When I was about 3 or 4, my family took a trip to Sri Lanka to visit my grandparents. My mom grew up there. I remember bits and pieces of the trip; almost getting run over by a train, cutting out snow-flake designs with my grandfather, and the suffocating heat. But the memory I have that stuck with me for so long, with incredible detail, was when we were walking down the street. See, if you don’t know much about Sri Lanka, it’s a very poor country. They had a 20-something year civil war that really destroyed the country – that war JUST ended, very recently. There are homeless people everywhere, and they make their homes on the sidewalks. As we were walking down the crowded street, there was a man sitting on the sidewalk, on a small piece of cardboard. He was begging for money…and I stopped walking. I remember he was wearing very dirty clothes, and his hands were filthy, but I had to stop. And I wasn’t afraid, and I don’t remember curiosity being the motivator…it was something about this man that made my heart feel very strange. Something in his voice or his eyes. I wanted to give the man some money, and I had a few rupees in my purse – but my mom grabbed me and told me no, that he was drunk and would just use the money for more alcohol. I didn’t understand at the time, but I do now – giving freely sometimes isn’t the best thing you can do for someone. It’s the whole “teach a man to fish” thing. Anyway, at a young age, I caught a glimpse of poverty and felt the injustice – although I couldn’t put that into words until I was older.
Fast forward to the awkward years of middle school. I signed up for a mission trip to Tennessee during spring break. It was a work trip, and we would build houses for people who needed them. My parents had to force me to go – I didn’t want to go and didn’t see the point, and besides that, what middle school kid wants to go on a work trip during their spring break?!? I thought they were being cruel, but really, they were starting a spark in my life that would ignite into something pretty crazy! In Tennessee, I witnessed heart-breaking poverty – right here in the US – and it really shook my world. I returned home with a different perspective. I stayed in contact with the homeowners I’d gotten to know, for at least a year, until the letters stopped coming. Their names were Gloria and Barry – and they both had an amazing grip on joy…they had practically nothing, and they were both elderly and sick, but they found hope and joy and rest in Jesus Christ. Through them, God pulled me towards Him – and towards His plan for my life.
Then I went to New Mexico. We did the whole VBS thing at a Navajo Indian Reservation. By the end of the week, we had over 10 kids accept Jesus as the Lord and Savior of their lives! When I returned home, my heart ached. I missed the kids I’d gotten to know, and I felt as though there was still so much work to be done! I also had my first encounter with the reality of spiritual warfare – and witnessed the incredible power that is in the very name of Jesus.
In Mexico, we stayed at an orphanage that my church was supporting. We were there to teach English. We got very close with our assigned “language buddy” and learned the stories of the children at the orphanage…the worst things imaginable had happened to these kids. But when I watched them interact with the others, or when I listened to them pray before each meal, or when I was playing basketball with the older kids, I saw Jesus. I saw Him in their eyes. I saw His healing power in their hearts…past all the scars that have terrible memories tied to them – I saw His power and His mercy. He loves those kids so much! I was so blessed by them…and when I returned the next spring break, it was wonderful seeing how they’d all grown. Not just in years, but in their relationships with God.
When I returned home, I remember standing in the doorway to my room and bursting into tears. I looked at all the things I had, and it sickened me. I couldn’t understand why I was given this life, here, with a solid roof above me and parents who loved me, while the kids at the orphanage had been through awful abuse, neglect, violence, and everything else.
But after a while, I got re-settled. I got back into old habits, and tried not to think too much about the kids I missed so much. I still wanted to do missions later in my life, but I was willing to put it off so that I could do the things I wanted to do. After all, I was in High school. Young and reckless, right?
But it felt so wrong…because everything I’d involve myself in (good or bad) didn’t seem right. I knew there was something else. End of my senior year, I lost a really great friendship – I knew him for a really long time. We’d talked about getting married, and I set my heart on that. When it fell apart, I told God, “Lord, I really need you to tell me what to do now.” And I didn’t just mean with losing my friend. I wanted every decision to be guided and led by God, because the decisions I’d made for myself ended up failing completely. I wanted God to be the foundation of my life, because everything was meaningless otherwise. He’s the only one worth living for, and so I kept asking Him to make it clear to me if medical missions was the plan He had for me. It was the desire that had been growing in my heart for years, but I wondered if it was what I wanted for myself, or if it was what God wanted. He spoke to me in a dream, and told me flat out what I’m supposed to do with this life I’ve been given – and the desire in my heart was pointing me the right way.
So, I signed up for a 2month trip to Swaziland in 2009. I spent a summer with the most amazing people I’ve ever known…the Swazi’s are selfless and kind; loving and gentle. They let us into their lives and we spent each day with them…learning more about their culture and how best to show them the love of God. I hope and pray that our work there and that our words were effective – but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that when your goal is to serve the Lord with everything – he just blows your mind. I learned more from the Swazi people than 20 years in church each week ever taught me. I held a little boy, weak from neglect and abuse and hunger, and saw Jesus instead of a helpless little child. I watched as God provided bread, out of no where, so that a small group of hungry children could eat something. I felt complete joy wash over me when I saw and experienced the power there is in praying. I also felt God confirm my call to missions. By the time the 2 months was over, I wanted to stay. I didn’t want to leave and knew that 2 months wasn’t long enough. That small village had become like home – and my house Colorado seemed like a complete new world.
I got back into school, and work, and hanging out with friends, but everything was different. Each day, I found myself crying out to God for the Swazi people – a people threatened to be wiped out by AIDS by 2050. I felt a connection to two different worlds – the one I’d created here in the United States, and the one that had begun in Africa. I was torn, yes…but slowly I began to realize that I needed God alone. No one else. And God, He promised to be faithful, and He loved me. I needed to be content wherever He placed me, and I started to see people in need around me. Maybe not the physical needs – but the emotional ones. People all around me were hurting, and God broke my heart for them.
As this last semester ended, I didn’t have much peace about taking summer and fall classes. I’d had it all planned out, and it made no sense to me why I’d put these classes on hold. But I just couldn’t register for the classes. So I prayed. And some very good friends came around me and prayed over me, and very clearly, I heard a voice say “The World Race”. Nothing else. No explanation, or “Hey just kidding!” I felt peace about an 11-month mission trip into chaos, madness, and the unknown but complete turmoil about summer and fall classes in a major I wanted more than anything? It doesn’t compute very well. So I just prayed more…and got more people involved. It came down to this: my parents needed to be supportive of the trip. If they weren’t, then it wasn’t the right time. So I prayed and prayed and prayed, and then I talked to my parents.
They supported me.
I’m not sure how the money’s going to come in. All I know is that in the years that I’ve followed the World Race blogs and updates, I’ve felt drawn to it. It was always that one thing I’d never be able to do…that dream that I’d never really experience. Until now! And I know that God brought me to this point for a reason – all my doubts are destroyed when I let myself remember His power. I’m excited to meet all of you and hear your stories…God’s really great at writing our stories if we just step back and let Him!
Guess that’s about it. All of the above is how I’ve been called to Missions. And I think there’s probably more to come 🙂
