It’s a strange morning.
I’m next door to the hotel we’ve been living in here in Da nang, Vietnam, sitting at a café that I’ve hung out at every day since our arrival here two weeks ago. I’m eating eggs with soy sauce and bread, which is strange since I would have told you I absolutely hate eggs had you asked me 10 months ago. I haven’t really eaten straight-up eggs since I was twelve, (when I threw up in the locker room before first period gym class after eating them for breakfast) but here I am, ordering them every day and loving them.
The coffee in front of me has more condensed milk than it does coffee, and the strange smooth jazz music that normally plays is replaced by a slower version of It’s My Life by Bon Jovi. I didn’t realize a slow version existed. I like the original more. The lyrics are still good, regardless – "I just want to live while I'm alive." Living to the fullest? Amen to that.
Like I said – strange morning. Everything reminds me of something in this moment. The eggs, the coffee, even Bon Jovi. During my senior year of high school my mother and I saw him in concert, but this sounds nothing like that. That was so loud my ears hurt, and I could feel the guitar and the bass in my chest vibrating all night long. This is mixed with Vietnamese conversations that I don't understand and the whirring of air-conditioning.
These are my last few hours in Da Nang. It’s been a few weeks of a hodge-podge kind of ministry, and I can’t truly put my finger on what I’ve learned here. Nam has treated me well though, I know that much. I have had good conversations here – both with locals and backpackers – and good times. I have seen sunrises and sunset. I have seen the countryside by way of bus and motorbike. I have had good food and good drinks in good company.
taken during a motorbike adventure
Marissa & I in Hoi An
I mean, my heart is here, strangely connected to a place that I didn’t expect to love but find myself not wanting to leave. I can’t tell you why I would want to stay, but despite my insane desire to go back to Ho Chi Minh, a part of me dreads it.
Maybe I’m becoming nostalgic and attached because I know that I’m leaving the Race soon. I have less than five weeks until I’m back in America, stepping foot onto Californian soil.
There is something special here, something that I haven’t seen before, something distinct from the other parts of Asia I’ve experienced. It feels like Jesus has more to do, more to say to these people, more to show them.
I am all too aware of the fact that I have been the smallest of parts in this story. That my few weeks have been used in ways for God’s glory, but it was nothing more than a piece of the puzzle.
It’s humbling, really. I was given a tiny taste of what He’s doing here and I can sense the great things that are going on behind closed doors. Something’s stirring and I desperately long to see what will happen when people come after this moment. This was my part, though, and I'm learning that it's a wonderful part to play.
Sometimes, it's so hard for me to see the forest; I stare at the trees, wondering what I'm missing. But here, ever so slowly, I'm able to take steps backwards and see the expanse of green before me. I crane my neck, unable to see the end of the woods.
This morning, I told someone that I was eager to leave this place, but I think I was just morning groggy. I am excited to return to Ho Chi Minh, see my squad, and fly to Malaysia, but it doesn't diminish my appreciation of this city. I have a feeling that Jesus is going to do a lot here, and I'm looking forward to hearing the stories and getting the news that this city is overwhelmed by the love of the Lord.
city bridge at night
That's the prayer, the goal, the desire. I certainly did not expect to miss this place, but I think I shall, because I know that Jesus' heart is so desperately for these people. I have walked around with a deep desire to see Jesus move, and am thankful to be a part of it, no matter how small.
I didn't think I would say this but – Dang it, I love Da Nang.
