Sometimes it all feels like a dream. Was I really walking through the mountains of Madagascar to tell the villages about Jesus? Did I really baptize a dear friend in the Indian Ocean? Did I really teach English at a high school in Thailand? Did I really worship Jesus on top of a volcano, in Nicaragua?
It all blows my mind. I do not believe the adventure is over. I love missions and ever since I was a little girl I have had a heart to help others and to travel all over the world and tell people about Jesus. The Lord has answered me of my wildest dreams.
When I came home officially in May from Sri Lanka, I was so excited to see my family. I felt like I successfully completed the task He had for me. Granted, I finished with my fair share of mistakes. I will be the first person to admit that. But oh, how His grace covered me, sustained me, and carried me. I am such a blessed woman.
Pursuing Jesus on the World Race while on my 11 month mission trip and then squad leading for 5 months was the best decision I made. He opened doors of opportunity me all over the world. From preaching in a church of Madagascar to being able to hold a big snake on my shoulder. Big and little things. And none of it was for my glory, it was simply fulfilling a destiny the Lord made me for. It was walking in the fullness that He created me to walk in. It was the hardest and best 17 months.
And now…I am living in America. The land of “If you have a need, we can fill it.”
I don’t mind being general when I talk about villages in Madagascar, or talking about preaching on a Sunday in church, or about the woman we prayed for and was healed, or about the time I hiked a volcano for fun. But I don’t want to talk about the man run over by an ox cart that we prayed for healing and nothing happened, I don’t want to talk about the times I cried myself to sleep because it was so ridiculously hot, or about the grandma left to take care of five children because the mom and dad ran away.
It is really difficult for me to talk about what I witnessed and experienced, because it is hard to name my emotions, or I have to relive the feeling of being helpless, and because I do not want anyone to feel guilt for their blessings.
I don’t want to share about the poverty or the woman forced into prostitution because there was no other way, I don’t want to share about the man who manifested a demon when I prayed for him and whose body would convulse at every mention of the name of Jesus, it is really difficult to talk about the nights of throwing up outside because the toilet was broken and you couldn’t make it to the outhouse and having to cover the throw up out of fear of the children who are starving would to eat it.
It is impossible to talk about the children 2-3 years old you would pass by on the street wearing nothing but rags, it is hard to talk about the young men and young woman I met who do not know their mother or father because their mother was a prostitute and rejected her child at birth, it is even hard seeing the stray dogs who are malnourished and dying but just want to be loved like a normal pet. I don’t want to talk about the little girl who was four years old with lice in her hair, dirt smeared across her face, a dress that reeked of street life and asking for me to buy her a bottle of water because she was thirsty. Those things make people squirm in their seats and their insides feel wrecked with guilt.
But these are the things eating me up on the inside. The World Race is really hard. But it may be even harder coming home and having to face the truth-that I am a selfish human being. It is way to easy to navel gaze-to keep my eyes on my own greed, the piles of clothes to be given away that I collected before the race, having a pantry full of food, having all of my needs filled when I have had to do without, and seeing others do without even more than myself.
How can I look at myself in the mirror and criticize my appearance or weight when women who are malnourished beg on the side of the street, or follow you as you walk on a dirt road, asking for money so they can buy alcohol to numb their pain, or to buy food for their starving family?
I met a woman and her son in El Salvador, and she would wander the streets and beg for food. Every time I saw her, I hugged her and her son. She was always drunk and always close to tears. She used the money to buy alcohol obviously. But what friends told us was that she also had a husband waiting at home who would beat her if she didn’t bring enough money home.
In the midst of the pain, and seeing others hurting, all you have are the clothes in your backpack, and your Bible and journal. It is finding Jesus in the midst of seeing others hurt and learning to trust Him with the process.
Being at home has been so wonderful. I am surrounded by love and blessings. But it is really hard to be grateful for your blessings when you remember the poverty you see everywhere else in the world. It makes me sad, and depressed.
I am so blessed with a family who prays with me and loves me through it all. It is a good thing I have decided not to drink while at home (I wouldn’t have been able to drink anyway because of me trying to get rid of the worms in my belly haha) because it would be a sweet relief to not have to relive these things. But it would simply be avoidance of things that can’t be helped.
Something a friend said to me that really helped me, was reminding me of Paul when He said in Philippians how he has learned how to be content with a little, and also being content with a lot. All because of Jesus. So I have learned how to be content with having little, and now I am learning to be content with all my blessings, and not looking to anything else but on Him.
If I allow myself to be overcome with guilt over the poverty and sickness of the world, then that is not helping anyone. Sickness, poverty…these things are not of the Lord. It is bringing healing to the body and joy to the inner man through knowing Jesus. After everything I have seen I know the enemy would want me to retreat and sink into an abyss of depression. But the Spirit of the Lord lives within me, and I want others to know about the good work He has done, and how others can invest and even go to other nations themselves if that is their calling.
I am so grateful for my chance to be a missionary. And I know my journey is not over yet. How can I come home and ignore everyone I have met and everything I have seen? Thank you to everyone who has prayed for me and reached out to me. I will be going to El Salvador for my last country so please partner with me by donating my last $1,500 to get there. Blessings to all of you.
