I’ve been struggling to describe the last 3 months in Africa while slowly soaking in the truth that there are only 8 weeks left of this crazy trip. Still working on that blog 😉 patience!
There are so many blogs I could have written, and so many days I could have described to you to attempt to explain how hard this trip is.
THIS TRIP IS HARD.
I miss EVERYTHING.
I miss my family, and my friends, and I miss America. I miss having a choice of food, and I miss the freedom and the safety I had at home. In Malaysia and in Tanzania, I sometimes cried myself to sleep. It’s not that I’m not thankful, it’s just… hard.
Maybe it’s the beggars missing limbs, or the little children with tattered clothing in the streets.
Maybe it’s the men who are so depraved I can see it in their eyes, or the women who are so obviously broken but I can’t speak their language to encourage them.
Maybe it's the nightmares, illnesses, and the spiritual darkness constantly around us.
Maybe it’s that moment when we walk into a home, and there are flies everywhere, and it’s just a dark little room.
Maybe it’s the struggle I see all around me. If life were a videogame, I’ve seen people playing on level expert, and everything is 100 times more difficult. I’m used to easy. I don’t know how they’re making it.
They make it without running water. They walk around with giant jugs and buckets, carrying the water home. It’s a heavy burden.
I’ve seen people digging in trash dumps, children digging in trash dumps.
I’ve seen people bowing down to giant statues, putting food bowls out on the street for the gods, and how infuriatingly futile idolatry is.
Maybe it's having a squadmate robbed with a machete held to her neck. It's not candyland.
It’s enough to make me angry, upset, and heartbroken, and want to throw in the towel, say 'forget it, the great commission thing is too crazy' and want to buy a plane ticket.
But sometimes something happens that takes my breath away, and makes me stop, and my jaw drop, and my heart skip, and I catch myself thinking “that makes it all worth it.”
We went to visit a family on top of a mountain, and their little kid who was laying in bed sick sat up and read a Bible passage out loud in Nepali. He blessed me more than I could have possibly blessed him, with his childish voice confidently reading the Word.
Moments like the cutest elderly lady giving me a huge hug and holding my hand, looking at me like I just cured cancer or achieved world peace.
Or when we arrive at our ministry site in Nepal and realize we have mountains and a river in our backyard.
Or when a grandpa stands up in the middle of worship and starts dancing around the room, like David did. His joy blessed me.
Or when we ask a Nepalese family what their prayer requests are, and they ask us to pray for their goat. So we do.
Praying for healing of a Tanzanian lady, and watching her delight as her leg pains were gone.
When my teammates all gather around a laptop to watch the Bachelorette or New Girl, and just connect with each other in a way few people can understand.
Rocking a Thai little toddler to sleep.
When the Tanzanian pastor’s little girl wraps her arms around my neck and doesn’t let go, and gives me a million Eskimo kisses.
Learning how to bamboo dance with my Cambodian students.
Being swarmed for hugs by the primary school kiddos in Rwanda, and hearing them sing songs about Jesus.
Holding a 10-year-old orphan as he cried in my arms, and telling him how loved he is.
The tears, the frustrations, the risk, the travel days, the uncertainty of everything, the abandon, the grief, and the poverty… there are moments that make it all worth it.
Jesus has given me sufficient joy and perspective to realize that my daily choice to pick up my cross and follow Him is worth it.
Sunrise in Dar es Salaam…
yeah, that’s a dove and a heart. The Holy Spirit loves me ;]
It’s not easy, by any means… but it’s worth it.
