Last year, I joined four other young women of God to take part in STEP, a discipleship program for young adults in the BIC church who want to look into missions or ministry as a life calling. We spent two months of training in Harrisburg (Pa.) and then lived in Honduras for five and a half months.

I did not know what to expect when I signed up for the STEP program. This feeling of uncertainty stayed with me as I raised my funds, bought my plane ticket, and even as our program directors drove us to their home in Tegucigalpa, the capital city of Honduras. As we wound through narrow streets crammed with other vehicles, I saw people driving through red lights and pick-up trucks loaded with more than 16 people in the back. Honduras was different from the United States.

In fact, it seemed to me at first that a regard for coffee represented the only commonality existing between the people in Honduras and in the U.S.: both drank it in the morning before work; both sipped it at cafés as they chatted with their friends or used their laptops in the afternoons; and just as both began their day with coffee, so both ended it following the evening meal. I quickly realized that I could get a taste of my home in any one of the coffee shops that were scattered throughout Tegucigalpa, but I had no idea how to respond to the rest of the culture that seemed so alien to me.

When my team and I arrived at church that first Sunday, we realized that we were going to need to learn more than how to speak Spanish in order to feel comfortable in Honduras. Just before we stepped inside the church doors, I was greeted by an older woman with a hug and a kiss on the right cheek. Right behind her was a younger woman who greeted me with another hug and kiss. Following her was an older man who did the same. Then, it seemed that I was rushed by the entire congregation, first with the hug, then the kiss on the right cheek. I looked to my team members. They were similarly enveloped by the crowd. There was no way out, so we slowly made our way through the veritable flood of affection. That first Sunday, I remember asking the Lord, “What on earth do really I have in common with these people? How will we relate? How will I ever survive these next months?”

When the church service was over, our directors brought us to the homes of our host families. I couldn’t communicate much more than the basics to them, having had only one year of high school Spanish under my belt. For the first three months of my time in the home of my host parents and their two young children, I felt lonely and unwelcome. I thought that my host mom saw me as a burden. I didn’t know how she ran her household, and when I tried to help with a task, I would do it wrong and end up slowing her down. I was daunted, overwhelmed, and alone. Try as I might, I felt that I could not find her approval.

I finally shared my burden with our directors. After seeing their anxiety at my unhappiness, I feared that they might talk with my host mom and make the situation worse. I began to pray with greater fervor. That was when God revealed to me the role I played in my bondage: I sought approval in the wrong place. Christ had already paid the price for my acceptance and redemption, so I could live in freedom. Through repentance, God strengthened my heart. The change in me was almost immediate. If He was pleased with me, then I could rest and truly be the fragrance of Christ to others.

By February I realized something new. My host mom did like me after all. For Valentine’s Day (in Honduras it is called the “Day of Love and Friendship”), she gave me earrings made to match a pair of her own. We had become friends. I was not an inconvenience to her. I cannot be sure that I ever was, but I knew that God had moved in her heart as well. I felt in my spirit that I was not the only one who had gone to God when the going was difficult.

As I grew to know the believers of Colonia Kennedy Brethren in Christ, I noticed how much some of them reminded me of certain members of my home church. The reason for this was quite simple: there is one God, one Spirit, one Son. I came to realize that this same God abides in His people all over the world. Despite my terrible longing for home and feelings of rejection in January, I was finally able to find my resting place in Him, no matter my circumstances.

I know that it was He who sustained me through my difficulties. When the temptation to believe myself unworthy, unchosen, and uncalled was great, I found Him whispering truths about Himself. In the midst of my fears, He taught me about His own character and about where His priorities lay. He desired “mercy, not sacrifice” (Hosea 6:6), and He reassured me that my gifts and call were irrevocable (Romans 11:29).

Little by little, and in every circumstance, the Lord reveals to us another facet of His character. And His character is the unchanging truth that is changing the world. Who He is is exactly what we need, fit exactly to fill our emptiness and purify our faith. The question, “What do I have in common with my brothers and sisters around the world?” is better asked, “How are we both experiencing this good news?” How do we take our coffee?

We must know that we have a kinship with all partakers of the hope of Jesus. I prefer my coffee freshly ground, black, and piping hot. My host mom likes hers with a lot of milk and a bit of sweet bread. The Colonia Kennedy church prefers to worship the Lord with their speakers turned all the way up and the aisles reserved for jumping. My home church prefers to worship the Lord with an arranged set of songs and the aisles reserved for walking. But one day we will share at the same great banquet table (do you think there will be coffee?), and until then, if God is the most important thing to both of us, then we have everything in common.