In the summer of 1993, I wanted to be part of an internship program I saw advertised. The Department of State was looking for bilingual, political science students to work in Columbia. One of my political science professors wrote a letter of recommendation for me. I had to have two. So I went to my advisor who was one of my Spanish professors, and asked if he would write one?
He told me he would prefer to see a guy go to Columbia rather than me. I was so offended. “Why? My Spanish is good enough!” I replied.
“Aimee, it is very dangerous in Columbia right now. I just would not feel comfortable with you going. But if you talk to your parents, and they agree to it, I will write your second letter.”
Ha. Piece of cake. I was 19 years old, and didn’t really need for my parents to okay it, but I would still ask. (After all, my father was paying for my tuition).
I called my dad at his office, that very afternoon. I excitedly explained the internship and how I could spend the summer in Columbia! Working in politics and using my Spanish! This would certainly help me work my way toward my dream of becoming an Ambassador one day!
“Absolutely not,” my dad told me.
“But dad! International experience! In both politics and Spanish! And I will get credit!” I pleaded.
“No way, Aimee. No. Not just no, but hell no.”
“Don’t you want to go home and talk to mom about it, first?” (I asked what I thought was a very reasonable request).
“Absolutely not,” my dad laughed. “Do you honestly think your mother is going to say anything different?”
I was devastated. Absolutely devastated. How could my dad deny this opportunity for me to begin fulfilling my dream? I prayed so hard for God to change my dad’s mind. For my professor to say, “Sure. I’ll go ahead and write the second letter of recommendation for you, anyway. Even though I originally said no, and your parents said no.”
I should probably point out this was the summer of 1993. I was finishing my freshman year of college, and thought I was prepared to go to Columbia.
For a quick recap of what the summer of 1993 looked like in Columbia, there were bombings and murders, every single day. Not to mention kidnappings. Also at the height of violence, kidnappings, explosions and heinous murder?
Pablo Escobar.
I wasn’t just naive, I was downright ignorant.
Our pastor, Steve Lawes, taught us something several weeks ago that really rattled me. He shared with us the passage in Mark 10. I urge you to read Mark 10 when you have a moment, but Steve talked specifically about, Mark 10:35-45. The Request of James and John.
I was talking to Terry about my “summer that wasn’t” in 1993, and how I so desperately wanted to go work in Columbia. But then I remembered Steve’s message. He said, “God always knows what He is doing. And sometimes we need to be reminded when God says no, He has a reason.”
So here was the message. “Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him. “Teacher,” they said, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.” “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.” “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said. “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?” - Mark 10:35-38 (NIV)
You see, Steve pointed out to us what James and John were asking of Jesus ... the Disciples believed Jesus would defeat the Romans and make everything right, when He is crowned King of Israel. So they wanted to be there in the battle against the Romans.
But when Jesus was crowned King of the Jews; it was with a crown of thorns. And on His actual right and left were the two other men being crucified. This is why Jesus said to them, “You don’t know what you are asking.” James and John wanted to be with Jesus when He was glorified. They didn’t know what they were asking.
Sometimes when God tells us no, it is for a reason beyond our sight. Beyond our comprehension. But He always knows what He is doing.
The summer of 1993, God was saving me from being right in the middle of harm’s way.
I am so glad God and my dad said, “No.”
I didn’t know what I was asking.