The month of Cambodia was riddled with moments of complete divine intervention. As we sought after ministries to connect with, we would somehow end up having a conversation with a random person at a coffee shop or hospital who turned out to be a missionary and would love for us to come hear more about the ministry. I continually had the thought, Why do we ever try to do anything on our own strength? It rarely works. And even when it does, it could have been so much better had we first sought the Father’s heart.
As I reflected upon the ministry, I began to reflect upon my own heart. Why was I so restless in Cambodia? Because things weren’t going my way? What did Paul do? He surely knew disappointment. He understood persevering through trials. So what did he do?
He prayed a profound, yet simple prayer:
“In all our troubles, my joy knows no bounds.” (2 Corinthians 7:4)
And I wanted this. This boundless joy. This ability to choose joy in the midst of trouble and pain. In fact, I wanted a joy that knows no bounds to overflow my heart the most as I walk in sorrow or struggle.
So I want to welcome the sorrow, the pain, the struggle, the brokenness. Why?
Because:
“See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: What earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what LONGING, what concern, what readiness to see justice done.” (2 Corinthians 7:11)
I welcome the godly sorrow because I want these holy things to characterize my heart.
Throughout the general whole of Cambodia, I wrestled with this. How do I get here?
And then a verse that a dear friend of mine shared with me before the race once again came to mind.
“If you have raced with men on foot, and they have worn you out, how can you compete with horses?” (Jeremiah 12:5)
When I got to Cambodia, I had this idea of what would be accomplished. It didn’t happen. What I didn’t realize was that I wasn’t ready for the “big things” yet. I was trying to do the big things before I had learned to conquer the small ones. Over and over, I have raced man and he has worn me out. Yet I still insisted on competing with horses. And I realized this: The training matters. Each thing we do, each step we take is a preparation for the next step. If racing with man still wears me out, I must first learn to run with man and not grow weary. I must first learn to conquer the small things. The truth is that He does desire for us to compete with horses one day. However, He wants us to be ready, and He’s patient in waiting.
So this month, with the Father’s help, I realized the areas I needed growth. I came to understand that I must first be able to conquer a few things before I move on to many more endeavors. This way, I am no longer held captive by my shortcomings, but can seek the heart of Christ with confidence and boldly approach the throne, all the while knowing that someday, I will be able to compete with horses and not grow weary. But that day is not quite yet.
I encourage you to ask yourself the same questions. What small things must I surrender? What races make me grow weary? And take each step with joy knowing that the training matters and is not meaningless, as each step leads you a little bit closer to glory.
Above is the missionary we met at the doctor's office. Our meeting with him helped me realize just how important the training truly is.
