“I need something to hold on to, stronger than the iron that held You.” -Belly of the Deepest Love, The Tow’rs
This life is a whirlwind. Nothing is certain, and Jesus has taken being a wild man to a whole new level.
Even those of us who are as go with the flow as it comes can get ruffled as plans constantly shift between hiccups with our flights or playing the waiting game with our visas. How quickly we succumb to the exhaustion and spiritual battles that we signed up for in the first place.
This is where I found myself, looking out over the city of Georgetown, Guyana. I hadn’t felt like a missionary in weeks as we sat in an extended “hurry up and wait” period between Colombia and our ministry sites in Guyana (which we will finally get to tomorrow). On top of my physical exhaustion, I felt suffocated under the spiritual weight of this place. Guyana is the world’s leader in suicides. Everywhere you go people are warning us to be careful and look out for each other. I walk down the street to unnerving catcalls every few feet.
So I went from the open Cartagena, Colombia that had become my home to a new city in a new country where we have to stay in groups of 4 when we leave and no one, including the men, can be out after dark. Talk about culture shock.
I felt utterly exhausted. I didn’t feel rooted in anything. And all of a sudden my self defense instincts took over as I put on my fight face to shuffle down the street to get to the closest internet source. This place just felt so dark that instead of openly loving the community I retreated into myself to find safety.
As I sat and thought about all the darkness I felt here, it dawned on me… I am a missionary. This is literally. my. job. To be His light. But I continued to find myself frustrated and exhausted as I struggled to pull myself out of this rut by my own strength. What I needed was a good cry and a lot of grace.
Which brings us to yesterday, the church we were staying with had invited us to join them in a night of evangelism an asked a few of us to prepare something to share with the community. The word God gave me to share was hope. Hope and perseverance. Later that afternoon I found myself crying out all of my worries and weight with a couple of my squadmates and not feeling particularly hopeful. My squadmate, Morgan, shared with me that God was bringing me to the “End of Self”. The end of my natural inclination to be open and loving so that He could take the reins and show Me is goodness. And still He persisted: hope.
All I wanted was to hold a tiny child while I spoke and have them fall asleep in my arms. What can I say? I’m all about the babies.
So we loaded up the buses and headed out to Kaneville. We walked around the streets for an hour or so just checking in with people and extending the invitation. We laughed, we played, we loved.
Finally, we ended up at the end of a road in the neighborhood with a massive speaker system. Time to share. I hesitated and hesitated. Did they want me to share? Was this really about God or was it about me? How do I find an acceptable opening? Naturally I waited until the last minute but I ended up with a mic in my hand. My new little friend, Diana, insisted on staying comfortably in my arms as I stood in front of the crowd.
As I shared I felt Him speaking to me and reminding me of this hope. What is there to hold on to when the nature of my life provides no sure footing? Hope. What is stronger than the iron that held him to the Cross? Hope. The hope of the resurrection. The hope in His goodness. His mercy. His love. Hope in the reality of an almighty God that allowed Himself to be bound by mere nails on a tree and died for love of me.
We tire and fall when we hold on to our own strength and capabilites. We are mortal. We will run of of steam. He is eternal and so is the hope that lives in Him. So not everything that happens to us is good but He always is. And if I have to face the sufferings of the world I will rest in the hope of the One who will bring good out of it.
As I stepped back from the crowd, Diana promptly put her head on my shoulder and began to snore.
It’s the little things, ya know?
