I came into Africa with such high hopes. Such huge expectations. While I knew that expectations were not supposed to be in my head, there they were, mocking me and chipping away at my confidence. I love a God who is good – better than I ever could dream up – but he owes me nothing. He doesn’t have to (and won’t) succumb to my expectations and demands. He’s beyond my thoughts, my grasp and my understanding. And despite myself, I find that it’s a very, very good thing.
Still, I thought, “Three months on this continent? God is going to do something monumental in my life.” It was easy to think, easy to believe and easy to expect.
When I was in Tanzania, I wrote a blog about the paradox of faith. I’m learning to expect that my Father will show up and does show up… but it doesn’t always happen like I think that it should.
We leave this continent soon – the countdown is in hours rather than weeks now – and I find myself wondering what I’ve learned here.
Three months. Four different countries spanned over the course of twelve weeks. I have spent nearly half of my time on the Race thus far here in Africa, and it sometimes seems like a dream.
So much has happened here.
In three short months I have: rafted the Nile, seen wild animals [heck, I’ve fed wild animals], been squished with 19 other people in a van that should hold 12, prayed with people, preached the gospel, shared my testimony, brought street kids to lunch, seen people healed, laughed until I’ve cried, emotionally eaten and shopped, had a lizard fall on my face, woken up sweating, sang over children, cried until I couldn’t breathe, added people to my team, been chastised, swam in Lake Victoria, hiked to see water falls, thrown up, gotten so dirty people think I’m tan, seen people accept the gospel, learned to pursue my brothers well (or at least, better), felt abandoned and misunderstood, joined in the dancing and singing, fought with God, and fallen in love with Jesus more than ever.
Despite all that happened, little of it was what I thought was going to happen. These months have looked nothing like I thought that they would.
And I’ve come to realize that it’s okay. It took me three long months to come to that conclusion and sometimes in the moment I didn’t see it, but here I am on the other side, declaring that it’s true. It’s okay.
- It’s okay that I haven’t seen something mind-blowing (by my frail human standards).
- It’s okay that I didn’t see someone come back from the dead or have a limb re-grow before my eyes.
- It’s okay that I get frustrated sometimes and that I don’t understand the way that God works.
I’ve been reminded of the last sermon I heard before I left America. It was on September 4, 2011 in Roseville MN. It was about healing and how God shows up in miraculous ways. Funny (definitely not a coincidence) that it was the last thing I heard in the States. In my journal I wrote, “It's a World Race kind of sermon! Lord, you are hysterical. This? Today? You’re too good.”
My pastor said something that I’ve only just begun to truly realize and believe.
He posed the question:
“Does not being healed ruin God’s reputation or nullify his power?”
The answer? A resounding NO.
It’s been like a metaphorical 2×4 to the face. And I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.
My God is good. My Abba is faithful. My Papa is sovereign.
Even when he doesn’t physically heal people before my eyes.
He has a plan, for me, for Africa, and for this Earth; I’ll never comprehend it. My favorite part is that he doesn’t ask me to comprehend it, he doesn’t ask me to understand it. He has simply asked me to obey him. To love him, and to follow where he leads.
Even if it means three of the hardest months of my life.
So here I am, in Kampala, Uganda, waiting to board a plane to Bangkok on Tuesday. I have four months in Asia left and more than ever, I’m excited to serve my Jesus.
2 Corinthians 4 says, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed…Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day…So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
Africa has been rough, but God is good, and he always will be.
