[Warning – this blog does not follow the suggested guidelines for blog writing. It's long. And it's filled with errors that likely cause English teachers to cringe.]
I cannot begin to pinpoint a time in my life when the thought of missions pushed to the forefront of my heart. I know when I was younger I loved reading stories of people that traveled and served the Lord. A dad in the military will fuel any kids travel bug, and my siblings and I all have one.
In high school, I learned about Mercy Ships and even went to the point of practicing two minute showers so that I could survive my commitment on board. I already had a desire to study nursing and figured it would be a great fit. But Mercy Ships requires two years of experience to serve medically. So logically, the next step was to go to college and work for two years. In the grand scheme of life, this would be no time at all.
I first read about the World Race when I was a sophomore in college. I googled mission trips and found the Adventures in Missions website. I thought the race sounded incredible and read a few blogs. It was fantastic in theory. But I never truly considered it beyond initial fascination because I was in college and had a game plan. I would graduate at four years and get my nursing experience. I had a plan. And the WR did not fit into it.
Well, my plan shifted. A heart shattering event led to me withdrawing from nursing school halfway through my 1st junior year. It was a major blow to my pride, another decision not marked by my planning, but evident of the Lord’s hand. I would graduate a semester late after a brief stint in summer school and I endured a torturous semester off from nursing school; it was so difficult to fill all of the newfound free time. It was a splendid problem to have.
With my plan shifted, and God working a new way in my life. A prideful me was breaking. And questions of why led to questions of what is next. And a semester off from nursing allowed an opening in my coursework to study French. No reason really, I had spent some time in Europe growing up and I was not even truly fond of the language. But I still signed up for it.
About that time, an instructor and now dear friend brought to my attention a trip she was taking in the summer. It was in the Republic of Congo. And it was a nursing trip. And it was something she thought I needed. Something to help me sort through everything and process the year and to help me figure out if overseas is something God is asking of me. She was holding a spot for me.
I had this desire to go overseas. Short term missions trips were always popping up, but with moving around in the summers, it was not ever really an option to take off on a trip. It never fit or seemed right. But now, the Congo seemed like an escape. A change of pace and also a way to get back on the horse with nursing. And they speak French in the Congo. It seemed fit and I prayed so much about it. And I talked to my parents.
But my mom said no right off the bat without [I felt] giving it a chance. So I went behind her back. [Sorry Mom] Dad was all for it and would help me shift my mom’s hesitation and sleep on the couch a couple of times. I bounced discussion off of my best friend, Nikki, who was going through similar feedback from her parents and we prayed for each other.
That summer Nikki and I said goodbye to each other as we both headed off on trips that would open up our hearts and mind to a mold breaking God and the life he has planned for us. Something He’s continued for both of us. I met my team in Brazzaville and traveled together the rest of the way to our home for six weeks, Impfondo, Congo.
God did so much in those six weeks. So much. I was ready to come home. But knew I was not ready at the same time. It would have been easier to pretend it never happened and in many ways that is what I did. I had seen so much and God had revealed so many facets of His heart to me. I had learned so much about my own heart. I had so much to process about the trip, but I put it off.
I moved into my parents’ new home in PA and shared some stories but kept much of what God had opened hidden from even myself. “It had been a great trip”, I told myself, “and it was just that, a trip”. I returned to school, started back in the nursing coursework, started dating a great guy and pushed aside the voice that I had allowed to grow quiet about being overseas.
Around Thanksgiving, I began reading blogs again on the WR website. A great friend of mine was preparing to leave and it began to draw fascination again. A sermon featuring charity water and work with Mercy Ships was a turning point. I wanted to go overseas. Dreams started taking me back to Africa. A couple of weeks later, my relationship was over and my interest in missions was part of the reason. By mid March, I was avidly pouring through blogs and researching more short term trips. I had a new plan with graduating the following December and a focus on debt. But I was no longer afraid of listening to God’s voice. Experience has taught me to trust it. And faith tells me that it is scary but good.
By May, during the week of my friend, Evan Kinney’s training camp, I learned from Papa that I was going on the world race. I just did not know when. But I was going. I told my mom, “I’m telling you now, so that you can hopefully prepare for it when the time comes”. And I prayed. And prayed.
And this past year, I knew I was supposed to stay put. God has allowed me to grow by loving on my youth group, graduating and working to pay off debt. I was here. And sometimes I struggled with this. Restless. And many times asking for forgiveness for being unsatisfied. And distracted from the now. But I see the beauty of the past year. I have shared heartache with friends, seen God spread open, stretching from the box I have placed Him, and had so many beautiful conversations about faith with my sisters and family. I have gone through periods of desert. I have stood with my heart aching for the world God has given me right here, yet filled with the giddiest of joys for all that I have seen Him do here. I have cried more than ever, with pain and sadness, joy and gladness.
And this summer, God spoke again about the world race. I had gone back to planning. September 2013 seemed logical to me. My debt would mostly be paid off. And I would have longer work experience. I was set. Then He spoke. “Are you truly ready to follow? Or are you trying to follow with your own terms? No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God”. Obedience or convenience. Trust and obey or plan and go with some of my own terms. And friends spoke life into me in a Barnes & Noble café. And I breathed deeply a few days later, broken and wanting God’s plan. Not mine. July 2013.
In August, a test of faith slipped in with a phone call. And secret concerns for my dad’s health tiptoed around the family. Was the cancer back? Dad wants treatment, but what does the doctor say? And I was crushed. Because I know I will miss moments while I am gone. And I will miss events. Joyful occasions and the heart shattering events that can strike a heart with dangerous blows. “Let the dead bury their own dead. But as for you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”
In August, God used numbers on a lab test to pull from the mire of my heart, fear and distrust. A long run to my spot on the trails, with tears escaping allowed the release. Declarations began to flow in a whisper and led to a boisterous exclamation. I am giving it to You, Papa because I trust you and I know you make everything beautiful in time.
It is impossible for me to be everywhere. But God is everywhere. I am going to miss things when I leave. And life changes are going to happen. But I believe God has more for me to see in the nations this next year. More to refine me. More to wind to carry the chaff from my life. And more joy to experience and beauty to find in this part of His journey for me. And as much as some days I am not excited for this blessing… I cannot imagine all that I will miss by not trusting God that this is next.
