For the first time since I arrived in Nicaragua, I wasn't leaving town for the weekend, so after a leisurely breakfast Saturday morning, I strolled downtown in search of the Ruben Dario Museum. Ruben Dario is the most famous poet in Central America, and is a native son of Nicaragua. I walked for over an hour in search of this mysterious building (that happens to be right next door to Comedor Lissette, where I have eaten about 5 times).
After wandering around the museum (not at all like the museums in the States—everything was in black and white, for one, and many of the text displays showed serious signs of dirt and aging) for a bit, I ventured back out onto the street in search of lunch. One block north of the Museo was a little bodega that claimed it served the best refrescos in town. Since I can't seem to pass up the opportunity for a fruit drink in this country, I immediately entered the place and ordered an orange-pineapple fresco sin azucar, which turned out wonderful. So wonderful that I asked for another and an avocado sandwich on top of it. It was so nice to eat something not fried and not involving chicken (the safest meat to eat, and thus the one I choose 9 times of out 10).
Later that evening, I passed Anne's house and she invited me to this prayer group she goes to on Saturday nights at her neighbor's house. As we were about to knock on the door, Anne asked me, “How do you feel about being prayed over in tongues? It'll be translated.” Having never been prayed for in tongues (never mind by charismatic Catholics), I did not know what to expect.
When we entered the room, there were about 12 Nicaraguans there, including Don Benne, the only person besides Anne I knew. The prayer meeting had already started and several people in the group were praying aloud simultaneously or in agreement with one another (it's hard to tell when it's in your second language). After praying and singing for a while, I was startled when one of the woman gently took my hand and led me across the circle of chairs to the other side where 2 men and 1 woman laid hands on me. The woman prayed for me in Spanish, and then the 2 men began to pray...they alternated speaking in tongues and translating for one another as they did. Much of what they prayed for was for God to remove my worries and anxieties and burdens and anything not of Him. As the prayer meeting went on, several other people were prayed over in a similar manner, interspersed with songs of praise. Towards the end, Don Benne read a portion of scripture and then asked those of us who had been prayed over how we felt now. I could honestly say (in Spanish) that I felt better than when I arrived. “Como?” Don Benne asked. “Con la paz de Dios, la alegria de Cristo, y la presencia del Espiritu Santo”, I answered. “Eres catolica?” he inquired. “Soy evangelica,” I answered. “Pero soy cristiana primera.”
I didn't know what to make of the wide eyed looks I received. It is extremely rare here for evangelicals and catholics to talk to each other about spiritual things, never mind pray together. There is a serious divide between the 2 groups here, a sad witness to the unity of the body Christ prayed for during his last hours on earth.
After the prayer meeting, Anne invited me over for tea and we chatted about the experience, parents, God's redemptive power over our lives, counseling, dealing with pain and the process of growth as Christians we experience. I am so glad I have had all this quality time with her and Heather before moving to Managua. Their friendship has been a blessing.
Gracias Senor por todos tus bendiciones este dia. Tu eres maravilloso, lindo, poderoso, lleno de amor y misercordia y bondad. O Agua Vivo y Pan de Vida, gracias porque Tu me has dado todo que necesito para vivir. Aleluia!
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