Today is supposed to be our rest day.
After a long six days with only a few extremely rare moments alone, I was relieved at the prospect of 24 hours free of greeting families in their homes, praying for people for hours on end, or dancing in church for the better part of the afternoon.
I want you to know I love how we get to do these things. Ministry this month looks like what I hoped it would when I was sitting in my American bedroom reading World Race blogs about life on the field. At the same time, it’s completely draining to be surrounded (literally, people grouped around me) for every moment of my day (sleep included).
When this day rolled around, I knew what I needed. Self care. Rest. Time by myself to find my thoughts and find God in the clutter of life again.
Rest day, for me, is usually a time to do the things that fill me up and allow me to operate out of overflow for the people we are serving.
It’s a time to reconnect with God in a way that the busyness of the other six days doesn’t allow.
It’s Sabbath. It’s a time to lay down the expectations of the world and find rest in God’s presence.
“And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work that he had done in creation.” Genesis? ?2:2-3?
Monday finally arrived and we headed an hour away to the nearest ATM, cyber cafe, and supermarket.
This particular rest day would look different than others, but I was looking forward to the relief that would ensue after completing the things on my now daunting to-do list. Productivity, in a strange way, is restful for me as it gives me peace of mind to check the boxes one by one.
After two hours of waiting at a village bus stop, one crowded bus ride down bumpy back roads, and numerous errands and house visits, I found myself in tears. Those salty droplets streamed down my face as I laid hands on and pretended to pray over yet another stranger. I couldn’t see Jesus. I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed space and time to be filled because I was running on spiritual and emotional fumes.
Living in Africa may be the hardest thing I’ve done so far. The people lift my spirits with their embracing love, but in general, it’s taking all of me to choose in and fight through this month.
In an effort to avoid word vomiting all the reasons this is such a challenging time, I’ll spare you every detail.
Just know this: God didn’t make us to be everything to everyone. He isn’t against boundaries, especially when it comes to rest. Jesus sent away the crowds so he could have time alone with the Father. He didn’t have to set apart one day a week for rest, but He wanted to bless his creation. The Father knew the needs of his kids.
It’s not wrong to need rest, I know. It only feels wrong when I want to say no to what clearly makes this community so happy.
I could see joy in the eyes of the families we visited today. This could be lifting them up for longer than I can foresee. Who knows, really.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. I need to set boundaries for myself, but I feel this extreme pressure to do everything that’s asked of me. And saying that – admitting that I want to please people – is admitting that I’m not putting God at the head of my whole life.
Maybe I couldn’t see him when we prayed because I’m too focused on making other people happy. Maybe it’s when I’m saying “yes” to every request that I’m actually saying “no” to being filled up by the Lord.
I actually don’t know all the answers to fix this and that scares me. I do know that Team Ronel needs your prayers. We need God’s strength to push forward and to be a reflection of Him to all the people we meet. I need His help to fight through the moments when I want to break down and cry in some stranger’s living room.
I don’t want to paint myself as a victim in this. I know there’s a way to be sustained here, and I’m simply on the journey to find out what that looks like. I have a sweet hope that I’ll find it soon.
Love and blessings,
McKenzie
