There are many instances on the Race when my words are called upon, but so often, they are inadequate.
I find that there is not enough time or opportunity or depth. I try to stretch across languages and cultures, but words are a tablespoon out of an ocean of heartspeak; they cannot and do not fully communicate what I mean.
The best example I can think of is thank-you. I use that same phrase in so many contexts.
Thank you, to my three-second interaction with a Nepali shopkeeper. Thank you, to the Ethiopian conductors who pointed me to the right taxi. Thank you, to the Guatemalan peddler who helped me find the grocery store. Thank you, to the El Salvadorian men who carried a heavy cake on their laps for over an hour so that I didn’t have to stand with it. Thank you, to a Cambodian tour guide I never met who talked me through and across the Thai border. I called him twelve times, but ran out of minutes before I could say a proper goodbye. Thank you, to our Ugandan friends who personally escorted us into our next countries. Thank you, to our Malay chuch who went above and beyond the call of the body of Christ.
Thank you. But thank you doesn’t convey my gratitude. The best I can do is intone my words differently, with varying degrees of enthusiasm and sincerity. Smile, with different levels of scrunch in my eyes and nose.
Ever since I learned this lesson in Africa, it seems like my heart is experimenting with expressing itself in other ways.
When I met a daughter of the King who could not see her own beauty, I made bracelets, braiding love and truth into coloured string. When squadmates began to leave, I curled up into a ball and sobbed until my tears ran dry. When the Lord took people from my communities back home, I sat in silent solidarity for hours. As I fall more in love with the family around me, I fight harder for what they need and want. And when all else fails, I appeal to you and your intercession, in hopes that your Spirit-groans will harmonize with mine.
These are things I can only tell you, because I cannot show you. But words are simply not enough.
Many of you want to know how I’m doing after recent events on the squad and back home.
I don’t really know how to explain the paradox of my reality right now – one of deep sadness and profound joy.
I have never thought about going home more. I have never loved life and ministry on the Race more. I feel like I have been grieving for a very long time. I feel like I have not properly grieved at all. I have trouble looking forward to anything more than a day or two in front of me. I am learning that the present is not a terrible place to live.
In short, I am still on the ark. We have two months to go.
God is still faithful. God is still good.
And that is all I need to know.
A Brief Playlist: Lead Me On – Audrey Assad, Through Your Eyes – Jenny & Tyler, Reflection – Coty Sloan, Listen To Our Hearts – Steven Curtis Chapman, When Darkness Falls – Jenny & Tyler, Oh Our Lord – All Sons & Daughters
