I often say in ministry that God uses every moment. He is not limited by time. It’s incredible how often we can say something, think we understand it and believe it and find we aren’t actually applying it to our own lives.
Month 3 hasn’t been easy for me. I found myself leaving argentina with the heaviest heart. I have been fighting with God about his timing, his plan, his purpose for me in spending just a month in each place. These are not new struggles, either. I fight with God over these things back at home, and I certainly struggled with choosing multiple short term mission trips over one long one. My entire career in Austin was centered around building relationships with my students, clients, social justice organizations, and truly investing in those who are disadvantaged in my city.
So how much could happen in a month of ministry? I knew in my head that compared to my life, one month isn’t much. How much can one person do in a month? How much impact could I truly have on a community or person in four weeks? Or them on me? But thats not the right question. Because if it were up to me I could spend my life toiling in the same place, working to achieve my own goals in my own way and in my own time and it might be fruitless. That’s because I was never meant to do the work alone. I was not meant to carry the burden of developing the worlds hearts, minds and souls. That is God’s job. It is his work. His plan. His timing. It’s in his control and his way is better than mine. He graciously invites me in to partner with him in his work, even though he doesn’t need me and I mess up. I mess up alllllll the time, everyday. But every morning that I wake up and take a breath he tells me we’re going to work together again. That he wants me to be part of what he’s doing in Montero, Bolivia, or Mendoza, Argentina, or Santiago, Chile. Most mornings it’s easy for me to say LEGGO. But lately it hasn’t been easy.
I had a particularly hard day on Saturday. I wanted to guard my heart. I wanted to protect it from another awful goodbye. Another tear filled moment where I say I’ll see you again but know I probably won’t. I didn’t even want to engage in ministry because really, what impact could one day have on someone? Isn’t it worse for me to engage, get to know a person, have to leave them, and most likely to never see them again? After ministry I cut up some watermelon and sat down at our kitchen table in an attempt to isolate myself from anymore MINISTRY. Hermana Maria, one of the leaders of the children’s ministry at our current church walked up and sat down with me along one of her youth group participants, Paola. Paola is in the English class I teach on weekday afternoons. She is 15 and extremely timid but wears a smile whenever we interact. I started talking with Maria about rest and how its easy to forgo rest when you are dedicated to serving the church. Maria mentioned that she doesn’t have a restful home life because she lives in a house with 30 family members, more or less. She ended up confiding in us and shared her very complicated and tragic family life with us. I had no idea a woman as joyful and strong as her (also she is only 18… WHAT?) could have walked/still be walking through a situation like that. After she shared we asked Paola to tell us about herself and she began to cry. Marias story had clearly impacted her. She started to talk about her own family’s struggles and what it is like being the oldest child of parents treat her like anything but their own daughter. She has walked through things I wouldn’t wish on anyone and she’s only 15. After she shared she told us that she had never told anyone her story. She said she had shared it with the Lord and tried to take it all to him but had never out loud told anyone what was going on or what had happened in her home. And she breathed, having finally let down a wall she had built to protect herself. And God gently reminded me, “See? I can use a half hour. I could use one second. And I can use you whether or not you are willing.”
I remembered the first time I shared my story. I could never forget it. The first time I truly shared my own brokenness and the broken parts of my past. There are some things I had never shared with anyone until coming on the race. Things I didn’t think I needed to share or things I hadn’t even realized were there. And I found so much freedom in sharing. There is so much freedom in letting a trusted person into your life and into your mess. The devil wants us to remain isolated in our pain. He is so much more powerful when we refuse to burden others with our issues. He tells us that our mess is too much for others, and that its definitely too much for Jesus. But hallelujah it is NOT. Jesus walked into his death on the cross with my name in mind, knowing that I would struggle everyday to be like him. Knowing that i would doubt him and run from him and tell him he’s wrong. And he still went.
Moments matter. I matter. You matter. Your story matters. God is so good and big and wonderful and beautiful and I will definitely forget that as the day goes by but it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t change who he is and it doesn’t change how he feels about me. That was a really long sentence and I hate long sentences. I don’t want to change it though. Thanks for reading, friend. Peace peace peace and blessings be with you, and Merry Christmas from a very hot and humid Bolivia.
