“Im worried I’ll lose myself” is what I told my mom on the phone. She told me it’s called flexibility but I thought it was a cop-out.
Since I became a Christian, I’ve talked up what “doing hard things for the gospel” looks like. My New Years resolution, my birthday journaling, my chosen topic of conversation. Bright-eyed I stepped onto my campsite in Gainesville, Georgia and thought to myself, “this is it. this is what hard things for the gospel looks like” so I set up my tent, I used porta potties, and I debunked lies that had been running my life for way too long. It hurt sometimes, it was hard, but I loved it. Overall, it was easy. So I got onto the plane to Costa Rica, and i imagined what hard would look like. I imagined the uncomfortable things I’d be called into for the gospel. So I walked onto our base, I slept with roaches, I talked to strangers on the street about Jesus, I watched passions come alive, and I dove deep into my inner workings as a Christian. Logistically, you could say it was hard. Showers were cold and language barriers stink, but I kind of enjoyed it. It was oddly comfortable. The streets felt like ones I’d known me whole life. So, once again, I got onto a plane and landed in the Dominican Republic. This was the hardest one. My wilderness, you could say. But even as I trudged through the hardest days, it was comfortable. I went days wiping with leaves, slept in a moldy tent, and went deeper into new things with the Lord. So, why? Why wasn’t that the hard thing for the gospel for me? Why did people tell me that refining seasons and blood, sweat, and tears would be poured into it and I’d walk out knowing “whew. At least it was to the glory of God!” Why did I feel more at home than I ever have?
“Jesus, I want to do hard things for the gospel.”
“So. Go to college. Go to liberty university”
Easy answer. Run. As someone who’s read Jonah many times, I should’ve known the outcome. I ran. I looked for anything else. I explored new gap years. I found ships, work aways, and countries far away that I could be effective in. I looked for new jobs and I looked for anything to distract me from that. “Lord, didn’t i already do the hard thing for the gospel?”
Long story short, i ended up in the exact spot i knew I would, signing up for classes at Liberty University. For days, I panicked and sobbed to squad mates. For hours, I sat with the Lord in prayer fearing losing myself. For nights, I sat up trying my hardest to imagine myself walking a college campus. I feared, and still fear, that the me that comes alive in jungles and mountain villages would be thwarted.
Would I still want to do hard things for the gospel if it meant the hard thing wasn’t hard in the worlds eyes?
Maybe my feet feel most comfortable planted in soil that sits in a Latin American country. Maybe I feel most alive in a room of people I can only understand 50% of the time. Maybe I like to bargain at a market and maybe it’s easy to me. Maybe you could tell me to pick up my life and move, but offering school is refining.
But maybe. Maybe there’s souls that are waiting to be awakened with fire that walk past me everyday. Maybe there’s dry bones just waiting for breath that are sitting on campus. Maybe doing hard things for the gospel means setting up a dorm, going to class, and doing homework. Will I still say yes?
yes, I’m terrified. I write this while talking a break for packing my entire life I to one 60L backpack for the last time. I think I’d rather have cold showers and language barriers. I’d rather not have data and live in a tent. But over all these things, I’d rather follow the Lord any and everywhere. How could I say no to a God this faithful and true? This intentional, the only promise keeper with a record of 100%. He’s never failed! OKAY GOD!!!! Here I come!!!! Jireh, you are enough.
see you soon, usa <3
