Some basics for those of you just now dropping in: My sister and I are about to embark an 11-month Christian mission trip to 11 different countries across 4 continents. We’re headed to: Argentina, Bolivia, Paraguay, Chile, Uganda, Ethiopia, Rwanda, Serbia, Bulgaria, Romania, Cambodia, and Thailand. The work will range from country to country in partnership with established ministries in each area. We’ll work in orphanages, build churches, minister to trafficked women, and more. Between the two of us, we need to raise a total of $36,000 by October 2017.
I’m looking at the New York City skyline. If you head to the top of my sister’s apartment building in Guttenberg, New Jersey, lean over the railing, and crane your neck eastward, the view isn’t half bad. At night, its well worth the effort. The whole city glitters.
I love this view. But it’s such a lie. I know that the serenity of tall, austere buildings is just a front for honking Uber drivers and chaotic crowds. I know that what seems like sheer size is actually a maze of cramped streets. Sparkly lights look like diamonds or stars or whatever from here. Up close, those lights are exhausting, not enchanting. The New York City skyline is just one big, beautiful, iconic lie. I think to myself, “I do not want to be in the middle of that right now.”
My life feels like that sometimes. I was born and raised in Texas. I have very loving parents and four siblings. We were raised in church. I recently turned 21 and graduated with my Bachelors in Economics and Math. I’ve worked in the State Capitol, volunteered to fight sex trafficking, and spent 3 summers abroad. I’m incredibly blessed. It’s an extraordinary life the Lord has given me. But still, I catch myself thinking that same thought. “I do not want to be in the middle of this right now.”
There are days when I know I am of the chosen people, a royal priest, and a part of God’s holy nation. When I am strong, I know I am God’s special possession, and I declare the praises of him who called me out of darkness into his wonderful light. But some days are different. Some days I cry like David did and say “I was brought forth in iniquity. In sin my mother conceived me.” There are days I feel unsaved, sinful, fallen short of the glory of God. I have lots of ambition and not so much direction. I am passionate about God and yet consistently let him down.
And suddenly I’m done describing myself. I’m a mess. That’s it. But I am also a daughter of the King. First and foremost saved by grace through faith- faith not of myself, but instead a gift from God. There are no works I can boast in. And I know that the worse I am, the more depraved my soul, the greater the love of God that I should be called his child. So that’s me. Full of sin and grace. And I’m excited to start this next adventure.
