The race is full of adventure- some days it’s fun adventure where you hike a mountain and soak in the view from the top. Some days it’s really hard.
Some days the adventure looks like being put on the spot in front of an entire church congregation when they ask you to buy them a building to meet in. How do you even begin to explain how you don’t have that kind of money?
It’s hard to hear a woman say “My husband has given me permission to leave with you all and go to America; please don’t leave without me.” What do you even say to that?
It’s hard to look a mother in the eyes as she asks you to put her child through college and tell her you can’t.
What the heck do I say? How the heck do I respond? Its hard to tell people you can’t give them that kind of money as you stand there with your shiny water bottles and your fancy backpacks and your sturdy shoes. It’s hard to have people assume that just because you’re an American, you’re rich. I mean, honestly, compared to what they have, we really are. But I never would have considered myself rich before the race.
My bed this month is the thin sponge mats that we put as “top foam” on our actual mattresses in America. In a mud hut that’s illuminated with candles by night, I am gaining perspective on why the locals here are so quick to ask us for handouts. As I trek with Zulu women through the forest to fetch firewood for the week, or walk a mile down the dirt road to pump clean water from a well into a bucket so we can cook our food, wash our clothes, and stay hydrated, I realize how easily I took for granted the smallest things that are worked hard for here.
Guys, this month has not been easy. And it honestly has not really been fun. Adjusting to a new team, a new country, a new culture, and a new ministry is downright exhausting. And having to deal with the awkward and simultaneously heartbreaking moments of being asked for money or transport to America doesn’t make things any easier.
Yet Jesus has taught me three things that have allowed me to look back at this month and see it as maybe the most beautiful month yet:
The first, “How can you have My love for them if you cannot truly relate to them?”
God has allowed me this month to join the lives of the Zulu people here so that I can have deeper compassion towards them. So that I can truly understand who they are and love them the way Jesus would.
The second, “How will you truly grow if there’s no difficulty?”
More than once this month I have wished away how uncomfortable everything has been. And more than once this month my Dad has shown me that if things always stayed comfortable, I would always stay on the outskirts of refinement- not quite apart from God but not quite as close as He desires me to be. The center of difficulty, frustration, and even pain is the place I get to share in the likeness of Christ and be placed in deeper fires of refinement.
That being learned, the third thing He said to me was, “I want you here in my space- my yoke- where I carry your load and the journey is joyful and never weary.”
Refinement is not easy, and it’s not supposed to be. It took me finally having a total meltdown last week to realize that my weakness is wanted. I try so hard to be ok and not allow the hard stuff to affect me because I feel like it shows that I’m strong. And this month I’ve learned that I am not just invited, but my Father genuinely desires me to give Jesus that which I simply cannot carry. I’ve learned not to run away from the things I can’t handle, but rather run with them to my Strength. I’ve learned that sometimes God wants me to “be still” right in the middle of my mess, so that He can show me what He wants to show me from that vantage point.
Though this has been the most challenging month of the race for me, I am approaching the end of it with deep gratitude in my heart to have had the privilege to experience Zulu life, and the freedom to fall apart in the middle of it.
Please continue to carry me in your prayers! I LOVE and MISS you all.
