in two days, my team will hop on a plane back over to kenya without me. and it’s good, i know. or, at least i tell myself that because i know that both halves of this team are pursuing the visions that the Lord has given us. but somewhere in the middle, the vision for a collective us forked into two separate ones and that is why i am sitting on a purple couch in the basement of a mansion in colorado and not on a blue covered klm airplane seat en route to africa.
when we (the ruples) began toying with the idea of coming home*, we contacted the head honcho of aim, seth barnes. he replied with a very barnes-like statement: make sure you have a plan before you come home.
a plan.
a plan?
we didn’t really have a plan, so we prayed and the Lord ever so graciously gave us one. it was kind of outlandish and dreamy and exciting and grandiose. it was a promise.
part of the promise was to move to colorado. not my home. not his home. but a neutral ground, complete with mountains and snow and an endless supply of potential friends. (aka we don’t have any friends at the moment)
the plan was to go with the promise of pursuing dreams that have been stowed away for such a time as…well, for such a time as this, i guess.
but accompanying the promise, He gave me a warning: this is a time to get low and serve. this is a time to start sowing into the dreamy, outlandish promise that I’ve given you. because it’s going to take work and sacrifice. it’s going to get dirty and hard and, more often than not, you’re not going to want to do it.
and He reminded me again this morning by saying this,
“it’s time to be in the garden and sweat blood.”
right before Jesus was about to be kissed by betrayal and hauled away, He went into the garden to ask His Father to take this impending horror away. instead, God sent an angel to strengthen Him. Jesus kept praying, in agony, and His ‘sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground**.’
i get what He is saying to me. i feel it. i’m in a season of doing things i really don’t want to do. things that don’t give me life or bring alive my passions. and i’m asking Him, ‘hey. how about we renege on our previous agreement and You let us (the ruples) join our team on the plane back home* on wednesday?’ then i throw in a quick, ‘not my will but Yours’, just to do the spiritually right thing. instead, He sends me an angel to give me strength, usually in the form of my husband, who says ever so gently, ‘hey babe. have you studied for the gre
today yet?’
and in the end, it is Good.
battles that we have, as a team, fought for are finally being won. strongholds are being broken and i don’t take it lightly that these breakthroughs have happened as we (the ruples) stepped out of the kenya initiative. in fact, i take it as confirmation.
so, team kenya: go kill it for the Kingdom. continue to pour into those boys and girls who are so quickly becoming Men and Women. get that promise land and enjoy the milk and honey that comes with it. may the resurrection power that dwells within you all be passed on to everyone and everything, including our beloved
pajero. (if not, we won’t be offended if you sell it) may every miscommunication be cleared up promptly, may every child see you as an african and not scream at you, and may the seeds that have been sown this past year blossom ever so beautifully in front of you.
nakupenda sana.
much Love.
*i’m not entirely sure where home is anymore, but that’s okay.
**luke 22:39-46
