Vietnam. 1.5 months ago. December. Christmas. SAD. ATL. Struggle.
Vietnam was full of promise. Fresh off the plane from Africa. A new continent. A new people group. A new team. A new role. New opportunities. This has to be good. Right? It is going to be easier. Better! Right?
Wrong.
This was harder. Easier but harder. Lighter but darker. Quieter but louder. Joy-filled but more sad. How can that be?
Let me tell you.
I left Africa tired, and over it. It is sad to say that, because I want to be a person who loves every single moment of ministry, and never tires of it. I have these visions of loving a ministry site so much that I never want to leave it. But the reality is that ministry is work sometimes. Sometimes it is getting up early, after a night of fighting cockroaches and unidentifiable winged bugs to go to school where people treat you like a god because you have white skin (frustrating!). It is hard and emotionally exhausting. I remember thinking in that moment, “but I AM NOT GOD. Jesus is! I can’t save you. Only he can!” I felt so inadequate. “God, how can these people idolize me, when I’m just a human? Why did you bring me to minister to them if I am distracting them from you? Wouldn’t someone else be better fit for this job?” I sounded like Moses in those moments.
But the reality is no. Like Moses, God chose me to preach to those kids on that day. So in the middle of my confusion, frustration and inadequacy, I leaned on God. “God, please give me words for these kids. Help them to see you and not me.” He showed up. He gave me words to preach, and I am confident that he used those words to impact those kids as he had planned.
My last month in Africa felt like that on a daily basis. I had to lean on God, because it wasn’t survivable without Him. I needed grace for others, because I was tired and running on empty. He sustained me.
Then we got to Asia. I no longer stuck out because of my skin color. I no longer felt idolized for being white. I felt more normal here. I had a comfy bed and a warm shower. I had a new team that was funny, easy to love, and fairly drama free. I was comfortable. I started to let my hair down emotionally. So it was easier. Right?
Wrong.
It was hard in new ways. I no longer stuck out because of my skin tone. I wasn’t struggling to find comfort. But I also found myself leaving my armour at home, because I felt fine without it. I didn’t see troops lining up against me, so I didn’t think I needed it. I was wrong.
I went from having ministry partners with a schedule locked and loaded, to ATL (Ask the Lord) what he had for us that day. I went from a country where everyone was a Christian to a country where it was illegal to talk to strangers about Jesus. I went from telling people I was a missionary to speaking with caution about the reason for my being in Vietnam. I went from spending 6 days a week with pastors, to no longer having a church to attend. I went from being in my Bible for several hours a day prepping sermons to leaving it in my room because it wasn’t “safe” to leave it lying about. Cue spiritual darkness.
I went from the hot, sunny climate of Africa to cloudy, cooler, smog-ridden SE Asia. I would wake up exhausted, wondering what was wrong with me to later realize that Seasonal Affected Depression had come back full force. It was also amplified by the spiritual darkness I was encountering. Even if the air wasn’t full of darkness, it also was lacking in light. Cue SAD.
My new team and I were caught off-guard by this. We all struggled. We were all tired. Several of us felt like God was distant. We all struggled to find our footing in ministry. We all felt like our impact was negligible. We weren’t preaching, we weren’t doing door-to-door evangelism, so how were we making a difference? How were our teeny little candles of faith going to make a dent in the dark atmosphere.
But then God woke me up. He reminded me of something I learned in Africa. “Even if all I do is impact one person, then this was all worth it.” Even if all I did was encourage one person through Christ, then that was the reason I was there. I don’t have to save every person I meet. But I do need to say “yes” to God every time he asks me to move.
We dont always see the fruit, but that doesn’t mean we stop planting. We move forward, knowing that God works all things out for His glory.
God did show up in Vietnam. Here are some of the ways He showed up that he reminded me of today:
- I got to share the name of Jesus with a woman who never had heard it spoken.
- My friend Kacie showed her Bible to the workers at our hostel (they had never seen one).
- I had several faith/theology discussions with one of the guys staying at our hostel. We spent several hours sitting at the table talking about religion, God and reasons for beliefs.
- We got to celebrate Christmas in the lobby of our hostel with the workers and a new friend from Sweden.
- We ate pizza and oreos, sang Christmas carols and exchanged gifts.
I read the Christmas story aloud in a country where it is rarely uttered.
In the moment, these things felt mundane and of little consequence, but they weren’t. They were small shifts in the atmosphere. They were seeds planted.
I may have struggled to see God at work in me last month. I may have struggled to find time alone with him. But even still, He was at work. He used every single “yes.”
Even now, I write this from my rooftop in Cambodia. I’m sick for the 3rd day in a row, and had to stay back from ministry today to rest. I have been struggling to make time for Jesus, so he used my illness to make time for just Him and I. I love that about Him. I love His heart for me. In His goodness He showed me how he has been walking with me this whole time, how he was there last month, how he is here this month, and how he will continue to be here.
And the other truth is that when we say “yes” to Jesus, Satan doesn’t like it. He doesn’t sit back and ignore it. No. He sends soldiers to derail us. He wants me to doubt my impact, so that I stop making one. He wants my “yes” to turn to a “no” or a “maybe later.”
So today, as I sit at home with a sinus infection, I hear God saying “Put on my armour. Keep marching. Keep listening to my voice. We are in this together.” I may be tired. I may not see the impact I am making. But I am going to say “yes,” because it is worth it. Jesus would have died for just 1 person, so I will say “yes” even if it is for only 1.
As you walk through your day, I hope you are encouraged by this. You might not know your impact, but you are making one. You might not feel like Christ is beside you, but He always is. You may question if your prayers are being heard, but I promise they aren’t ignored. I have felt the ones you’ve made for me across the globe. We may not see the fruit, but let’s continue to plant the seeds.
I love you all.
From Asia,
Liesl
