We trudge through the center square of the small village of Balabog, after being dropped off at the cement slab, making a basketball court with a crack down the middle. We waver back and forth, either due to the dog droppings or the fact that we just got off of our tricycle. The ride here either keeps you on your toes or makes you sick. To imagine what a “tricycle” is, think of a motorbike with a dinky sidecar and a roof. A small tricycle holding five large Americans can’t make it over a large speed bump, let alone a massive hill with every rut, root, stick, and stone imaginable.
Get out, push, get in, get out, push, get in.
That’s how this evening’s ride went as we passed the grove of silhouetted mango trees. Its dark enough we could no longer see the mountain edging the usual picturesque scene.
This is the third time I have made this trip from the city of Bacolod to the out skirting village of Balabog. My stomach always turns and lurches as the motorbike sputters to keep up with stones underneath and weight in its cart at the same time. Though the ride embodies adventure, the normality it has become doesn’t thrill me, and I find myself praying we make it back home without incident. I look forward to the following day that does not allot for us to make the ride into town, but stay in the village.
As we make it to the dirt road on the other side of the courts my mind fills with all of the things that need to happen in the next three weeks. Our ministry here has gone from the simple building of a nipa hut, to evangelizing the surrounding community and beginning the process of planting a church. When I was told we were now coming into this village as the first American Christian Missionaries ever with the goal of planting and building a church, I started to doubt. I doubted the time we had and whether that should be pursued in this community. And I doubted our ability to do something so seemingly large. The sugar cane fields danced in the humid breeze as we walked and I was overwhelmed with doubt. Something I had been so excited for now seemed impossible and daunting.
Turning into the road that leads to the small property we are staying on this month, people were stopped. In the dark they looked like pillars, evenly spaced as the same thing caught their attention. Curious, I followed suit and looked up.
As I looked at his masterpiece, he started to work on my heart.
HOW GREAT AM I?
Lord, you are great
HOW GREAT AM I?
You are greater than I know.
HOW GREAT AM I?
You are greater than I will ever understand
THEN WHY DO YOU DOUBT THE PLAN I HAVE LAYED OUT?
It seems like too much, I don’t know how. What do I do?
SUBMIT TO THE AUTHORITY I HAVE PLACED YOU UNDER. I WILL WORK THROUGH THE UNQUALIFIED.
Well, that’s what I am, unqualified. Please open doors in this village to build a foundation.
DO NOT DOUBT, YOU WILL IGNITE THIS COMMUNITY WITH MY NAME.
As I looked up at the beauty he had willingly created, my heart slowly turned as he spoke into me. How great is my God that I am looking into the vastness of his creation? How great is my God that I get to have a conversation with him? How great is my God that I am even in the Philippines? How GREAT is he?
I lay on the road between to harvested sugar cane fields with the few from my team still taking it in and I started to sing. Praising his name for his greatness and his worth, and the love that he has for us.
“How grea——t is our Go—–d, sing with me how grea—-t is our Go—-d”
We prayed over this ministry and what was in store for us in the next couple of weeks. We prayed over the village, the people, and the relationships God has been preparing in the time before we arrived. We prayed over our hearts and our ability to follow where the Holy Spirit leads without question. And we prayed that we would ignite this place for Him.
