I left Africa feeling rather empty. Truthfully, Malawi left something to be desired as I didn’t feel I truly left an impact or built any kind of relationships or showed enough of God’s love. For a perfect description of our month in Malawi, read my teammate Shayne Smith’s latest blog post, it’s absolutely wonderful and describes how I felt perfectly. (She’s also still working towards her April first deadline if you would like to support her!) But I came into Latvia determined to have a refreshed perspective and to be grateful for any opportunities we were soon to receive from the Lord.
So far we’ve been able to do a lot of similar ministry to what I do at home, lots of investing in the lives of the local teenage girls and building relationships with them. We’re organizing lots of events and youth nights and visiting youth center’s and the crisis center, talking about serving God, lots of things like that. It’s really very fruitful work and feels so nice to be useful. It’s restful for us after Africa to have things like toilet seats and hot showers and mattresses and normal meals. I have an environment where I can go to a cool, dark, quiet place when I have migraines. It’s a wonderful, wonderful place, with beautiful people and beautiful culture and it’s beautiful to see God working here.
But then, when everything here seems perfect and all gets still, something creeps into my mind.. The money. God has provided for every deadline so far, every dollar I’ve needed I have received. “He never fails and He won’t start now”, right? And yet the fear is there, the fear of not raising almost $2,500 in less than 4 weeks. What if I have to leave? What if I wasn’t actually called to this and the funds not coming through will be God’s way of closing this door? What if I miss out on the miracles to come? What if I have to leave this squad of people I feel called to be with for this period of my life? What if I have to arrange the most embarrassing plane ride of my life home to Oklahoma while everyone else moves on to Lithuania? What if not enough people believe in me? Or the work we’re doing? What if?
The worry seeps in, the thoughts bombard my spirit. What can I possibly do from Latvia to raise support? Then I was listening to my music and this song by Ingrid Michaelson came on (she’s not a Christian or anything, but her stuff calms me down). It’s called Keep breathing. “All that I know is I’m breathing. All I can do is keep breathing.” It hit me then that in every hint of doubt, every whispered lie in my ear, that I am not trusting the Lord’s plan. Whether that is to be here or to leave, I trust that it is good. And all I can do is keep breathing. Keep loving. Keep serving. Keep soaking in His presence. Regardless of my circumstances.
This isn’t me begging for your money, though it probably sounds that way. This is me opening up about the struggle I’m currently in. If the only thing you can do to help is to pray that my funds come in, that is more than I could ever ask for from you and I appreciate those prayers dearly. I have other teammates and squad mates who are experiencing the same feelings as we struggle to make the $11,000 deadline on April 1st. But $11,000 is nothing to God, nor is our final $16,000+ deadline in July. He’s probably laughing at me for even thinking that a sizeable feat. He created the earth. He lead the slaves out of Egypt. He raised a valley of dead bones to a breathing army. He raised Jesus Christ from the dead and saved all of humanity who accepts Him though His endless grace and love and mercy.
Eleven thousand dollars? Sixteen thousand dollars? It’s probably unbelievably comical to Him and I smile at the thought of Him gently laughing at me, like a father gently laughs at his daughter thinking there is something scary in her closet, “Haha, oh sweet dear daughter of mine, you forget who I am. Come rest in my wings and keep breathing.”
Oh how silly my afflictions and troubles seem in the light of His love. I reread a popular Christian children’s book yesterday, you surely know the one, You Are Special by Max Lucado, and it made this seemingly insurmountable obstacle appear minuscule. Eli, the carpenter, is talking to his creation, a little puppet named Punchinello:
“…Why do I matter to you?’
Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly.
‘Because you’re mine. That’s why you matter to me.’”
“Because you’re mine, that’s why I will meet these deadlines for you.”, He said to me, “That’s why I’ll carry you in your weakness. That’s why I’ll continue to draw you back to Me. That’s why I think you’re beautiful when no one else does, when even you don’t believe it. That’s why I would live a life on earth and die on a cross for you. Because I want you with me. Because you are mine. And I am yours.”
