I’m in a desert here in Thailand.
The trees are green and the jungle is teeming with life, but I feel like I’ve been trudging through hot, dry sand since we settled into life here on the Thai-Burma border.
Growing up in the church, I always thought that we could only hear from God in three ways: through His Word, through circumstances, and through other people. Since I have come on the Race I have learned that He speaks in many more ways that I ever imagined. Month one in India the Lord taught me how to listen to His voice when He speaks directly to my spirit. The Holy Spirit gave me words for other people and I had dreams and visions revealing more of His character. He spoke through memories and experiences, both good and bad. He spoke through me as I shared the gospel and He always softly reminded me of my worth.
In month two I began to become distracted. Whether it was because of relationships at home or just normal adjustments to living life abroad, the Father’s voice grew more and more faint. In Nepal I experienced God in new ways and He taught me some valuable lessons, but one day I found myself standing in the middle of the desert wondering how I got there. Early this month we flew to Thailand and began ministry here in this beautiful country, and I thought the change in scenery would kickstart my spirit and I would be able to hear the Lord again.
I searched my heart and my intentions thinking I had done something terrible to disappoint the Father. Why would He punish me like this? He used to speak so clearly. What did I do exactly to break the connection, and how do I get back to the place I was?
One night here in Thailand I was struggling to fall asleep because I was so troubled by the silence. I climbed out of my mosquito net, put my headlamp on my head, and marched out of the village to the edge of the jungle. I sat on a bamboo bench and began praying out loud begging God to speak to me again. As the moon skated across the sky and tears rolled down my cheeks I desperately longed to know the Father’s love again. I felt like David in the 27th Psalm.
“Hear, O LORD, when I cry aloud;
be gracious to me and answer me!
You have said, ‘Seek my face.’
My heart says to you, ‘Your face, LORD, do I seek.’
Hide not your face from me.
Turn not your servant away in anger, O you who have been my help.
Cast me not off; forsake me not, O God of my salvation!”
Ps 27.7-9
I remembered something my youth pastor always says to me:
If you ever doubt that the Father loves you, just look at the cross.
I was overcome with the goodness of the Father and His mercy. I immediately realized that I was basing my effectiveness for the kingdom on how much I felt loved when in reality, Jesus sacrificed Himself to give us the freedom and power to walk in the knowledge that I am loved. I realized that in the pursuit of new experiences, I had forgotten the lessons He had been teaching me for years. I looked at my desert and saw hints of life: the way He drew me to a quiet place to pursue my heart, the way He encouraged me with words from my mentor, the way He reminded my heart of Scripture. His fingerprints were all over these desert sands and I hadn’t even noticed! I decided to set aside the next day to fast, pray, and seek out the Lord because I knew He was seeking me.
As the sun rose over the mountains, I woke up to the symphony of the neighbor’s piglets grunting hungrily, the roosters competing for the affections of the village hens, and the steady beat of rain on our tin roof. I rolled off my sleeping pad, grabbed by Bible and journal, and set up my hammock in a dry place. My English and Geography classes that I teach as a part of ministry were not until later in the afternoon, so I wanted to use the morning time to refresh my soul. I opened His Word like I have every day, but this time was different: I was looking for more of those fingerprints. I was “feasting on the Word” as my friend back home would say, but I still had yet to hear a definitive word from the Lord. My eyes rose from the Bible in my hands and I noticed it…
The rain had been steadily falling all morning. Anyone who knows me well knows that I love rain. It soothes me and it also reminds me of the Lord’s goodness. It rains almost every night here, but this was the only time it had rained during the day. Just looking at the rain reminded me that the Father loved me and I’m convinced He sent those rain clouds to remind me of that very fact.
I am still in this desert. My journal is full of prayers to the Lord asking Him to speak to me. I have been praying for Him to lead me through the desert, but I think He wants to do something even more miraculous. He sent me rain to water this desert and cultivate something beautiful out of this barren place.
To seek refuge in the safety of the trees is to deny the power of the Father to be our refuge in any circumstance.
He is breathing life back into my soul and He is teaching me new ways to grow in deeper intimacy with Him with every waking hour.
I am choosing to celebrate this season because my Father loves me enough to see me even in the midst of these desert sands.
He is sending me rain.
