My first month in Africa was tough. Really tough. As I traveled to Ghana I had hopes for different or better. When you have 3 whole months in a place that pushes you way far outside of your comfort zone, the only thing you can cling onto is Jesus and hope that, no matter how tough, He will get you through it.
At the border of Cote d’Ivoire and Ghana, we arrived almost at closing time. Allowing 55 people out of one country and into another is no short process- causing the people working the border to stay late and probably get a little frustrated as they desired to go home to their families and beds (still unsure how a border can “close,” but I’ve stopped trying to explain Africa). I was the third to last in line of 55 people. I stepped up to the window with a smile and hope of a new opportunity to experience Africa. The man looked at me, began to interrogate me with a list of accusing questions, and proceeded to tell me that he won’t let me through the border.
Welcome to Ghana.
Needless to say, I made it through the border. However, I lost a little bit of the hope I once had for my second month in Africa.
Upon arriving, we we’re faced with an extremely full schedule, a lot of hurry-up-and-waiting, and massive amounts of sickness among the squad… including myself. For about a month I experienced nausea, dizziness, light-headedness, stomach issues (if you know what I mean), and EXTREME fatigue. Eventually I, along with about 20 others on the squad, faced the diagnosis of malaria, which has the recovery process very similar to someone suffering with mono. Not easy and not fun.
Really thriving over here.
What I have found is that the human condition is weak- weak to sickness, weak to exhaustion, and weak to complaining. Every day there are a chorus of people singing complaints of sickness, tiredness, and sick-and-tiredness of difficult living situations (including myself). The biggest responses to these complaints are, “Stay positive,” and “The Bible says to do all things without complaining,” and “Choose joy today.”
Band-Aids over bullet wounds.
The truth is, the things we are feeling and experiencing are real. We are sprinting through month 5 of an 11 month race (not advised in an actual run), and it’s hard on us physically, spiritually, and emotionally. The advice given above is both good and true, but they are all merely Band-Aids over bullet wounds. What we need in these day-in and day-out hardships are not reminders of positivity but reminders deep down in our soul that Jesus is with us, He is our hope, and only he can fill these voids and pains and sicknesses that we are feeling.
“I can’t simply will myself to, as Paul says, “do all things without grumbling or disputing” (Philippians 2:14). It’s not enough to merely want to be more content or to tell myself to cheer up. I need to cultivate the practice of meeting Christ in these small moments of grief, frustration, and anger, of encountering Christ’s death and resurrection- the big story of brokenness and redemption- in a small, gray, stir-crazy Tuesday morning.
Otherwise, I’ll spend my life imagining and hoping and preaching and teaching about how to share in the sufferings of Christ in persecution, momentous suffering, and death, while I spend my actual days in grumbling, discontentment, and low-grade despair.” –Tish Harrison Warren, Liturgy of Ordinary
I don’t want to put a Band-Aid over my suffering, rather, I want to allow Jesus to bring deep healing to the bullet wounds that I have in all areas of my life. The Race looks exciting and magical but it’s really just a whole lot of waking up and choosing Jesus and trusting He will bring joy and contentment out of that.
Thank you Jesus for these hard times because they bring me close to You!
You are magnificently loved,
Sara
