We were nearing the end of our 8-day mission trip to Guatemala, and we were driving to the mountain village for our last day of construction work. It had been an exciting trip for me, but I was ready to be done with it. I missed my wife and I was annoyed with a few members of the group. I'd had it, and it showed in my attitude.

We reached the village and went to work carrying cement blocks to the area where we would be laying them that day. A coworker showed me another way to stack the blocks that he considered better. I didn't say anything, but I groused around in my mind about the man and how picky he was about details. A few minutes later he told me to move a few blocks that weren't stacked his way, and I snapped at him that I wasn't the one who'd put them there. Another item to add to my list of reasons why I couldn't wait to get out of there.

A few minutes later our Guatemalan foreman-through an interpreter-laid out the work plan for the day, and he paired me with a Guatemalan worker named Leonardo. I gathered a few tools and some mortar and got in the trench where we were laying blocks, still mumbling to myself about how I couldn't wait for the day to be over, for the entire trip to be over, so that I could get on a plane and away from the ones I was angry with. I'd enjoyed most of my time on the trip, but I was ready to go home.

With that in mind I started to work on the wall, putting mortar down and setting cement blocks. I am not a bricklayer-I'd only tried it several times on this trip-so as I laid the blocks I'd motion to Leonardo for his approval to make sure I had set the blocks correctly. We were separated by language, but he'd come over from where he was working, make a few taps with his trowel or a hammer, and flash a huge smile of approval and nod his head as though I'd just done something amazing. That continued throughout the day, me and Leonardo laying blocks together and Leonardo often adjusting the blocks I'd set. He smiled throughout our work, and no matter how often I bothered him to check my work the smile never disappeared. All the while, though, I stayed focused on my work and barely interacted with other members of my team. Even when several men complimented me on the amount of work I'd accomplished I barely acknowledged them. And yet, I was intrigued by Leonardo's constant smile toward me.

About midafternoon we broke for a late lunch, and as the Guatemalan and American workers ate together, Leonardo gave his testimony of how he came to faith in Jesus. It was a great story of the way Jesus "captured" him, as he put it.

As he spoke I found myself unable to hold back tears, and I began to feel sad that my time with these Guatemalan men was about to end. I was the educated American there to minister to the uneducated, poor Guatemalans, or so I thought. I hadn't counted on being ministered to by them. I still missed my wife, and I was still annoyed with a few people, but Leonardo's grace toward me that day had begun to melt my cold heart. He'd shown kindness to a man with a bad attitude. And it was an example to me: perhaps I could show grace to the ones I was angry with and choose to focus on their good hearts and actions, rather than a sour focus on the things I didn't like. Like the teammate I thought was so picky about details, for example. As I reflected on him, I realized it was his attention to detail that had made so much of our trip go smoothly.

Almost every day we encounter difficult people and we're faced with choices. The fact is, we're not going to be friends with everyone we meet. Everyone we meet, though, is an opportunity to consider what we're doing in our own heart with that person, that encounter. I have to ask myself, "Am I more bothered about his (her) sin and what I consider to be character deficiencies, or my own? Do I understand the ways I am difficult for others?" Ultimately, it's an opportunity to extend and experience grace.

And when I remember Leonardo I am reminded of the power of grace, even for a man with a bad attitude.

To learn about our services or to schedule an appointment call 214.585.4859 or email us at info@cbcmckinney.com.