Thoughts From Halfway

In one of my more brilliant Biblical discoveries of late,
I’ve noticed that Jesus stays pretty busy throughout the four Gospels. He’s constantly teaching [and re-teaching]
His disciples parables and Truth, infuriating some Pharisees, alternatively
avoiding and then seeking out the massive crowds that flocked Him, and then in
His spare time, He did a few miracles. 
Specifically, He healed a lot of people and those stories are
particularly fascinating to me right now, because everyone approaches Him so
differently.  Some of the people beg for
help, whereas others are just caught in the crossfire of a religious debate and
seem to end up in the right place at the right time, and then there are those
who come to Jesus on behalf of others. 
Those are my favorite, because they always seem to yield the coolest
results.  The father with a
demon-possessed son in Mark 9 is one of my favorite Bible characters right now;
when Jesus tells him that all things are possible for those who believe, his
immediate response is, “I believe — help me with my unbelief!!”

 

I can’t remember the last time I identified so well with a
Bible character.  I mean, talk about
honesty: I believe — help me with my unbelief.  
I’m currently in Mbarara, Uganda, a week deep into the seventh month on
the Race.  Technically, I passed the
halfway point of this crazy-making adventure sometime in February, but I’m
really reflecting on a few things now, and I think that Mark 9 man sums me up
pretty well: I believe — help me with my unbelief.

 

I came on this Race expecting to be continually broken over
the depravity of man and the conditions of life around the world, of the rampant
injustice that has centuries-old strongholds in these places and the hopelessness
of the nations apart from Christ.  And
certainly, I have seen a part of the ugly underbelly of life… I see hungry kids
on the street nearly every day and I have to walk on, knowing that I can’t do
much for them.  I hug a lot of girls who
don’t have access to a good education or anyone who will protect them in
patriarchal, exploitative cultures.  Every
single month, I have lived with people who have gone through physical,
emotional, and social abuse due to their faith — people who have literally had
to fight for the things that I was born into and barely even notice anymore.

 

But to be really, really honest, I feel guarded against the
worst of it.  I feel like the Lord has
shielded me from the ugliest pieces and given me a decent perspective on things — I leave every country vividly aware of the need, but even more aware of God’s
lasting presence in that place, and so I’m not constantly haunted by what I’ve
seen. My experiences so far do not make me feel guilty for the way that I grew
up or the life that I know is waiting for me back in the States.  In fact, sometimes I feel guilty that I’m not guilty about it or constantly weeping
in a corner somewhere.  But I know full
well that my presence, though important and effective in its own way, is not
what these places and these people need — they need Jesus and He was here
before I got here and He’s going to be here forever and ever, amen.  I do my small part, try to be as present as
possible and be as much of Jesus as I can to people, and then I leave. 

 

But.

 

But I have been
broken.  I’m constantly being broken and
re-broken — just not over what I expected. 
I’m broken over my own condition. 
I’m broken through the lessons that seem small and inconsequential in
light of where I am, but lessons that feel big and significant in my
minute-to-minute life.  I’m broken over
things like comparison and jealousy,

over the idea of rest in the Lord versus striving for things
in my own strength ,

over being present in the moment versus dreaming,

and most of all over belief and unbelief. 

 

For me, this Race has been a constant, nearly non-stop cry
of, “I believe — help me with my unbelief!” 

 

I believe, God, that You are big enough to heal these
nations, to heal these people through my feeble hands.

 

But so often I pray and nothing happens before my eyes, so
help me with my unbelief. 

 

I believe, God, that You can
do exceedingly more than we ask or even imagine with our lives, just like you
say in Ephesians 3:20. 

But it doesn’t feel like You’re doing much on that front
right now, so help me with my unbelief. 

 

I believe, God, that You want to use me and my dreams and my
talents to impact these nations, but also my family and friends at home. 

But I don’t really know what that looks like or what I’m
supposed to do, so help me with my unbelief.        

 

I’ve said it before, but I need to say it again: this Race is
the best, hardest, most challenging thing I’ve ever done.  And not just because I’m away from home and
living in relatively primitive conditions and I never have alone time.  It’s
difficult, because I have witnessed firsthand the power of God.  I’ve seen miracles.  I’ve seen healings.  I’ve seen spiritually dead people raised to
life.  I’ve seen those who doubt find
faith in ways that is purely God — both abroad and at home.  I’ve experienced unbelievable joy and peace
in my time on the field.  But I’ve also
seen people still in pain after we pray. 
I’ve still struggled and fought against my own doubts that the Spirit is
alive and active in me.  It’s still hard
for me to believe that God is actually at work and that He has plans for every
person I meet — both the locals and in my community.  I guess that’s what I’m learning,
though.  Ministry isn’t a time slot or a
weekly commitment, it’s a way of life. 
And the way that God works is confusing sometimes and my faith will
never be perfect and that is fine… it’s just a matter of admitting that and
asking for help when I need it most.