When I signed up for the World Race I can admit my expectations were nothing short of extravagant. I was expecting to witness the dead come to life, the blind see, and maybe even a little bit of the Exorcist. I thought by the time the third month rolled around I would be so in tune with God that I would be hearing from Him daily, not having any doubt in my mind I’m where I need to be, and spiritually mature beyond my years. I thought by the time I got to Thailand I would already be over all of my struggles and just completely “enlightened”. HA! What a joke!
I’m on month three of my race. I have seen no miraculous healing, and thank God no exorcisms because I would probably cry and board the next flight home. I’m still having the same amount of struggles I was having before I left if not more and I can honestly say I’m more confused about religion and theology than ever before. Being in America doesn’t make it easy to be a Christian, but it definitely makes the prosperity gospel more believable. We usually don’t have to go the day without food or live in a room made out of mud with the rest of our family sleeping on cardboard. It’s easy to believe that God is providing prosperity when you have prosperity. But when you’re in a third world country, and witness good people struggling to survive. That’s when it’s hard to see God’s love. That’s when I’ve struggled with believing. When you pray for a innocent infant with an IV in her arm living in India in a filthy dirt hut and don’t see miraculous healing it’s hard to maintain your composure, let alone your faith.
This has been at the root of my struggles on the race. Trusting and believing that God not only loves me but loves these other people through me. It was two months ago and I’m still trying to process the things I saw in India. Anyone who has asked me about India has gotten the rude and bitter answer “I will never go back.” Until last night I had a serious problem with India because our ministry there was to pray for people. And God did I pray. We all did. For about 4-5 hours a day we prayed. No miracles happened. No miraculous healings took place. I was angry and felt forsaken in India. I hated being in India because I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.
That being said, last night one of my team mates asked us to watch a movie with him called Father Of Lights. Initially, I thought Oh great, another lame Christian documentary. I was not excited to say the least. After maybe three minutes in I was hooked. It’s about a man that goes to different countries and shadows people furthering God’s Kingdom. Of course one of the people he shadows is no where other than India. The last thing I want to watch is a documentary about a hopeless, desolate place that I felt abandoned in. As I watched with pouty crossed arms, my mind/heart was changed. They followed a man in India that audibly heard instructions for the day from God every morning at four AM. They followed him as he furthered God’s Kingdom. I watched as what could only be divine appointments were made and people that had no hope come to know God. And I was watching it unfold in India? Where was the Holy Spirit that was so present in this man when I was in India? Why wasn’t I seeing people be saved? Why weren’t my prayers for healing heard? Why did I feel abandoned in India when this man so clearly wasn’t?
Then it hit me. I wanted to go on a mission trip to save people myself. I wanted the cool stories. I wanted to be praised for my selfless acts. I. I. I. None of the things I was doing were to glorify God. It was to glorify myself. God has clearly not abandoned those people or me. God is moving hearts in India through people that are doing His work. I needed a month of pure abandonment so I could learn to fully rely on God’s ability to heal people, not my own. I thought it would take $15,500 (which I still haven’t raised yet if you wanna help me out with that) and eleven months of my life to make God happy with me for my many sins. All it took was an hour and a half of a movie to make me realize God is my daddy. He loves me because I am His child. He’s proud of me for going on this trip, but He would’ve been proud of me if I had stayed home. Just like a father is proud of his daughter no matter what. He had to let me fall on my butt for trying on my own to make me realize I need Him to hold my hand every step of the way. I am so elated right now with my Papa’s love that I know there is no way He would ever truly abandon me. I still don’t think I’ll ever go back to India. But now I know it’s more because the food doesn’t agree with me rather than because I feel God isn’t there.
