Apparently, I can only write blogs when I feel “emotional.”
I have no idea how to write a blog apart from how I’m feeling. I just don’t get
inspired until I’m upset or overjoyed, and it seems to be more of the former
this year.
We’ve had an amazing month of ministry, really. With an
American contact, how could you not? They just get you. They understand the jokes without explanations. They can
both take and dish out sarcasm. You don’t have to slow down your speech or use
different words. They miss Starbucks too.
And Orphans. How I love orphans. I think Jesus did too, as I
feel like he both loved Children, whom seem to be despised here, and the
outcasts, the forgotten. I love that about Orphans, how they love you just
because you cared to step foot on their property.
And evangelism. Now, going door to door isn’t something I
particularly enjoy, but how can a “Christian” not enjoy the fact that someone they have presented the Gospel to actually comes to know Christ right then
and there? That is a part of the great commission we NEVER see in the States.
So what the #%%$ is my problem?
We had a week of evangelism and then crusades last week.
This week, we debriefed it. I told my team I was glad that it was over. One of
my teammates responded, “I feel like that’s what you say about everything. Do
you actually look forward to anything?”
The lame response I could come up with was, “Yes. I look
forward to writing my (fiction) book.” I think I actually added afterward, “How
lame is that?” Though I’ve had someone tell me, “Even if that’s the ONLY thing
that comes out of this year, it doesn’t seem like it would be such a bad
thing.”
Shouldn’t I want to be more compassionate? I’m teaching
orphans art, what else could I want? I’m spreading the love of Jesus. Isn’t
that what I’m supposed to want more than anything?
I just feel so blah and “meh” about everything. I can’t get
a grip on what is going on. The stagnancy of my life at this moment is
astounding. The World Race has lost its glamor. In month (or country) five, the
charm of this so called “epic” life has worn off. I’m tired of bucket showers
and bugs. I feel like I’ve only known the same six people all of my life. It
feels like I’m MARRIED to them, I see them so much. Time has both seemed to come
to a complete stop and fast forward at the exact same moment. I’m tired of only
reading about my “old” friends on their facebook status, and having to wait for
thirty minutes to catch a glimpse of one of their pictures, wishing I didn’t
have to miss out on so much of their life, if that’s even if I get a shot at
the shoddy internet.
And somehow, in a room full of people, I can STILL feel so
alone.
I’m such a whiner. It’s quite ridiculous.
I go outside to watch the sunrise every morning, and see if
God is going to meet me there. It’s always gorgeous. That’s the only part of
God that can find at the moment. It’s quite stifling. What’s really scary, is
at this point, I feel like I have nothing to come back to, or worse, nothing to
come back with. Can I really go
through a whole year of this, and have nothing to show besides a stupid fiction book and a few new friends that
I may never actually get to see again?
Because this is what I feel like I’m headed toward. I wanted to change the
world. I don’t know if I can even effect my own. If that’s even the point.
I know someone told me (in AIM speak, Prophesied) before I
left for the year, that this trip had NOTHING to do about the ministry, rather,
it had to do with my Heart. The work God
would be doing had to do with my heart. Great. Well, then why does it feel like
my heart is dead? Like if you were to rip open my chest and crack open my
ribcage, you’d find a grey, lifeless muscle, without a pulse.
Ironic, seeing as how that’s our team name, PULSE. What a joke.
At least that’s what my head (and maybe Satan) is telling me.
Oh dear God, He has said in His word, that He’d take out my
heart of stone and replace it with a heart of Flesh.
That is what I want, but only if it beats for Him. I’m tired
of chasing lovers that won’t satisfy. I’m tired of trying to sustain this love
by myself. I want to know where I belong, I want to know that I’m truly Loved,
like how the apostle John knew he was
the beloved disciple. I used to think he was an arrogant jerk. Now, I realize,
he was CERTAIN of Christ’s love for him.
That’s what I want. To be certain. To be assured. I want to
know that when I wake up in the morning, and go out to see the glorious
sunrise, that God actually DOES meet me there. I want to see those pillars of fire
and smoke. I want to know that the Holy Spirit actually doesn’t mind living inside me, because there are
times, even I don’t want to live
inside me. I really want to be sure that He’ll look at me one day and actually say “Well done, Kige. I’m so
glad you’re finally here.” And maybe, in that moment, I’ll actually believe all
His promises, because they will have finally come true.
