We've only been in Haiti for about a week and already God is showing and teaching me so much. I want so much to tell you about the ministry I'm working with here, about the awesome family that my team is blessed to live with this month and the truly amazing things they're doing in this country. I want to show you pictures of the beautiful house that I'm living in on the Caribbean ocean and tell you all about the ridiculously long fence along the shoreline that I've been painting for days with no sign of relief. I want to show you pictures of me covered in paint, wearing the same clothes day after day. I want to tell you about the child I held in church last Sunday, about the fact that he didn't have pants and that he couldn't walk on his own not because he didn't know how, but because his last meal was most likely days ago with not enough nutrients to keep his eyes open let alone his legs strong enough to stand on. I want to tell you about my team, about the fish I caught with my bare hands, and how I ride on top of trucks going 50 MPH.
But instead, God is whispering something else to my soul right now. A faint yet clear whisper of my lack of trust in Him and His goodness. Let me tell you, when you're hanging on a fence for 7 or 8 hours a day staring at the ocean, listening to the waves rolling behind you, God is bound to speak to you. At first I didn't want to listen. I would distract myself with music, with silly conversations, or other thoughts completely. And yet, the more I did that the more distant I felt from my Father. I would pray, but for other people. I didn't want to let my thoughts go to where God wanted them to, I didn't want the mirror turned on me, having to face what I know God has been speaking to me for a long, long time. And yet, when I got to Haiti God told me it was going to be a month of healing. At the time, I thought that was for other people. People on my team, people we would minister to. But I'm starting to realize the obvious healing I need to allow God to work in my life, too.
I mentioned in previous blogs that I was able to run almost every morning in the Dominican Republic. This was such a blessing, waking up and working my body in a way I've come to love. Towards the end of our month there things got busy and between traveling to Haiti and getting settled in our ministry, almost a week had gone by and I hadn't run a single time. Early one morning I dragged myself out of bed with my teammate Kate, determined to get back into the routine. Oh my goodness, was it ever hard! It felt like starting over from the DR. My body wasn't used to the heat or the rocks that slipped out from under my feet, starkly different than the smooth and flat track I ran around last month. Every step was a challenge and staying balanced on the loose rock and gravel worked muscles I didn't even knew I had. I had to dodge big rocks and my ankles felt weak and unsure running on the uneven ground. I wanted to give up. The distance around the path was new and weird and I couldn't get a good rhythm or set the right pace. I ran for what seemed like forever (when in actuality, was about 10 minutes) and walked out of desperation and exhaustion. My body ached and I was so frustrated. It had only been a week since I ran, and yet running on this ground was so different than anything I've ever run on before. "I'm not doing this again," I thought.
And yet, the next morning at 6:15, there I was again staring at the path, this time with my teammate Ken, dreading what I was about to put my body through. I seriously contemplated untying my shoes and going back to sleep. I was already sweating and I hadn't even moved. But I tried again and it hurt just as bad, maybe worse, as my body ached even more from my sad attempt at running the day before. We made it around the path a couple of times huffing and puffing and Ken went to run a different route. "I'm going ahead," I said, running maybe 30 more feet before giving up and walking back toward the house, my head down cursing the rocks beneath my feet and my body that just wouldn't do what I wanted it to. Walking away, I glanced over my shoulder at the fence we had been painting all week and in front of me was the most beautiful sunrise I've ever seen, the rising sun glowing around rolling clouds over the Caribbean. My already shallow breath was taken away as I stared at the beauty surrounding me, thinking that the entire time I was running, falling, aching, and cursing that this calmness was surrounding me, shouting to me to stop and notice, and all I did was plow right on by with my head down.
I stood and watched the sunrise for a long time that morning, taking in the Lord for the first time since I'd gotten to Haiti, realizing how much I'd been walking on my own in the previous days, how shut off my heart had been to Him, and really, how scared I've been for a long time to trust Him with this season of my life. Don't get me wrong, I love the Race, I love what God is doing in my heart and in my life and how He is changing me, but I'm also fighting fear literally every day over these changes. They weren't what I expected. I'm scared about what life will looks like post-race, where I'll be and what I'll be doing. I'm scared about the fact that I have no choice but to surrender those things if I want to truly enjoy where He has me right now. I'm scared about my heart's desires… Will they ever come into fruition? Why can't I just trust in God's goodness and want nothing else for my life other than what He wants for me? It's not just the rocky ground of our ministry site that I don't like or trust or right now, but these days I've been so consumed with the unknown of where God has me, why I'm here, and where I'm going that I don't trust the One who created me.
I want so badly to say that I'm healed! I'm cured! I trust God all of the time, every second of the day! But that would be lying, because I don't. God is working this process through me… Breaking me, actually, in the best way possible. I'm not there yet, in that place of complete dependence and trust, and maybe I never will be. But my heart is softening and I'm seeing the Lord and His goodness in new ways every day, learning how to trust Him one step at a time. Since that morning God has been speaking to me so clearly about my lack of trust in Him and the control I struggle to surrender. He gave me these words after a couple of morning runs and I wrote them in my journal, holding tight to His promises.
"Child, in Me, you have all that you need. I know the culmination of all of your hopes and dreams. My Love, I created you! I knit you together in your mother's womb. I know each thought in your head and longing in your heart. I am the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, who is and was and is to come and I long for you to give Me your fears. You walk so often on your own, giving up when things get hard because in those moment it's easier to walk slowly away from Me than to trust Me enough to run on the shaky and rocky ground below you. But you must remember that while the ground may seem rocky, that it's coming out from under you with every step that you take, that really My Love, it's the most solid ground you could ever run on. Trust Me. You must let go of having to know or be comfortable with the terrain and environment and run on blind faith that I Am below you, guiding every move, and 10 steps ahead of you, preparing the path. Trust me. Your muscles ache right now, because they aren't used to working like this, and you're sick every time you finish. But Beloved, the aching leads to strengthening and the sickness passes quickly and the result is greater trust in Me, your Abba Father, and the path I Am leading you on and the plans I Am preparing in advance for you to do. Right now, this route is uncomfortable and tiring and sometimes you want to give up… Sometimes you want to walk slowly on your own. But I Am calling you to trust Me enough to run the race I have set before you with your head held high, not looking at the ground unsure, but trusting me enough to take in your surroundings, to let each blessing on this race called life hit you full on. Take Me in each moment of your day and trust that what I have for you is good, is beautiful, and exactly what you want and need. Child, just run with Me! On every rocky and slippery road, through every valley and up every mountain no matter how steep. Trust that what I'm leading you to is good, but remember that I never promised that the journey would be easy. When you feel yourself growing weary, when your muscles ache and your ankles are weak, do not give up, my Love. Press into me more and more and taste and see that I Am good."
