“You will be back, but it won’t be the same.”
I felt this one short sentence in my soul as a fourteen year old whose lens of the world, the Lord, and my own faith had just been widened exponentially. June of 2014, I was stepping foot on a plane that would fly me home from Ethiopia to the Atlanta airport.
My first time immersed in a country and culture not my own, I remember my heart breaking as we drove from the capital city to Awassa, where we were staying. I remember seeing children sleeping on the streets, plastic bags over their heads to shield them from wind and rain. I remember watching clean and nicely dressed men walk out of official-looking buildings and thinking, “Why don’t they help all of these little ones?”
In those 10 days, I discovered what’s truly important in life- that if you have the Lord, you have it all. I saw joy deeper than what circumstantially seems “good”. I met people with nothing American culture says you need for happiness, success, and security who possessed a level of gratitude and hospitality I’ve yet to see back home.
Ten year olds prayed with a boldness that moved hearts and brought the presence and will of God into a space. Men prophesied over our group- one who kneeled and prayed over my feet. People worshipped with abandon.
I witnessed my mom and dad come alive both in front of one hundred Ethiopian children and sitting down beside a small group, serving and using the gifts and hearts God has given them- using them well and without restraint.
I laughed and cried and saw God move in countless ways.
The world is messy and broken and yet somehow beautiful, God is so much bigger than I ever thought possible, and faith can quite literally move mountains. These things I discovered four years ago and still know to be true as I sit in this country once more.
The Lord was right, as He always is. I am back and yes, it is not the same.
I have come to understand that when that Ethiopian pastor prayed over my feet, he was praying over feet that would go and bring the good news. These feet have carried me from Georgia, all over this big world, back to where it started.
I still laugh and cry and God most definitely still moves, but this time is different. Before, my heart broke as I saw no one care for the least but four years later I know this man, our ministry host, the heart of Jesus moving through this city. Spiritually and physically, he feeds the children the world looks over. He sees them and pleads to the government on their behalf. He cares for them and I see the ways he is effecting change in their hearts and lives and in this country.
I now live daily with little of what American culture says I need instead of simply witnessing it. In doing so, I have learned at least a little of the gratitude and hospitality these people possess. Gratitude comes when you trust the Lord to provide and hospitality comes when you understand that the things you have are not your own. I am learning to hold what I have and who I am with open hands before the Lord. Kingdom comes to earth in this way.
Four years ago, I served with a church and everything we did was permeated with Gospel and Kingdom. Christ-centered church to the Muslim refugee camp we have been serving at the past week. We cannot share about the Lord or even really speak His name but still we bring the Kingdom because we bring His presence. Four years ago I taught children about the love of God and now I show them by His love in me.
I watch my teammates come alive with the vibrant personalities and love Jesus has poured over them. Liz boldly leads songs, Kayli teaches with passion, and Sammie pulls a little one into her lap. Laura lets the boys chase her around the field, Becca has a circle of girls around her, and Maggie sits with the women in front of their homes.
The Lord is so good to bring me here once more. After four years of praying and longing to return, He has kept His promises to me. He is big and moving in this place and I am excited for three months chasing His heart here.
