(Thank you for the most accurate photo taken of me on the race so far, Candy)
Dear readers,
Today I was going to post a blog full of happy thoughts and joyful memories. Don’t worry, it’s still coming. Instead I’m going to be honest. Today I’m giving up.
I haven’t wanted to admit how defeated I feel because that would mean I’m letting you all down. The people who believe in me, who have supported me in prayer and finances the last 6 months. If you look at my instagram or facebook, it looks like I’m living a dream- traveling around the world, trying all sorts of global coffee, finding joy in ministering to people around the world. But here’s the truth. This is exhausting. And most of the coffee in those pictures? It’s instant.
One thing I’ve learned, friends, is you shouldn’t compare your bloopers to someone else’s highlight real.
Yes, I love people. I love getting to tell everyone I meet about real honest love. I love finding mango stands and watching African rain storms. I love when the Lord teaches me something new about the world. I love that I’m on the race.
But also, I’m having a difficult time. I don’t like being sick. Again. I don’t like discovering there is nothing I can eat. Again. I don’t like that alone time looks like putting in headphones in a room full of people (and sometimes not getting the point across). I’m discouraged from incessant heat and always smelling a little off.
Yesterday in the village a man was asking for prayer. I told him we would indeed pray for him, but the importance of knowing he could- and should- pray himself as well. He told us he has never seen Jesus, but he met us and that’s the closest he was going to get. He said we were prophets of the Lord and our prayers were more important and powerful than his because we had more faith. Despite our attempts at explaining the truth about our humanness, faith, and the Holy Spirit, he still believed these things even when we left. My heart still aches.
I couldn’t convey the truth to this man, or the group around him. I remember thinking, sir, I don’t even want to be here. If you knew the complaints happening in my mind right now… And the whirlwind of doubts that came racing afterwards led me to question my effectiveness of being on the race at all. Of effectively serving the Lord at all.
A few months ago the idea of staying in a tent in the middle of a Ghanean village might have stirred my heart of adventure. A few hours ago this news brought me to the end of myself.
I have nothing left.
So for the next week I’m going to be on the most exciting adventure of all. Seeing how on earth the Lord is going to use me because there’s not a chance any of the ministry will be coming from myself.
I’m asking for especially emphatic prayers this week. Please pray for strength, for boldness, and for kindness. I’m already looking forward to updating you all on how God worked despite myself.
God is good, and I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I can’t count how many times I’ve been in this place, of being completely empty and not knowing where my next smile is going to come from. I also can’t count the number of times the Lord has ever left me in those moments because it’s never happened. He promises endless joy, which doesn’t necessarily mean always being happy. It means having hope that this isn’t the end all be all. I don’t have to be happy or particularly enjoy where I am. All I can do is be faithful in trusting that God can still use me. I’m so thankful he operates beyond my own human fickleness. When I’m in a sick bed, angry, crying, or a combination of all three, he chooses me.
It’s okay to not be okay because he chooses you, too.
I love you all to the ends of the earth.
P.S. Encouraging notes accepted in all their forms.
