This term was recently coined by a dear friend of mine as I shared with her a recent example of how something which I, at first, felt to be an incovenience, turned out to be orchestrated by God. A dang moment occurs when something unexpected and inconvenient changes our intended course of direction for that day. Our first response is often to think, feel, and/or say “dang” (or some variation) as our carefully thought-out plans are altered in ways beyond our control. It is an opportunity to trust in God and His goodness, even when we can’t see the sense in it all. Sometimes, but not always, God allows us to see His purpose behind the “dang moment”. Such is the case described below.
One Thursday morning, Alekcey, Giovanni, and I drove as far as the road would take us into the reservation, close to the nearby Cabécar community of Tsimiriñak. Our purpose that day was to evaluate the termite-ridden structure of the health outpost in anticipation of its renovation by a team in September. We were just about to leave when a group of “outsiders” arrived, including government workers from the National Commission of Indigenous Affairs and a few volunteers who had brought some donated clothes to distribute to the Cabécar people. We briefly greeted them, and were about to be on our way to leave them to their “paternalistic, look-at-the-poor-indians-and-aren’t-we-so-great-to-be-giving-them-things” activities, when one of the volunteers tells us that he left his rented vehicle in the middle of the road when he could go no further (apparently some malfunction with the four-wheel-drive), essentially leaving us trapped for the time being. Rather than volunteer to move his vehicle so we could leave and go on with our day, he asked us to wait until they finished with their planned activity with the community (essentially, handing out clothes). Faced with no other choice, we waited.
After a while of waiting, Alekcey decided that we should head over to the pla
za to see what they were doing. Honestly, I had no desire to be a witness to yet another grab-fest of donated items, the majority of which I knew we would later see strewn on the trail. Sure enough, when we got there they were handing out thick, heavy sweaters that I knew the people would never wear in the warm climate of that community. I headed over to mingle with some of my Cabecar women aquaintances, while Alekcey spoke with some of the volunteers. He shared with them about our mission, vision, and development-minded approach. The volunteers immediately recognized the value in what Alekcey was sharing with them, particularly regarding why we don’t usually give things away.
Soon, we were all heading back to our respective vehicles, when Alekcey shared with me the volunteer’s receptiveness to what he had to say. I was immediately convicted – after all, hadn’t I been in that very spot a few years ago until I had the opportunity to be gently corrected in my way of thinking? It was at this moment that I began to recognize the greater purpose in our being “trapped”.
We invited the group over to our place in Paso Marcos for drinks, snacks, and a brief tour of the facilities. As we sat around the table in our dining area, we shared thoughts, experiences, plans, and ideas. By the end of their time with us, we had made new friends and government contacts, and were invited to the next meeting of the National Commission of Indigineous Affairs, which is the government entity over all the indigineous peoples of Costa Rica.
After they left, I sat down to reflect on the lessons taught to me that day, as God reminded me in His gracious and gentle way who I am and who He is.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
Isaiah 55:8-9
One Thursday morning, Alekcey, Giovanni, and I drove as far as the road would take us into the reservation, close to the nearby Cabécar community of Tsimiriñak. Our purpose that day was to evaluate the termite-ridden structure of the health outpost in anticipation of its renovation by a team in September. We were just about to leave when a group of “outsiders” arrived, including government workers from the National Commission of Indigenous Affairs and a few volunteers who had brought some donated clothes to distribute to the Cabécar people. We briefly greeted them, and were about to be on our way to leave them to their “paternalistic, look-at-the-poor-indians-and-aren’t-we-so-great-to-be-giving-them-things” activities, when one of the volunteers tells us that he left his rented vehicle in the middle of the road when he could go no further (apparently some malfunction with the four-wheel-drive), essentially leaving us trapped for the time being. Rather than volunteer to move his vehicle so we could leave and go on with our day, he asked us to wait until they finished with their planned activity with the community (essentially, handing out clothes). Faced with no other choice, we waited.
After a while of waiting, Alekcey decided that we should head over to the pla
za to see what they were doing. Honestly, I had no desire to be a witness to yet another grab-fest of donated items, the majority of which I knew we would later see strewn on the trail. Sure enough, when we got there they were handing out thick, heavy sweaters that I knew the people would never wear in the warm climate of that community. I headed over to mingle with some of my Cabecar women aquaintances, while Alekcey spoke with some of the volunteers. He shared with them about our mission, vision, and development-minded approach. The volunteers immediately recognized the value in what Alekcey was sharing with them, particularly regarding why we don’t usually give things away.Soon, we were all heading back to our respective vehicles, when Alekcey shared with me the volunteer’s receptiveness to what he had to say. I was immediately convicted – after all, hadn’t I been in that very spot a few years ago until I had the opportunity to be gently corrected in my way of thinking? It was at this moment that I began to recognize the greater purpose in our being “trapped”.
We invited the group over to our place in Paso Marcos for drinks, snacks, and a brief tour of the facilities. As we sat around the table in our dining area, we shared thoughts, experiences, plans, and ideas. By the end of their time with us, we had made new friends and government contacts, and were invited to the next meeting of the National Commission of Indigineous Affairs, which is the government entity over all the indigineous peoples of Costa Rica.
After they left, I sat down to reflect on the lessons taught to me that day, as God reminded me in His gracious and gentle way who I am and who He is.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
Isaiah 55:8-9
