Thailand. Malawi. Romania. My three hardest months thus far, but Romania may just be number 1.
My three hardest months thus far, but Romania may just be number 1.
What do I mean by “hardest?”
Emotionally, spiritually, I was a wreck.
Crying, almost daily. Feelings of extreme sadness and hopelessness. Trouble sleeping- most nights I tossed and turned, unable to sleep more than a few hours at a time, two nights I didn’t sleep at all. Trouble eating. No motivation. Obsessive behavior. Heartbreak.
If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed I had slipped into depression again.
But, early in the month, the Lord showed me this thing, this thing that was overwhelming me, didn’t come from me. I was reacting to something that was coming from outside of me.
I have yet to experience a spiritual darkness like the one in Romania. Thailand was dark, Malaysia, Malawi… every country has had their own form of spiritual oppression but I have yet to be personally affected like I was in Romania.
At the end of my month, I felt completely crushed. There is no way to describe it except I felt like Romania itself had been chewing me up, like gum, wanting to spit me out, waiting and irritated by it’s inability to get rid of me. I have never felt a country wanting to dispel me as much as Romania has.
I wasn’t the only one- many on my team (and on other teams situated in other parts of Romania) struggled hard this month.
We worked mostly with people from the Romani gypsy culture…
The gypsy world, in general, seems to be severely spiritually oppressed. A people group, formed through hundreds of years of rejection and displacement, leading to abuse and spiritual slavery.
They have their own rules, their own currency, their own kings, their own languages, and their own variation of religions.
I would walk into a place, whether it was the ghettos we were ministering in or just walking down the street, and I would be overwhelmed by the cycles of abuse that cover the people here. Drug abuse, familial abuse, and spiritual abuse and manipulation.
All month, I had the strong desire to FIX IT. I saw needs everywhere, I desperately wanted to shift into a form that could fill those holes.
All month, I was confused; God said His burden would be light, why was I struggling so? He showed me I was trying to carry things I was never meant to hold.
Our host shed some light, just by sharing what he had learned over the years and years of working in these communities.
Let it go.
Love people, walk alongside them, and live life with them for the few hours a week you are with them, but when you walk away, walk away.
Let it go.
Let it go. It’s a choice. The ball’s in your court. You have to choose to let go.
This is so counter-intuitive to me. I’m here. God sent me here. I should be doing more. I should be standing in the gap, saving these people, helping them get to a different life.
Let it go.
This month, I was overwhelmed by how little I can actually do on my own.
This month, I was overwhelmed by how little, it seemed, God was choosing to do through me.
I went on the Race expecting stories to write home about. Expecting God to be doing huge, showy things through me. I’m in month 9; I expected to be a Holy Spirit Superstar by now.
I didn’t expect to be learning the same lessons I was learning at the beginning of the Race…
It’s all about Him. His timing, His rules, His plan. He’s using me, but not in the ways I expected. Not in the ways I want.
Part of the lie I have been believing comes in regards to you, dear supporters.
(Not from you! You all have been nothing but 100% supportive! But the enemy has a way of twisting good things into lies.)
I feel like I am not being “missionary” enough. You’ve been praying, you’ve supported me financially- I feel like I am letting you guys down.
I don’t feel like a “missionary” anymore. I remember back to my childhood when missionaries would come talk- long skirts, little/no makeup, constant smiles, and stories upon stories of God’s goodness.
I have stories, but they are tainted.
Tainted by my pride, my ignorance, and my faults.
I guess I could remove the dirt, clean up my stores until they roll off the tongue with ease… but I want to share it all, not just the shiny parts.
My problem, I have been told, is that I forget to make God the hero of the story. Every story, every day, should be focused on God- how He is moving, how He is receiving glory for whatever is happening.
I’m still learning. I’m still learning the balance between raw authenticity and being Christ-focused. Someday, through Christ’s power, those things will be the same.
Today, all I can say is that God is moving. He is reshaping the atmosphere wherever He takes me. He is reshaping me, molding me, carving me, refining me, into His heart.
It’s a messy process, believe me, but I’m closer than I was yesterday.
Praise God for His
