. Gaby, one of the lay missioners from El Salvador, and I stand by while Father Mike Bassano calls out in Spanish to see if Doña Francesca is home. We’re invited in by her daughter and make our way over to her bedside. She greets all of us and helps us light a candle before we start. We make conversation, sing together, pray for her and her family, and give her Holy Communion. As we get ready to leave, we get up and each of us goes to give her a hug. When I go to give her a hug, Doña Francesca pulls me in even closer, eyes bright, and earnestly thanks us for visiting her. It’s taken me a while to recognize Christ right in front of me, thanking me for visiting every Saturday. We say our goodbyes and cross back over the stream.