Back in Lesotho I lost something very dear to me. A necklace that had been given to me by one of my best friends before I left- it had a little seashell on it to remind me to listen to the Lord when times got tough. I remember holding it in my hands one night as my teammate rubbed aloe into my very very sunburned back, and then about two days later I realized I couldn’t find it.
I searched high and low and kept an eye out the whole month, thinking it would turn up when we packed everything up and cleaned before we left. But this was not to be God’s will. Alas, I had to accept defeat and leave my beloved necklace behind in Lesotho.
Last month I had some extra time after grocery shopping and one of the interns and I decided to hit up a coffee shop called Mugg and Bean, because – cheesecake.
But as usual I got distracted en route by a shiny sparkling store called Lovisa. I thought maybe I could find a small necklace, something simple to remind me of the Lord the way my seashell had, or better maybe even find a small seashell charm. I looked but didn’t find much and after just a few minutes decided we needed to head out or there would be no time for cheesecake before our van left.
Fast forward one week. Grocery shopping is done and I’m on a mission for thank you cards when the same store catches my eye. I’m by myself this time and so I enter, taking a closer look at some of the pieces closer to the front of the store. After a minute or two of digging through some necklaces I stand up and turn around. A short, round woman is staring at me. I realize in that moment that I had forgotten my manners. I walk towards her to greet her.
“Hullo, hows it?”
“Fine thanks, and you?”
“Fine thanks”
“My name is Liz and you?”
To this day I can’t remember her name. It was one of those – hard for an American to pronounce kind of African names. She asks me what I’m looking for, and I tell her I’m looking for a necklace, something small and not too expensive. The ones sitting in front of us range from 15-20 dollars and there’s some kind of deal about getting a sterling silver necklace and earrings. I take a peek but find nothing to my liking for that price and ask if anything is cheaper. I explain that I’m on the World Race that next month we will do physical labor at an orphanage in Zimbabwe and I don’t want to be upset if it gets destroyed.
She looks at me as if for the first time she’s realizing just HOW foreign I am and asks:
“Don’t you get tired?”
“I do sometimes, but that’s when I must rely on the Lord’s strength”
I can sense that she doesn’t share my point of view and she’s still looking at me like I’m an alien out of a space ship. My training from the squatter camps kicks in. I find out that she doesn’t like her job, that she’s looking for a new one, that she’s applied but hasn’t heard back, that she doesn’t think she’s capable of doing anything other than retail. I ask if she goes to church- she doesn’t anymore. I ask if she believes in a God- she thinks a God must be out there far far away. I ask if she’s ever heard of Jesus and what she knows- it’s how some people think they get to heaven.
I’m about to share more but for a split second I pause and I hesitate. Because now I suddenly see just how foreign I’ve become.
Back where I’m from it can be considered rude to share what you believe. It’s offensive to ask people about God. It’s arrogant and ignorant to believe that you carry the truth and every other religion is wrong. In America we’re trained to keep what we believe to ourselves, because we wouldn’t want to disrupt other’s lives. We’re trained to fear the rejection of what others might think and we’ve seen how easily people can get offended over the smallest of religions nuances and differences, just look at all the different denominations that have separated us as Christians because we couldn’t agree on the small things, and we couldn’t rally around the important stuff.
The Bible calls us to speak truth IN love. But in America we often find ourselves embracing only one half of that combination. We often see or hear on the news those who speak truth but do it solely through the filter of judgement, seeking for a way to make themselves feel more righteous, because the shame they feel inside hasn’t been brought to the light and it’s so easy to see the speck in our brother’s eye before rooting out the plank in our own. Or we go the other way. We love others, we love them so much we’re petrified to say the hard things, because what if they reject us? We fully support our friends when we see them going down dark alleys, doing things we know God never had planned for them. Because it’s all about love and isn’t everyone ultimately forgiven anyway?
We’ve lost that balance, of being able to speak truth and do it out of love. Of being able to share the message of Christ without making it about the other person being wrong and us being right, and we’ve lost our ability to call our Christ following brothers higher.
And so I paused. I paused because I wasn’t technically on ministry. I paused because this wasn’t as simple as praying for a woman who already believed the same thing. I paused because I didn’t want to offend her or make her uncomfortable. I paused because I was all by myself. I paused because so often I confuse love with people pleasing.
And then a thought crossed my mind.
What if this morning she got desperate and asked God to send her a sign today to show her that He saw her and that He is real? What if what I’m about to tell her radically changes her life for the better? What if I share and she rejects it, and she moves on with her life – there’s no damage done. What if I don’t share and she ends up missing out on something big or the answer to her desperate prayer because I was too concerned about her maybe not liking what I shared?
Was not sharing worth the risk?
So I started with my testimony. I could relate to her story. I could relate to not wanting God in my life or not being sure if being a Christian was all it was chalked up to be. But God pursues us. He pursued me, and I told her- I believe He’s pursing you too. Not so you can go to heaven, sure that’s a piece of it but so that He can do life with you. So He can share every job application or moment of self doubt with you.
She didn’t say much but agreed to let me pray with her for a different job right there in that store. She let me put my hand on her arm and I prayed that God would reveal himself to her and that He would show her her true calling and bring her to a different work environment.
She thanked me for the prayer. She didn’t come to Christ or anything crazy like that, but she genuinely thanked me for taking time to talk and pray with her.
I left without a necklace that day, and my seashell might be gone. But the cool thing was – I began to realize that even without the reminder, I’m hearing God’s voice louder than ever.
