I’ve been hesitant to start writing here, as blogging is completely new to me and I can barely keep up with a personal journal. So many things kept me from this: business, procrastination, forgetfulness, a loss for words, fear, procrastination… I’ve truly never been much of a writer, and it was always my least favorite part of school, so what d’ya know, Jesus made it a part of this journey. Hilarious; really, I’m laughing at the whole situation. I don’t really know where to begin, so I guess I’ll just close my eyes and point to a spot on the timeline of events.
When I was a wee tot living in the farmlands of Missouri, my mom used to load me up in the backseat of her eggplant-colored minivan and drive us sixteen hours to North Carolina to visit our friends about two to three times a year. I remember making little drawings in neon colors on black paper to pass the time when I wasn’t watching landscapes go by. I loved every one of those road trips. I guess that’s when I first started realizing my love for traveling. When I was still the same wee tater I once walked out the back door while my parents were still in bed, carrying out my desire to be one of those princesses who could walk around the forests and sing and develop unrealistic relationships with animals (I grew up on Disney). Really what I was loving was the independence in the exploration, up until my mom brought me back inside in a panic because her two-year-old kid had just skiddley-bopped out of the house without even leaving a note. I guess that’s when I first started realizing my love for adventure. Take all that and add Jesus’s saving grace and I now have been given a heart and passion for missions.
I think I started really considering this as a serious path for my life when I started questioning the sovereignty of the Lord at the start of my walk with him. I didn’t understand how someone so loving could allow those who had never heard his word to be eternally separated from him. It didn’t seem fair. The more I dug into this thought, and the more I searched for an answer, I began to feel a pull to go. Yes, I believe missions here is important, but I can rely on others to spread the gospel here with a certainty that they would, but I couldn’t rest with the idea of relying on others going to these other places that haven’t been reached, or even to those places where Christianity isn’t allowed. It began to dawn on me: if I am so concerned, why don’t I do something about it? Obviously I’m not going to reach the entire world (or who knows, maybe Jesus will give me Santa status to travel the world in one day), but it just makes sense to be a part of reaching the entire world. I’ve had some of the most challenging times of my life in my walk with Jesus, but it’s all been worth it, because at the end of the day, he holds my entire life in his hands, and, believe it or not, that’s a peaceful thought. I want to be able to tell people that, yes, I understand the sacrifice that comes with following him, but I also know the other end of it, and it’s better than anyone could ever imagine.
Here I am now, with a couple of backpacks and a crazy reliance on the Lord, both financially and spiritually, and I’ve never had so much joy. Yes, I’m going through stress and frustration and moments of not knowing what the heck I’m doing, but I have been filled with joy through it all. Some may call me a missionary, and some may just think I’m a kid who’s looking for adventure anywhere, but either way, I’m going to spread the love of Jesus because he loves me. And, man, what a feeling that is.
