I hate to say that the time has come, but it has indeed arrived. Burnout, exhaustion, and an amplified hankering for normalcy linger in my being. I’ve been feeling this way for a little while, but I think that I actually almost lost my mind today.
This afternoon, I took a twenty-minute moto ride to a nice part of the city with two of my teammates. It was beautiful and so grand in comparison to our place in the boonies. We were headed to meet a missionary doctor for a quick evaluation of throat and fever symptoms. God was so good to give us this connection at a random restaurant a few nights ago. He prescribed them some antibiotics and said that they would be in touch. He offered to drive us to a pharmacy to pick up the prescriptions. Afterward, my friends and I headed to the street corner to flag down some bikes. The young African men in green helmets and neon green vests quickly flocked to us and encircled just like normal. In the process of giving directions and negotiating a price, I took a simple step back and bumped into one of the bikes. My calf hit the exhaust pipe and immediately burned like what I described as HELL. Running straight back into the pharmacy, I explained my situation to the lady in white behind the counter. She returned a few seconds later with some flammazine lotion. I frantically applied it to the wound right then. The entire way home, my mind was battling my purpose on this trip as my leg was flaming, intensely tingling.
I began to be especially angry. It wasn’t only the burn. The burn was simply the point where the wave broke upon the shoreline, where the egg finally cracked in the tossing game. Through my irritated thought process, I began to realize all this. Then I asked the questions . . . Is this worth it? Especially here in Rwanda . . . I mean, we aren’t doing much ministry right now anyway. I want to be clean and exfoliate the five-month dirt buildup off of my body in a real shower. I want to make banana smoothies and chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. I want to drive around town by myself, blaring my music. This lack of protein and greens is making me gain weight. I desperately want to hug my family. Is it worth it? Is it worth the malaria? The lack of sleep? The long travel? The potatoes and rice? Being stared at by everyone on the planet because I am white? How about the motorcycle burn?
That stupid burn . . .
That’s really what it is . . . stupid.
God gently reminded me of His greatness and immediately reversed my thoughts as I weaved in and out of other motorbikes and off-road vehicles. I am blessed. I have been sent. This Race is definitely not easy. I knew far before launching that there would be battles to surmount and discomforts to contest. How many times must He remind me that this is onlylife on earth? How often must He assure me that He is indeed with me? How many times do I come running back to Him?
A zillion. A zillion times, I tell you.
And so, I thanked Him. I have so much to be thankful for, really. I thank Him that I have more than enough food, a tin roof over my head to shelter from the afternoon downpours, and a pack full of expensive deodorant, 12 pairs of underwear, and baby wipes. Heck, I even have money to buy ointment for my insignificant moto burn.
I am on the final chapter of the book, Not for Sale by David Batstone. There is information along with correlating stories about sex trafficking and forced child labor around the world. There are vivid examples from places I have lived and am bound to go. Most of the stories are from Romania, Moldova, Rwanda, Uganda, Thailand, Cambodia . . . and the United States. How is it that I have been reading a book of this caliber, yet am able to get caught up in my own personal comfort (or lack thereof)? Am I willing to work hard for the kingdom and live a selfless life in order that others may experience freedom from physical and spiritual bondage? I have not been living in such a manner.
He must have a reason for me to be here in Rwanda. Whether the purpose is simply to encourage believers in preaching, or to learn a lesson . . . both of these are reason enough.
I love that He can use one miniscule injury to relay the realities of life . . . the life He desires for others and myself. I can’t stay in my comfort. People would say that I am not living comfortably, but oh how I am even here in the discomfort of Rwanda! I yearn to live for things that will last. I long to store up treasures in heaven. I want to live in a state of thankfulness.
Thank you, Lord for this aching burn. Thank you furthermore for this chance to see more clearly.
Just anothersimple, extraordinary revelation of perspective.
May we continue to allow ourselves to be broken down in order that He may be lifted up.
Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day! Feeling LOVED by my Father today. Thanks also to Natalie for this glorious chocolate bar with hazelnuts that I am currently devouring. The little things in life . . .
Off to hop another moto to go preaching.
Cheers.
