I plopped down on the dirty floor and leaned my head back against the wall, trying to catch my breath in the still, hot air. My eyes brimmed with tears. Sweat dripped down my back.
“What am I doing here?” I choked. The tears fell. I was at the end of myself.
Weeks prior, I had moved to Malaysia with 6 practical strangers and been given the privilege of team leader again. I had no idea what I was doing. The team was in all different places. Some were excited and ready to spend our free time digging deep into the Word, some would rather be anywhere but with the rest of us. Some were anxious to grow and others seemed apathetic toward any and everything. I was frustrated.
Why couldn’t we all be on the same page?
Ministry was slow to the point of almost not existing. Sleep was hard to attain on our stiff air mattresses. We spent our abundance of free time chasing after air conditioning. Few of us were connecting or even attempting to. We were simply living together, coexisting.
I tried to get us all talking so we’d actually begin to know one another. I tried to delegate responsibilities to my teammates and empower them to step up. I tried writing down the team norms we’d come up with and hanging them on the wall as a reminder. I tried, I tried, I tried. But few times, if any, did I ever succeed.
I finally decided we needed a change of scenery so I booked a hotel in the city and we packed up for Christmas weekend. It was a break from our somewhat difficult living situation, but we couldn’t escape the reality that none of us wanted to be where we were.
On our way back, as I sat waiting for the bus with a teammate, we had a conversation. I mentioned something about a few of the guys on the team not being my biggest fans. She made a face; the kind that agreed with me but didn’t want to. I reassured her that it was okay, that I already knew. As she did her best to sugarcoat it, she said, “It’s not that they don’t like you as a team leader—”
“It’s that they don’t like me as a person… isn’t it?” I finished for her.
“Well… they just don’t necessarily like your personality.”
I smiled through the pain, surprised at how much it hurt to hear my fears confirmed. I’d spent the past weeks, fighting to make the team what I knew it could be and what I received in return was rejection.
That evening, as I sat on the floor at the end of myself, I wrestled with wanting to give up. I cried out to the Lord for strength and truth in the midst of lies from the enemy that only whispered more discouragement.
He told me I’m intense; the Lord said, “You are passionate.”
He told me I’m overbearing; the Lord said, “You care deeply.”
He told me what I’d been hearing for the past month, that I’m just plain “gung-ho” about everything, in the worst way possible.
And the Lord said, “I gave you that joy.”
I told him I didn’t want to stay. I told him I didn’t want to keep fighting for people who don’t even like me. I told him to let me go home, where I could be around the people who loved and accepted me and walk away from those who didn’t.
But he asked me to stay.
He asked me to fight.
He told me to wait.
After days of waiting and deciding whether or not I wanted to be obedient to what was asked of me, I made a commitment.
I committed to the tough stuff, to sticking it out when I wanted absolutely nothing else but to walk away.
I committed to my teammates, to not giving up on them but letting them decide for themselves what they wanted rather than dragging them to the Promised Land with me.
I committed to the Lord, to letting him lead the team. To simply being the stand in, the one who listens and follows, the one who sees where the Lord wants us to go and encourages us along. The one who steps back and allows the Lord to change my teammates’ hearts instead of attempting it myself.
He’s always been faithful. After surrendering the team to him, hearts began changing. I couldn’t make anyone see all the possibilities we had as a team or individually. I couldn’t make anyone want it. I simply had to wait and pray with confidence that my God would come through and help them see it for themselves.
The team isn’t perfect and I certainly am not. They’ll be the first ones to attest to that. But whether we like it or not, this is where we are. It’s taken time and prayer but we’ve chosen to give thanks for where the Lord has us and whom he has us with. It was not by accident.
Leadership is hard. It doesn’t always entail being well liked or listened to. Oftentimes you won’t feel respected or appreciated. But of all the trying circumstances in my life, this one has been the most stretching, as well as the most rewarding. I may have moments where all I want to do is cry or occasionally strangle someone, but I also have those sweet moments where a breakthrough is had and I have to run out into the stairway to jump around and praise the Lord.
Those are the “worth it” moments.
What I’ve learned about the sometimes-scary role of being a leader is that it is not a job; it’s a calling. Like any calling, I could say no to it. But unlike any job, something better won’t come along.
This is where God wants me. And though difficult and so often exposing of all my ugly parts, there is no better place than right where God has asked me to be.
Right here in this place of sweet surrender.
“I can’t remember a trial or a pain
He did not recycle to bring me gain
I can’t remember one single regret
In serving God only, and trusting His hand”
