A year ago I left everything to travel the world, live out of a backpack, and share the love of Jesus to people of many different cultures and backgrounds. It was exciting. Sure, it wasn’t always easy, but it was such a beautiful adventure. I loved the dirty feet. The sweaty children. The simple worship. The languages I heard. The hospitality. The singing of my team to “Sedona” while we washed dishes (and then probably argued.) The crazy foreign car rides. The crazy amount of space there was that allowed me to connect with my Father in ways I never had and learning to hear His voice. Witnessing miracles and breaking down the box that I hadn’t realized I’d put Him in for so long. I loved the uncomfortable. Living every day just to do whatever God put before me. That was living to me.

 

This season is hard. Coming home is hard.

 

When you first come home, nobody knows how to act around you. Suddenly you’re this “super Christian” who people feel like they have to apologize to when they let a curse word slip. In my case, I felt like nothing back home had changed except for myself. So you just jump back into life how it’s always been. New wine in an old wineskin. You move forward- but one thing I’m finding is that the farther away I get from my time on the field, the more of an impact the things I experienced seem to have on me. How is it possible to so quickly go from having nothing and being completely satisfied to having everything and feeling such a lack? Now my experiences are constantly at war with the American culture all around me- the genuine hunger for God vs our consumerism, the massive amounts of time for Him vs our business and distractions, and a community of people so on fire for God vs a lack of community and feeling like nobody understands.

 

I think what I’m most afraid of is forgetting. I don’t want to forget a thing. I don’t want to get so wrapped up in this lifestyle that I forget to sit at His feet and just be. Or to make time for the homeless person or disabled person on the street that everyone else passes by. I want to make sure I don’t put my wild and awe-amazing God back into that box or become deaf to His voice. Now is a time to sit at His feet and worship. To pour out everything I have and just be with him. My anthem for Swaziland was the song “Defender” by Jesus Culture. How true those lyrics ring in my ears still in this season.

 

In Ecclesiastes 3 Solomon talks about there being a time for everything.

 

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build up,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

 

Then he goes on to write about how God has placed eternity in our hearts. This longing for forever is inside of us. I don’t know about you, but that answers a lot of questions I have about myself. But then he says this:

 

“ I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. “

 

Maybe now is a time in my life for weeping and mourning the close to a beautiful and flourishing season of my life. Later I’ll laugh and dance for the graciousness of what He’s done in me. Maybe it’s a time to be silent and listen for my Father’s comforting promises. Maybe it’s a time to tear down what has been and let Him build me back up.

 

But I’m confident of this: everything that He has done for and in me is echoing into eternity. It will endure. Nobody- including Satan himself- can take that away. In a life full of seasons that are constantly changing, He is the one and only thing that never will. He’s just as good and faithful now as he’s always been.

 

And now, God, do it again —

bring rains to our drought-stricken lives

So those who planted their crops in despair

will shout hurrahs at the harvest,

So those who went off with heavy hearts

will come home laughing, with armloads of blessing.

Psalm 126:4-6 MSG

 

Amen

Hallelujah