Sorry there’s no pictures, when we get a faster connection I will post some.
In Mozambique we worked with the ministry Africa on Fire. The ministry has a plot of land given to them by the government and they are building up orphanages, a church, and planning a farm, a primary school, a bible college, and a clinic. It will become a community center where people can turn for educational, spiritual, and physical need. It was really cool to help in the construction for such a monumental project and to work with it in its beginning stages. So far one of the orphan houses is built as well as the church. We helped build one of the missionaries houses and then would preach at the church, lead bible studies and go on outreaches to small villages.
During the women’s bible study, one of the Brazilian missionaries was speaking about putting on a new self in Christ, being clothed in Christ and it made me think back, at what point did I become the Sarah that is currently typing this letter? Was it when God transformed my heart in Mexico? Was it when I went to training camp for the World Race? Was it when I stepped on my international flight going to Bangkok, Thailand in January? I am no longer the girl who went to Mexico or the girl who started this race. I am no longer the girl preaching in Malaysia or the one teaching in India. I’m not the rooftop singer in Nepal, or the surf instructor in South Africa. This morning my plans were thrown into the wind and I wasn’t phased in the least; a response which wasn’t delivered when my plans were changed two weeks ago.
It’s as if I’m running through a forest that has been built up between God and me. That I’ve let all these things come between us and the thicker the forest became, the less willing I was to brave the journey through it. When I signed up, I began walking through the forest I built; walking through the trees and pushing aside the brush, but very careful of the thorns. I got to training camp and began walking faster. Climbed on that plane and began to jog, but still careful of not getting scratched or hurt. But it still wasn’t fast enough. Throughout the race I’ve started picking up my pace, less and less concerned about the thorns and more and more focused at what’s at stake. Recently, I have come to a full out sprint and I’ve realized that as I’m running, as the thorns cut into me, the hurt, the heartache, the disappointment, all the baggage of this world is flowing out of me. As the blood flows out I feel more free, I feel faster and more determined than before. With each new cut my feet feel lighter, with each tear in my skin the weight of this world is lessened and the deeper the thorns cut the more I fight and the less pain I feel. Until there’s finally enough light to see that it’s not my flesh being cut, that the blood flowing down my arms is not my own but I’ve been clothed in Christ. That it is His blood being spilt because of the thorns I created and yet He is driving me forward, moving my feet, giving me the strength to push harder faster. Telling me not to stop, not to avoid the thorns, but graciously taking each cut, each injury without hesitation, without flinching, without complaint. And He is calling me to push harder still, to run with unstoppable determination towards the edge of the forest which is still far ahead. I hope it never stops. I pray I never reach a point that is close enough or let this world tell me that the brush is too thick or that Christ as my clothing isn’t adequate enough. I hope I have a determination to fight for the rest of my life, until I stand on the other side of this forest in the presence of my King.
