Woke up last night to a rooster crowing at 3-something in the morning. After cursing Mother Nature and saying things like “T.I.A.” (AKA “This is Africa”), I sat up and tried not to grumble. When sleep doesn’t come easy, it becomes easy for me to forget my blessings. When things aren’t over spiritualized and God isn’t in the forefront of my mind, I often downplay what I am doing for the Kingdom. Being a missionary is a very rewarding job, but it is also one of the hardest. Sometimes I forget that I should always be thankful in all circumstances.
I remember sometime earlier in the Race, one of my fellow squad mates said one of the most haunting statements about being thankful: “What if God took away everything that you did not give Him thanks for the previous night?” While I know that God would not do that, it struck me pretty hard.
What the heck do I have to be complaining for? I am currently working for God and changing lives in some of the shadiest parts of the world. I am being used to change minds about Jesus, and changing minds from what I have been told, is the beginning of revolutions. I am living in a Christ-centered community who loves me where I currently am and loves me too much to have me stay that way.
I am sleeping in a bed this month and have developed a wonderful relationship with our host family and the cook (who happens to be the sweetest example of servant hood that I have ever seen.)
I have walked all around Kenya, going door to door, asking people how I can pray for them, not in the name of my denomination nor in the name of my church affiliation, but because I know that we are family before the cross and both need the love of God.
I have enjoyed wonderful foods like chipati, socumawiki, and have learned to appreciate any kind of meat that has been prepared, regardless of what part of the animal it comes from.
I (at the risk of sounding like a nut) have experienced the Holy Spirit so heavily that I have been literally knocked to the ground. I have seen healings before my eyes and the wonder on people’s faces when they see themselves being healed. I have known the disappointment of praying for someone and having them not be healed, and in doing so I am learning the more mysterious parts of my faith.
I have found deep healing from my wounds of the past and have learned not to go back to them due to familiarity, but to reach for love and understanding instead of bitterness.
In short, I have learned in Kenya what it means to trust God and that He is who He says He is.
