With only three days remaining at our ministry site here in Kampot, Cambodia, I can honestly say that I will be incredibly sad to leave. Cambodia is definitely a place that I can see myself returning to, as the people and the culture have captured my heart. Now, I’d be lying—severely—if I didn’t mention that I am ready to move on. I do miss my family and friends and I, whether sinfully and selfishly or expectedly and acceptably, long for what is next.
This whole dilemma—being ready to move on, yet longing for more time—seems utterly contradictory, yet it’s one I’ve faced time and time again on the World Race. Some months I lean much more towards the “ready to move on” side and some months I lean much more towards the “longing for more time” side, but as a generality, I fall somewhere between these two extremes every month.
Showering with buckets and muddy water really does get old, and as much as this may sound fun and adventurous to aspiring World Racers or missionaries, it really does get old—not bothersome, but old. Wearing the same four shirts and two pairs of shorts gets a little bit old too, as do repetitive meal options and the lack of contact with my family. This is the part where I say I am ready for what is next.
At the same time, however, I would be fooling myself if I failed to admit that the whole idea of “what’s next” is completely an idol. It’s pure idolatry to worship the future as savior—to think, “all of my longings will be satisfied at home, or in the next month of the race. That will save me.” Anything other than Jesus Christ as savior is idolatry. When the Israelites resolve to leave Babylon and go to Egypt as a way of fleeing their struggles, in Exodus 42, Jeremiah makes it abundantly clear that all of their struggles will simply follow them there.
I don’t want any talk of idolatry, however, to overshadow the simple truth that Cambodia is incredible. The caring adults and carefree children have drawn me in. From engagements to weddings, sugar cane juice to worship, palm trees to dirt roads, and from sweating in the relentless sun to dancing in the pouring rain with a ragtag group of muddy children this very afternoon, I have been so sucked in to this vortex of Southeast Asia, like a twig in a tornado, that even the prospect of being unchanged by this place is utterly unthinkable.
This is precisely where the “longing for more time” aspect comes into play. I long for more time here, both in the enjoyment of its simple pleasures—enough smiling, sweaty, children to override any cheap “joy substitute” I may try to fill my heart with back in the states, and enough star-drizzled skies to make almost any “great outdoors” experience I had yet experienced seem like New York City—and in the fulfillment that comes from deep pursuits. There are too many deep pursuits to count here, from the pursuit of deep relationships in house visits to the transmission of knowledge in the classroom, and they will be (sadly) unnatural to uproot in three days. I need more time.
The primary place where I simply need more time is in our Knowing God class. I do not presume to put a limit on God’s capabilities by declaring that he can’t save or sanctify instantly—what is impossible with man is possible with God (Matthew 19:26)—nor do I presume that everything God will ever do in and through that class has to be done while we are still here—that is selfish. Nevertheless, there is so much that I want to experience with that class that I just need more time to do it!
The class is truly blooming into something beautiful. We’ve walked through the Gospel in all its fullness and splendor. We’ve worshipped, told testimonies, prayed and interceded. Class attendance is rising, as is participation and conviction. The young adults are stepping into the roles God has given them as “shining stars in a crooked generation” (Philippians 2:15). God is on the move, and we are about to leave. I need more time.
The class has only crown closer to the center of my heart as Kendall and I have fought hard for them in prayer every night. With great emotion and greater conviction, we have interceded for them, and God has answered our prayers mightily—not that I should be surprised. He has brought increased numbers of students to the class, overcome language barriers, and filled the class with joy and fellowship. Tonight, we are praying for one more student to come to saving belief in Jesus Christ before we take communion. I need more time.
The tension is here. I long for what is next, but I both want and need more time. I’ve never seen it put better than Paul put it in Philippians 1:21-26:
“For me, living is Christ and dying is gain. Now if I live on in the flesh, this means fruitful work for me; and I don’t know which one I should choose. I am pressured by both. I have the desire to depart and be with Christ—which is far better—but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you. Since I am persuaded of this, I know that I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, so that, because of me, your confidence may grow in Christ Jesus when I come to you again.”
In the end, this life and the tensions we experience is a model—a “shadow” and a “copy” (Hebrews 9) of the real thing. With this mindset, I find that my seemingly contradictory feelings all work towards the same end. What permanence—what “more time”—could I long for that is, at the same time, represented by “what’s next”? I see this as a clear picture of eternal life, where a longing for sweet permanence and a longing for what is next crash into each other beautifully. I long for what is next, but I am too tired of being a sojourner. I need to remain. I need more time.
Update: After writing this in the afternoon, and with some difficulties in translation, it appears that a girl came to Christ at class tonight! Praise be to God who answers prayers richly!
