"I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire.
He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.
He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord.
Oh, the joys of those who trust the Lord, who have no confidence in the proud
or in those who worship idols."
Psalm 40:1-4
These words were spoken over me today. In the midst of packing up our belongings to travel yet again through native Africa, our host Daniel, left me with these verses. Ironic, that I feel like the last few days and weeks in Africa, I have been 'waiting' on the Lord. I have been waiting for something, something that I can't really even define. Waiting to feel compassion. Waiting to see miracles. Waiting for change. Waiting to 'like it here'. And in the midst of the waiting, I have felt my heart pouting to God, asking why I have not fallen in love with this country, with these people. Why I have felt distanced from them, like we are looking at each other through glass windows, my hands on the pane, just wanting to touch the real thing.
Psalm 40 was accurate. Daniel hit on something, and I knew God was trying to get my attention. Just the other day, I had an incredible experience. Our Tanzanian pastor had heard about a convention that was coming through Kimnyaki, our village. The convention would host several American pastors. I arrived carrying the weight of the last few weeks – the weight of 'waiting' – and this particular speaker named Royce stood up and took the microphone. He began to talk about how the Holy Spirit had been speaking to him during the previous song. In a crowd of over 300 people, he said there is a woman in a green shirt and black-rimmed glasses that God needs to speak to. I looked down at my green shirt, and touched the glasses I had worn that day. It was me.
"This is the word for you, young lady," he said, boldly. "You have been waiting. Job 7:1 says, "is not all human life a struggle?" There are diversions coming at you from the right and the left, and you have been fighting internally, but know that God is saying, 'now is the appointed time.' Psalm 46:10 says, "Be still, and know that I am God! I will be honored by every nation. I will be honored throughout the world." Let Him love you. Now is the appointed time. Trust Him. Proverbs 3:5-6 says, "trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take."
In front of hundreds of people, this man whom I had never met spoke the words I needed to hear. And in that moment, I thought to myself, "this is the God who sees me." I felt like God came into that room and exposed my hidden insecurity: Trust. Yes, this is about waiting on God, but more importantly, it is about trusting Him. Do I trust that God is all-powerful? Do I believe He can do miracles? I am face-to-face with two worlds colliding; my rational, organized, clean-cut view of God – and this supernatural, undomesticated view of Him. He is fighting with all the doubt in me, and I am trying to get out of His way.
So then, Psalm 40 is spoken over me… Waiting. The Lord hearing me. Lifting me up; setting my feet on solid ground and steadying me. Lord knows, there are times when we all need to be steadied. But then, it says, "He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God." I have been the worship leader for our squad, and the experiences leading the group in worship have been incredible. Yet, since arriving in Africa, the usual melodies have not been on my lips. Joy has gone missing, and, similar to faith, it's like I have been waiting for it to arrive – depending on it's arrival – like a sailor craving land. Wanting it, but not really knowing how to get it.
"Many will see what He has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord."
The crazy part is that I have had a front-row seat to some incredible stuff. The other day, I got to pray over a sick girl and see her get healed. I have been welcomed into people's homes and seen over twenty give their lives to Christ through our home visits. I watched my friend Karen's foot get healed through prayer. I got to go to the home of a witchdoctor and see her father give his life to God and her little daughter come to church for the first time. And in all of these things, I am asking God why I am not more excited – why this doesn't move my heart the way I would expect. "Many will see what He has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord." Trust. This simple word breaks through the surface stuff and digs into the core of Christian faith. Do I really believe what I say I believe?
Today, our team transferred to another location within Tanzania, and the environment has changed. I want my spirit to change, too. To not be so unsettled, to not be (I hate to admit it) longing for home. Instead, I want to be "amazed," like it says in Psalm 40:4. To see the miracles that I've been missing, because my eyes have been closed, or just looking in the wrong direction. I am still waiting. Thankful for grace, and grateful that I have the opportunity to find it everyday. Thankful that I am seen in the midst of the questions, and that life doesn't have to make sense in order to be real. Sometimes, it's the things that don't make sense that make life livable. Things like miracles – things that can't be explained – things that have to be believed. As I walk this out, I must remember that those things are always worth waiting for.
