Panama | Jeff
I’m not sure why I agreed to write the blog post about our trip to Panama. It was my first mission trip, so there’s no way I’m not qualified, but that’s apropos of my experience in Panama. I wasn’t qualified to get on that plane, to get in the van, to evangelize to complete strangers about the love and grace of our Heavenly Father. Writing this now, months away from Panama, I’m in tears thinking about those people, those we helped and those who helped. I always tell my students - I’m a high school English teacher - that they should write to discover and to refine their thinking. I’m realizing that I’m doing that right now. I’ve discovered this - I don’t need to be qualified to talk about the love and grace of God, the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, and the power of the Holy Spirit. They are my qualification, and that is the most incredible teaching I received on this trip. That’s all any of us need.
I’m ashamed to admit this, but in over 30 years of being a Christian, I haven’t evangelized much. Truthfully, I talked more about Jesus in one week in Panama than I had in decades. I have to admit this because it’s part of my story about this trip. On our second day of ministering to people, we visited a home church on the outskirts of Panama City. Chickens roaming around, feral cats and dogs in the high grass, heat that pressed on my lungs and settled heavily on my skin. Spanish everywhere (I don’t speak a word of it). We arrived just after 8 am and got to work making this home church into a mobile health evangelical unit. Outside was the medical team and children’s ministry, inside the adult ministry. I knew that today I’d be evangelizing, and I was almost sick to my stomach about it. Should I stick to a type of classic evangelical script (“
Do you know Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?”, “Do you go to church?”, “If you died today, would it be flames or white puffy clouds and Jesus?”) or just speak from the heart? I listened to season pros like David, Gaven, Eric, Connor, Wendell, Ruth…and I got more anxious. They just seemed to be so patient, so thoughtful. I don’t have a great memory for Bible verses; I’m a walking paraphrase. I can recall stories and concepts, but chapter and verse? Nope. I hovered, watched, and listened. Then Gaven asked, “Want this one, Jeff?” I have to think that it was the Holy Spirit who said, “Yep.”
I didn’t know Cecil, Lydiana, Josue, Felicia, Anna, Daisy, Doris, Nora, Yasiris, Concepcion, Enrique…but the Holy Spirit did. After that first day, on that bus ride back to the hotel, I could barely keep it together. I just felt so close to God, to Jesus, to the Holy Spirit. The others seemed to be so relaxed and joyful; I was only the latter. I’m an only child and an introvert and I was desperate for some time to myself. What had I just seen? Heard? Felt? I got in the shower to get rid that layer of humidity that would become oddly comforting by the end of the week and I sat on the shower floor and cried like a child. I was sad, not because of grief, but of this feeling that I wouldn’t see so many of those people again, some of whom had just listened to our testimonies with silence and hollowness and others with smiles and hugs and handshakes.
“Trust the seed.” - Wendell Davis. Wendell was a steadfast voice for me on this trip. He and Gaven and Connor listened to my fears, my joys, my questions. There were Panamanians who accepted Christ, others who rededicated, some just walked away after listening. “Trust the seed.” Maybe that seed was a wound dressing, the surgical removal of a cyst, pain medication, playing catch with a little boy who had no idea how to throw a frisbee but worked at it after being shown how…trust the seed. I’ll never forget that. It takes the pressure off. Before the trip, I thought I had to know exactly how to meet every hard question about Jesus with the perfect answer. I wasn’t qualified. What I realized was that I wasn’t putting my trust in the Holy Spirit, and I hadn’t realized the extent of God’s grace in my life. So much “I.” It’s Him.
Jeff Duda, Panama 2026
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