How does one find the words to capture such beauty as we had beheld upon the footholds of the great and mighty Himalayas, or deep inside the etched valley floor along the road leading to Pokhara, leading to Chitwan, leading to the very heart of the people of Nepal. How does one search one’s vocabulary for the soliloquy that is our empathy toward the embodiment of One body, One mind, One heart, and One soul for Jesus Christ.
How does one reply to the eye of the one who has not seen, has not heard, has not known the intimacies of the Kingdom within the communities we served, we loved, we immersed in and broke bread with.
How does one relate the great wake within our breaking hearts for the time when our minds would say goodbye, but our hearts hold on forever in joy and in love for one another.
It can’t be done. I already know. My mind is racing with ideas, thoughts, and words beyond comprehension but the truth remains my real intention was not that I’ve had nothing to put into this blog. But because the moments, the memories, the great treasures we’ve had stewardship over in these past four weeks have been held so close to my heart, I don’t think I could ever fully express the work my God has done in me. So I will try; I’ll give my fullest and best; I will attempt the insurmountable and give a symphony of letters to unveil the great mystery of what it is to be disciples of this great and mighty nation. A place where people exist on a new plane, a new platform, a new life entirely. Here it is, my testimony of how the one and only brought me to this moment of reckoning, of reinventing, of new beginning. A place from which I might build up a foundation, ever solid, forever steady. I’m ready. Lord, I’m ready.
I’m actually quite astounded by my lack of words. Normally I’m the type to write out an endless essay on my friends, my experiences, my passion and thought. I am especially quick to write about the things that God is doing. He’s just so good, and all I can do is give praise, so of course I must. But this time is different.
You may find bits and pieces scattered throughout the waves of social media, but never before have I truly felt that these experiences — the people, the team, the work itself — left me breathless. Left me without word. Left me in reminiscence of it all, left me to dwell and to process and to admire and love every bit of it so well that I have nothing to write, nothing to say, no comparison for the betterment of my audience.
To try and explain things would be far too inadequate for my language to convey. I couldn’t paint a vivid enough portrait, and that unsettles my heart. But at least I’ll share what I can, and give God the rest.
Today is a different kind of struggle, a different look at what difficulty truly entails. It’s a subtle shift but such a drastic change. See, currently I’m sat at a white table, headphones snuggled in my ears as melodies of worship ease my soul and settle my heart, gazing out the window to a sun shiny patio, empty for company. At this point in the day, the remainder of my teammates have begun the journey home. Whether they’ve caught a plane or hopped in a car, they carry with them the memories and the thoughts reflective of the last month we spent as a family. One home, one heart, one body for Christ.
In final debrief yesterday as we prepare for reentry they taught us how to hold these memories so precious and close, and also how to take this time to stack ebenezer stones on the edge of this path we wandered, from the valley we entered, entrance to the mountain we’ve just descended.
We were shown how to be culture makers back in our own homes, back in the community to which we belong. What does it look like for us to take these kingdom eyes back with us, to cultivate the atmosphere of God’s good faith and His everlasting promises, and how do we use this as a platform to spread more of His word far and wide. One thing our field advisor said that’ll stick with me is, “Faith as little as a mustard seed can grow into a pillar that can’t be pushed over.”
An experience like this can become a pedestal, it can become the height of our existence and the only thing of importance we can ever say we did. Or it can become a platform from which we launch into the rest of our lives and from which we grow into who God calls us to be. When I think of those thirteen people I spent the last thirty days with I think of the common ground upon which we stand, but by which each of us is directed to a different area of life. My good God is working in the lives of my friends to bring His love and joy back to their homes, to their people, and to the rest of His kingdom waiting to be rescued in the midst of trial and suffering. We’ve seen things, heard things, felt things move and shift in a way we never have before. In a way that builds our faith. That makes us conquerors in the eyes of our enemies. In a way that took us deeper, built us stronger, raised us higher. I now know what it is to tread deeper waters, and to come alongside people who are seeking discipleship. I know what is is to invite, invest, and intercede for the people I love.
The point of our lives was not this month; but it’s how this month affects the rest of our lives. It’s how we live moving forward, the habits we’ve formed, the beauty we’ve seen and the glory we now know. It’s how we say yes to God, even in the mystery, even in the unknown and how we walk with each other after this, in every moment going forward.
John 17:4 captures it beautifully, “I have brought you glory on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do.”
It’s my only real desire to walk in and fulfill the work God has given me to do. To give all glory, all thanks, all praise to the God of heaven to everyone on earth. If this is my one good deed, that I would lay down every part of my life to the cause of the great and mighty God, then my life has been full of purpose and value. That I would be intentional with living. With people. With a heart chasing after God, and that never stops running.
So even though this is hard, even though my thirteen brothers and sisters have scattered to their corners of the world, and even though this has been a whirlwind experience unlike anything we could ever replicate, I know whom I have believed and I am convinced that this is the life to which I am called. I will forever sing His praise, even in my wandering, even in life’s not so beautiful moments and even when it hurts like never before. You’re a good, good father. From this very moment let my life reflect Your love. Amen.
