When asked by loved ones back home how I am doing or what is going on, I find I am at a loss for words. How does one describe all the things I have seen and all the beautiful people I have met? How does one convey the beauty of hearing the people here worship in their language or the awe you stand in when you are a part of their prayer time? How do i describe the deep poverty I have seen, not only materialistically but also emotionally, mentally, and spiritually? How do I describe the humility that settles on me when we show up to a beautiful little church with no walls and we pass people carrying the plastic chairs that we will sit on and we take our places in the dark listening to someone preach? How do I adequately explain how making a difference in others lives has touched my heart so deeply?
Every day I witness a lifestyle so radically different than my own, that has a beauty and a hardship that are not any better or worse just different. I see the kids that wander about often taking care of the kids younger than them, and I wonder who will take care of them. I greet little ones walking down a road with no adult in sight, wandering around with no one to make sure they are safe or get back home. I go to homes to pray for people that are the size of my bedroom back home that have a piece of material spread on the ground to sleep on and a few articles of clothes piled right by it. I watch as hundreds of people line up in a festival in Nepal to give offerings to a statue hoping it will pardon them for their sins, give them financial blessing, all while punishing their enemies? Or how I stood up on a bus to preach the Gospel with knocking knees, but a tenacity to push through and preach because I want all of His sons and daughters to come home? I watch as a village of people who had never heard the Gospel before receive Christ and the chief be one of the first in line. We are asked to pray for people and I am humbled and often want them to pray for me and for the church back home. These people have very little material items but possess a hunger and a knowledge of Gods presence that makes me want what THEY have.
I have had many moments this year so far that I hope I will be able to remember every small detail. I pray I will be able to close my eyes and remember the 60 year old lady bringing her cake out to share with us when we sang her happy birthday first in English and then in her language when we stopped by her house to pray for her. I hope I will be able to remember riding under the stars in the back of the big flat bed truck the first night of Mozambique piled high with our bags, all of my team giddy with excitement and anticipation and worn out with the full day of travelling and crossing the Mozambican border. I hope I will remember our first Sunday in church there where a dance party broke out (which happens every Sunday I learned) and I couldn’t wipe the big smile off my face because of how sweetly joyful it was to be a part of. I hope i will never forget the passion the church overseas has for Christ and how hopeless people are without Jesus and how little it takes for His church to rise up and be His hands and feet. I hope I will always remember the sweet faces of orphans that I have held in between my hands and wiped their tears, speaking identity and love over them and their lives.
I hope when I get to Heaven I get to go back and look over these moments in my life and hopefully others can crowd around me and watch so that even if I am at a loss for words it will be ok.
