Growing up, I was a drug kid. Yes, I was drug to church every Sunday morning and every Sunday evening and every Wednesday night and every other time the doors of the church may have been open. My daddy (yes, I still call him daddy because I’m from the South and he’ll just always be my daddy) is a deacon, my mama sings in the choir, and they both have taught Sunday school. Jesus has always been made a priority in the events of my life, but not always the priority in MY life as my choice even though I grew up in church. At the age of seven, however, things changed. I was no longer drug to church – I longed to go. I no longer had Jesus made a priority in my life; I made Jesus a priority in my life. And thus it began. My walk with Jesus. Wherever He leads we go, right?
I try. I really do – to go wherever He leads. I would like to say I’ve done well at this, but I live in Mississippi. Where there’s a church on every corner. Where people like their comfy pew. Until you get older, you aren’t as much exposed to the needs of the world and that there’s people who have never heard of Jesus – much less that Jesus loves them and that Jesus DIED for them. That’s the Bible Belt for ya. Don’t get me wrong I am SO blessed and thankful to have grown up in a region where lots of people love and seek the Lord because I wouldn’t be half the person I am today without that, but sometimes it’s stale. Especially the “wherever He leads, I’ll go” part. People think they are good just chilling in the safety and comfort of their church building. Or, sometimes the funds just really aren’t there to GO… small town life.
At the age of twelve, I experienced something I’ll never forget. I was at a Centrikid camp one summer, and there was a missions emphasis on Canada. Some statistics were given on the ratio of churches to population and the percentage of people who claim to be Christians, and it was staggeringly low. I mean, I was twelve and it wasn’t difficult to blow my mind, but it still blows my mind today that there is only 1 church per 117,925 people and only about 27% of people claimed to be Christians in Canada (the current statistics according to the NAMB). I just was so overwhelmed with that as a twelve year little girl because for the first time I truly grasped the urgency of the Gospel. I love math and statistics, but you don’t even have to love numbers to realize that 70% (and I would even go a little above that figure to account for the people faking it) of our neighboring country doesn’t know Christ and that’s crazy. And it was insane to me that there were hardly any christian churches there. I am literally within 2 miles of like 10 churches when I’m sitting in my house! (I’ll attach a link in this post to statistics on population to church ratio in each US state and Canadian province if you are intrigued by stats like me). So, that’s where I felt a call to missions for the first time. It was like God was saying to me, “Maeci, you can do something about that.” In my innocence, I thought He meant Canada (and who knows, I might end up there one day), but now I realize in that moment God showed me some reality at a young age. That not everyone was blessed to grow up as I did. That not everyone had good christian mamas and daddies to drag them to church. And since that day, my heart has been so tender to missions and the commission (The Great Commission, more specifically (not to be interpreted as the Great Suggesstion, by the way)) we have as Christians to “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:19-20).
So, I’ll be real honest with you. I thought then (as an invincible, awesome little supergirl twelve year old) that answering a call to missions would be easy. Like, “No prob God I got you. I’ve sang ‘Wherever He Leads I’ll Go’ my whole life, and I got this.” And then I got kind of frustrated when, for years, God never opened a door for me to go on a mission trip or anything. I just wanted to GO… I was ready (or so I thought). Finally, last summer (2017), God opened the door for me to go. Everything fell in line for me to go to Haiti. I got so pumped up and ready and on this spiritual high. It didn’t require me to give up anything. It was easy to say yes to God’s call. I learned so much there, and I will forever hold those people in my heart. I know now though that God just wanted to get my toes in the water before He would ask me to go ahead and take a step off into the abyss of the deep end.
This year as I began school, I felt so confident. My friends were all still trying to decide where they would go to school and then there was me. That girl that has had her college picked out since 3rd grade. No big deal it’s okay. Nobody even really asked me my plans because they knew the answer: “MISSISSIPPI COLLEGE!!!! WOO-HOO!!!! GO CHOCTAWS!!!!” Then I had one conversation in Calculus class that (little did I know) would be God’s spark to set all my (emphasis on my) plans for the next year on fire and then turn all the ashes in to a flower bed where He’s already beginning to make beautiful things sprout up all over. That conversation was, of course, about the World Race. I didn’t even really know that much about it at all, and I actually researched it just to appease my curiosity. It never crossed my mind as being even a possibility because, of course, I had to go straight to MC. There was no other option. And then I couldn’t get it out of my head. God plastered it right in front of me everywhere. No big deal. But then, God did it. He gently whispered to my spirit: “Just apply.” Okay, God. That’s easy. It’s not any obligation or risk to applying. It won’t mess up my plans or anything. I got this. So, I applied. And then came the not-quite-as-easy part. The $40 application fee. I was like “God, I don’t think I’m ready for that. You know I can barely pay my gas money and senior dues. I don’t need to waste $40 on this that I’m not even going to do. Let me just pray about it.” And I did. But my prayers were more along the lines of “God, You know MC is where You’ve called me, right? There is no way I can do this whole World Race thing You keep putting in front of me.” Basically begging God to not urge me to pay the application fee because that would be a little more weighted. So, you know what He did. Yep. I was in church one night and the pastor in the middle of his sermon was like “You don’t have to have all the details figured out to step out in faith.” That got me. Okay, Lord, I hear ya. I went home that night knowing what I needed to do, but, of course, still reluctant to spend that money. So, I got on my banking app to see if I even had the $40 to pay it. Any guesses how much? 41 dollars and 46 cents. God was probably smirking and kind of laughing at me. I knew that was Him, and there was no doubt then. So, I opened my this random email to get back to my application. And that randomly selected email contained a blessing. It was an application fee waive. I kind of just a tiny bit in that moment understood what Abraham felt up on that mountain top shakily holding a knife above his only son’s head. He didn’t want to be in that situation at all, but I mean God made it clear what He wanted him to do. I wasn’t like nearly about to kill my kid or anything, but it made me see the immense faith that Abraham had and how God really does bless faith sometimes quite blatantly. And it kind of all happened from there. I had my interview and I got accepted. And I honestly struggled with “accepting my acceptance” because of having to give up so much (and I still do some days), but I know following Jesus wherever He leads is going to be way more worth it and way more awesome than any plan I ever had.
Since I was twelve and had that encounter with God about missions, I started preparing my heart for having to give up a lot to follow the call of God one day. I always imagined myself not caring about leaving behind everything I’ve ever known to follow Jesus and just being ready and doing it. And I am ready in a way, but some days it scares me to death. I feel inadequate and I feel unworthy and I feel like I’m never going to be able to raise that much money. I wonder about what if this happens or that happens. What would I do if there was a family emergency and I needed to go home? What if I get bit by a snake or get really sick? And I definitely never thought about missing luxury things, but I learned in Haiti you can miss a good, hot shower real quick. And I worry about my family… I’ve never even been gone a whole month from home. And I’m about to not see them for nine. But, then I remember what kind of God I serve. My God is greater. My God is stronger. My God is higher than any other. He is all-knowing, all-powerful, and perfect in love and wisdom. He’s known my life was going to end up here when He “knit me together in my mother’s womb” (Psalm 139). And I know, it’s okay. I can say with a smile on my face, confident of God’s (not my own) plan, “Wherever He leads, I’ll go.”
“Then Jesus told his disciples, ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” (Matthew 16:24)
“From the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” (Psalm 61:2)
“Cast all your anxieties on him because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7)
Link to population church ratios:
https://www.namb.net/Population_Church_Ratios
