Most of our first week at ministry in Malaysia has been spent in a room, it’s a room they like to call the Bazar. At the beginning of the week, it was filled with clothing, belts, ties, women’s shirts, sari’s, skirts, men’s wear, and even some soccer jersey’s for teenagers; boxes with holes, crates with stuffed animals, you name it (and it still has a long way to go). Looking at the mess at the beginning of our time here seemed daunting and overwhelming to me, it felt like there was nothing I/we could do to undo the mess that had already been made in this large room.
Our first task was to sort out clothes between women’s, mens, children, and Indian / Malaysian wear. Our overseer would then sift through what we had already done to make sure it was good, and then she assigned me the task of folding the clothing. In a nutshell, the clothing I folded was going to go straight to what they call “recycling” (our version of Goodwill in the states). However, when I was told that the stuff I was folding neatly was only going to leave the Bazar, it made me frustrated and annoyed. What was the point in folding so much clothing and tying it together if it was just going to go somewhere where it would have to be sifted through AGAIN?
As the days have gone on and as the task of folding clothes that are only going to “recycling” has been given to me time and time again, I can either stew over the fact that this “really isn’t doing much” (which is what my human brain usually succumbs to for about a half hour) or I can then let the Lord work on my heart and look around at what has already been done, how half the Bazar has already been cleaned out because of the work our team has been doing from organizing clothing, stuffed animals, and all sorts of odds and ends in this room.
I came to Malaysia quite upset, if I’m being honest. Things that were out of my control messed me up – things that I wasn’t expecting to happen Month 7 of the Race. The night before we left debrief, I was called out on some of my crap… No one really likes that, so it set me off on an angrily crying tangent with the Lord for half the night because for the past four months in Asia, He’s been patiently knocking on my door (not as my Lover, like He revealed Himself to be for me in Africa, but as my Father) asking “Ashley, Ashley, are you there? Let me in.”
I wasn’t ready for it. I didn’t want to believe that what He tells me was and is True, Right, and Holy – so I retaliated by making believe that everything was okay and all right. I turned my back on Him while walking out of the room with my own mess at hand and I put on a brilliant show for Him when all He wanted from the very beginning was my heart; not the show, not the stars and fluffy matter, He just wanted me in all my messy glory.
So I came to Malaysia, giving Him all I had – just me. Giving Him my anger, frustration, resentment, annoyance with no direction and for taking people that meant so much to me away. I wrote it all down with no filter. I stewed with Him for days upon arriving here. He didn’t talk back, He just listened with a grace I still don’t deserve or understand. That annoyed me. The only thing God is, though… Is jealous that I continually give my heart to other things before Him.
Recently, He reminded me of a beautiful morning I had with Him back in Ethiopia. We were watching the sun rise over the trees and He asked me a question He’d been wanting me to pay attention to since I had been accepted on the Race. He asked if I would be okay with it just being me and Him for a while. I asked Him what it would look like – and He told me it would be amazing… I don’t think I really answered His question, though. I wrote that journal what feels like eons of time ago and it struck my heart in a new way within all the chaos and frustration I had been pushing onto Him for days. I was reminded through the journal that all He wants is for me to own up to the mess With Him first.
As we have worked on this room called the Bazar here in Malaysia, I can’t help but see the mess all around me, metaphorically and physically. I keep thinking about how before all the cleanliness and clarity happens, it has to get messy first. It’s a frustrating process, to sift through and fold clothes I know are only going to be sent away, but just like cleaning out this room is a messy process, cleaning out my crap with the Lord is also a really messy and frustrating process – because it hurts.
Sometimes we need to hit rock bottom, need to get clothes thrown everywhere – sifted through over and over again – before our rooms can be cleaned out and for His truth to take root. We don’t necessarily have to feel the truth in order for it to still be true, though – and that’s one thing I have realized on my own since coming to Malaysia and learning to lay all my Real Feels down at the cross with Him. When I go through a hard and painful process or season, it’s hard to feel like His truth is real…
But it’s still truth – it’s still real – whether I feel it or not.
