We left the beautiful beaches of Nha Trang and travelled back to Ho Chi Minh on an overnight sleeper bus. I was only able to sleep for the last hour of our 10 hour trip, which meant that I had a whole lot of quiet time to think and pray.
I sat staring out the window with tired eyes, watching the silhouettes of palm trees float by us in the misty moonlight while those around me slept soundly in their bunks. It was so peaceful.
We had just spent Christmas in Nha Trang and were making our way back to Ho Chi Minh City for our last week of ministry. I thought about the last three weeks I’d just spent here in Vietnam, and how quickly they’d slipped through my fingers. Our month really hadn’t gone at all the way I thought it would. ATL (Ask the Lord) month was supposed to be full of thrill and excitement, wasn’t it? No one to tell us what to do or how to live—just a bunch of nomads going wherever the Lord called us. So why was it that I couldn’t wait for this month to be over? Why did it feel as if the days were dragging on and I had nothing to show for it?
Sure, there had been some good moments and opportunities. I’d had some great conversations while sitting on park benches and sipping Vietnamese coffee in some of the many cafes lining the streets of Saigon. One of my favorite things about this city and culture is how open and eager the locals are just to talk with foreigners. They’ll sit down beside you with no reservations or hesitation just to practice their English with you. My team and I were able to get involved with a local church and spent some of our days helping out with their children’s ministry, which mostly involved teaching kids English. We visited a children’s home and even got to put on a Christmas play for the kids there (this was my favorite day by far!).
I had really enjoyed all of that, but still I couldn’t seem to get over the feeling that I had somehow failed this month. ATL month hadn’t been anything like what I had expected. Most days felt aimless. I didn’t know what I was good at or what I was supposed to be doing. The endless small talk with people–most of whom could speak only minimal English–was completely draining. I really hate small talk. The days were blurring together and the monotony of the Race that I’d been warned about time and time again was beginning to set in.
But as frustrating as all this was, God was revealing something to me. I realized the reason I was so ready to move on from Vietnam was that up to that point, I hadn’t had the opportunity to really see the fruit of my labor. But He was teaching me that just because I couldn’t see the fruit of my labor this month, that doesn’t mean that any of it was insignificant–and it certainly doesn’t mean that I failed.
He showed me that sometimes our job is just to scatter the seeds and allow others to come along and water them. And that’s OK.
Even though I may not get to see those seeds take root and produce fruit, I have to trust that in time they will. I have to trust that the Lord will continue pursuing these people. I can scatter the seeds, but only He can make them take root. That part is out of my control.
Entering into my last week here in Vietnam, it would be so easy just to check out. It would be so easy for me to believe the lie that one week isn’t enough to make a lasting impact. But I won’t allow myself to fall into that mindset.
So, sitting on my bunk in the middle of the night amongst the snores and gentle wrestlings of a bus full of people, I prayed. I prayed for Him to transform me and show me what it means to live out of the abundance of His love every single day. I prayed for Him to teach me what it means to give more of myself—to give all of myself. I prayed prayers of thanksgiving for the work that had been done and the seeds that had been planted. I prayed for those who are called to come and water what’s been planted, and for the Lord to allow those seeds to take root and produce lasting fruit for years to come. And whether or not I’m there to witness any of it, I know He will.
And that’s enough for me.
