To be or not to be, that is the question.
…and then psalm 23 answers me:
“I shall not be.”
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i have been writing “the psalms project” – dedicated to my dear squad leader: HanaBeth – who challenged me to take on this assignment.
The other day i got to Psalm 23.
Sometimes i pray or meditate on psalm 23 because i know it really well, and have been reciting it since i was very young.
I had this little book my Aunt had given me that id carry around with psalm 23 in it…
And the other week i started thinking about the way it phrases itself: “i shall not be”, and God’s name, “I Am”.
He is, and i shall not be.
“The Lord is”, it starts. And then, “I shall not be”.
So who am i to be?
I am to stop, and realize who He is, and then from that foundation, realize who i am not. And how He, being who He is, makes me ….
I am provided for.
I am resting.
I am lead.
I am restored.
I am guided.
I am protected.
I am comforted.
I eat in company.
I am annointed, chosen, bestowed upon.
I have more than enough.
I am pursued by goodness, by mercy, by faithfulness.
I have a final destination WITH Him.
I am to dwell & abide now, and then, in His presence.
I am not alone.
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I just arrived to Ethiopia in the wee hours of thursday morning: 130am…
We finally dragged our stuff outside the airport into the parking lot where buses with racks on top awaited us.
My whole body was tingling with exhaustion.
We’d gone to bed in the wee hours of wednesday morning and woken an hour and a half later, stumbled into the empty streets at 4am and taken taxis to the Sophia airport. Then all day plane rides and layovers, airport talks with teammates and 5 movies later stumbled off the plane into Ethiopia with 3 total hours of sleep in two days…
Our bags were slung attop the buses and then we left, and i slept until we arrived at our beds for the night, where i dizzily dragged my bag up a flight of stairs and fell into the first open door – onto an empty bed and woke there in the morning still fully dressed.
And then i spent a day – probably the most restful day of my life on the race – and the sickest (woman wise) – laying in bed and lazily wandering the halls…
I stared out windows into a new world and wondered, what does God have for me?
…
Facts about me:
– i have sworn more in the past four months than i have my entire life
– i realize i verbalize too many facts that ive noticed, which ends up just sounding like complaining or people bashing
– i am less mature that i want to be when i am not conscious about how i am speaking, living, acting around and with people
– i often choose not to be as kind as i can be, because i dont want to try more than i already am – aka, i am lazy
– i am a real christian : sinner in need of grace, every moment, every day, even while sleeping…and Christ is thee only one that could possibly save me. Ive tried and i just cant be enough: good enough, self controlled enough, kind enough, forgiving enough…enough of anything. Im constantly messing up even as i attempt to do rightly…
– i have very little self regulation: basically no good daily habits or motivations…
and
– i have no inkling what-so-ever of what i am going to do after the race.
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All around me people are excitedly finding confirmation of going back to what they left, or being invited into a new thing with God. And over here i am clueless.
I told God that when i finished paying off my university debts my life was His. And here i am on a year long volunteering trip attempting to give God space to speak…, and yet how much time have i actually sat and listened?
If im honest, not much.
And again at Awakening, an event i attended with 4 other WorldRace Squads in Cambodia, i stepped forward and told God, my life is irrevokably yours, do with me what you want. A dangerous invitation…and yet….?
And my word God gave me at the beginning of Cambodia, while water painting on the floor of our hostel: invited. I am invited this year by God…
what does that mean, God?
And desires.
And dreams…
I just havent found them.
So what now?
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Outside the rain pounds down on the street causing rivers and lakes…cars speed by eachother, people skuttling along with or without umbrellas. The rain pings off the corragated metal roofs of little places clumped together across the street…the water brown on the street: chocolate milk.
I sit in a velvet throne like chair behind two story glass with a small little cup of expresso that cost me a dollar.
It is so strong my throat almost doesnt swallow.
i cant explain the way it has its own ethnic taste.
…
Tastes of a thousand shots – the blood of berries black with fire.
Like youve burnt your tongue – yet you still retain your tastebuds…like youre tasting all the suffering that ever hit this red soiled land.
A fist squeezes the beans until they yeild
The tears of a thousand fields
The rocks cry out
Coffee.
My team and i will be doing UnsungHeros (again for me) this month: searching for people for Adventures in Missions to partner with in the future.
My team came to this coffee shop down the street this morning and spent several hours researching potential hosts.
We left our first housing yesterday and came here to Addis Ababa, found an AirBnB 7 stories up (without wifi), walked 4 miles to find a grocery store, and spent our first evening alone as a team getting to know eachother better…
And now, i sit alone in the coffee shop, wondering again, “Who shall i be? Who the h*** shall i be?“
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.
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Prayer requests for this month:
– good churches to attend
– miraculous amazing future partner connections stories
– good bonding and teamwork with my new team
– safety and health
– cheaper accomodations
– focus in my spiritual life
– direction comprehension
– abiding in the Lord
– better daily routines
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also, when we left bulgaria, our dear little neighbor was beaten by her husband after hanging out with us. We wanted to bless her and encourage her in the Lord, but it resulted in her being violently assaulted by her husband.
please pray for her and her little son to be able to escape that situation…
i cant get her beaten defeated face out of my mind…nor the sadness that we couldnt thank her or say goodbye out of my heart.
Please pray for our last host (our host in Bulgaria) too.
Pray for God to bless him and his ministries and to heal his heart over whatever made him glad to see us leave. It grieves my heart that there was never any mutual ground between us.
