If I could sum up my time spent in Honduras it would simply be put in two words: beautiful brokenness. In week one, I prayed and asked the Lord what was in store for this month ahead and the word that He gently whispered was, “brokenness.”
I can honestly say I long for brokenness because it’s in brokenness that my strength alone can come from Him and it’s in brokenness that I am reminded not of who I am, but who my God is.
It’s in brokenness where my heart is at peace that He’s in control and not me.
It’s in brokenness that I am handled carefully in the hands of my maker.
It’s in brokenness that fruit that remains has the potential to bear itself with good stewardship of what is put before me.
After all, isn’t that a huge part of the reason I chose to do the world race? To come to the end of myself and to ultimately grow and be stretched in my relationship with the Lord; meanwhile, making a difference in the kingdom.
Truthfully, I was looking forward to the brokenness; however, reminded every day that just because the outcome is great, doesn’t mean the process in the midst is easy. But what a faithful God to pull me through things that will only make me stronger and experience more of Him and less of me. Trusting Him, I partnered on this path of surrender and sacrifice His hand was guiding me down. Everyday appeared to be a stripping off of things that have held me back, whether I realized it or not.
It started with a bad Internet day, which allowed for little communication with my family after not speaking to them for 2 weeks. As my teammates continued on about how they were able talk with so much family and get so much done, I sat in frustration thinking nothing about how awesome that was for them, but how incredibly unfortunate it was that I didn’t have the chance to do the same. That night, we met for team time. I shared with them how my day went and how I let if effect me in such a powerful way. I sat there and balled in the arms of my team just broken before the Lord, with little to any joy, zero ounces of strength, and a heart that hurt.
It then continued with one of our days at the hospital to pray for people. This was something that we did for 2 weeks. Everyday we walked around being obedient to the pulling in our hearts to pray for certain people. Surrounded by broken legs, arms, people in wheel chairs, kids with unknown diseases, and so much more, we walked in believing in the healing touch of God to perform miracles. Miracles isn’t something new to me, neither is healing.
In fact, I have probably seen more people healed instantly because of prayer, than I have seen not healed. However, these weeks were different. Prayer after prayer, word after word, faith after faith, laying hands on people and declaring God’s healing power, we did not see any instantaneous miracles. I understand I am no man to question God, but in these moments, I was broken.
Not because I wanted to see the miracle, not because I wanted all to know we prayed for them, not to bring praise to me, but only because the 11 year old boy, whom didn’t have parents to comfort him was crying right before my eyes in anguish pain due to surgery he just had. I wanted to see the tears stop, the grimace leave, and the pain to no longer have a place in this boy’s life. However, this didn’t happen.
I was reminded that God is God and He is faithful and His timing and plan is perfect. There was nothing in that moment that I could’ve done any differently on my own to take away what the boy was feeling, but it isn’t my job to be the fixer like I often find myself trying to do.
Our team had to leave earlier than all the other teams in the morning because of travel to the hospital. Because of this, for a couple of days I decided to leave my toiletry bag, which contained so much and by far my heaviest bag in my pack, hanging on the door so I wouldn’t wake up my friend who was sleeping in my tent.
Well, one day I went to the bathroom and it was no where to be found. My whole toiletry bag had been snatched. So many things in it I used on a daily basis if not more than once a day. What was I going to do without it? Well, I had to call on others to help me out. In this moment, I felt defiled and invaded. Someone stole from me.
The next day, I asked my friend if she still had my favorite flip flops and she told me she set them by my tent a couple weeks ago. So I go by my tent to find nothing. Little by little my pack is losing weight, which is great for travel days, but not so great when you “need” those things. I was so broken in this moment in being reminded that Jesus is all I truly need.
A couple days later the Lord told me to get rid of more stuff from my pack, which wasn’t too difficult considering every ounce I have I feel to a great extent on my pack when we travel. So I started filtering through clothes, throwing things out. I was surprised how easy this was for me based upon how difficult it was for me to pack. This was all easy, until afterwards I went to take a shower and had a simple, profound conversation with God that sounded a little like this.
God – “Give your make up bag away.”
Me – “Why? I only wear make up like once a week, if that?”
God – “Give your make up bag away.”
Me – “But God, it has new make up in it. How about I don’t wear it, but I’ll just keep it for after the race.”
God – “Give your make up bag away. Remove the option and the temptation.”
Me – “Can I mail it back home?”
God – “No. Give it away. There is importance in the act of giving it away.”
Me – “I really don’t want to, but God I will. Can you just tell me why? I hardly even wear it.”
God – “Natalie, it’s not the make up itself. It’s the fact that you think you’re more beautiful when you do have it on and I want to teach you true beauty. No more make up for the rest of the race.”
So that night, I told a couple of people that I needed to give it away, but wasn’t quite sure to who. The next morning, I woke up so ready to give it away. I told a friend about it, who ended up needing make up, and then kept reminding her to come get it. I couldn't get rid of it any faster. It was almost I was just so sick of having it. When I did it, I couldn’t believe how sad I felt. I couldn’t believe how resistant I was in the first place to God about doing it either. Obviously, if I didn’t want to that bad, I needed to. I gave it away, all of it, every single thing, even the bag. I wish I could say I felt so much freedom after doing so, but I didn’t I felt empty, I felt broken, but had so much peace that my obedience to Him would be honored and because of it, only good results were to come. I went to church the next day, which is when I previously had been putting make up on. I would be lying if I said I felt completely beautiful without it; however, I can't wait for the day, soon to come, where I know the true beauty of Christ that resides from within.
I can truly say to you today that although Honduras was a month of brokenness, it was by far one of my favorite places I have ever been to, if not my favorite. God showed up, maybe not in the ways that I anticipated, but in ways that He knows I needed.
I learned to trust Him and the work that He is doing, not me.
I learned that His ways and thoughts are truly so much higher than mine.
I learned that the Lord loves me enough to take me through the seasons of refinement, not so that I am crushed, but so that I can walk in greater freedoms that I potentially haven’t experienced before.
What a great and loving God that we serve.
All month I couldn’t help but to see myself as the olive that goes through the crushing in order to make a much more effective and pleasant oil that can be used for so many different things. I see how brokenness is a beautiful thing. It’s something that enables us to acknowledge God as God and us as his vessels serving Him for a greater cause.
I can’t help but to acknowledge that I am not the only one that goes through brokenness. It can be served daily, in seasons, cycles, and whenever the Lord determines. It’s not necessarily a matter of it, but when. My question to you and also myself is how will you steward the brokenness that comes your way? Ultimately, at the end of the day, it’s up to you. It can produce good fruit, or it can produce bad fruit. You can thank God for the willingness to help you grow or you can blame Him because life’s too rough. I encourage you to have persistence, endurance, and a heart that seeks Him even in the hard times. Press into what He is speaking through circumstances and in your everyday life; for He is always speaking.
