As I read stories of healings, salvations, miracles, and things that I didn’t see in my day-to-day life, a common theme among bloggers seemed to occur, all at different countries and different times, in different ways among different circumstances.
It was the blog when each person would inevitably say, “I’ve heard about this since Training Camp, but I didn’t really understand it until now. But now, I understand, because somehow this month, I finally got it.”
These blogs were always so intriguing to me. “What is ‘it’?” I would wonder. I would continue to read, each blogger describing “it” in a different way, somehow always feeling in the end that the differing examples and descriptions added up to the same definition as the bloggers before had described, though it didn’t make sense in my head.
“One day, I hope I ‘get it’, even though I have no idea what ‘it’ is.”
I think it happened when, after a sleepless night, I pulled my bone-weary body up at 5:30am to go running. I’m a new runner, and I’m not the most diligent of enthusiasts, but I have truly come to love the feel of the wind on my face, the burning in my calves, and the resolve to keep pace with the beat of my iPod playlist. Most of all, when I awake early in the morning to run, I feel so close to God. This month, we are staying in the middle of nowheresville, living in a Youth With A Mission compound about a mile away from the nearest paved road. The greatest thing about living on a dirt road in a small village is that the hustle and bustle of busy traffic seems a world away, and the breathtaking glory of the mountains here seems so much more wild and free.
I tie the laces of my running shoes, fit exactly for medium-arched overpronators like me, and cut through the darkness of impending morning. Reaching the road, I turn on my iPod and muscles, beginning to run towards the mountain, the angsty wails of Just Surrender and Yellowcard propelling me onward.
After two and a half miles, I’m spent. And lost. I have no idea where I am, since these roads twist and break more times than I can count. All that keeps me going is the thought of reaching the mountain, since I determined it would be my goal for the day. However, after my playlist is as finished as I feel, I’m beginning to see how deceiving the distance of “super close” mountains can be. So with the final chords of my favorite Rocket Summer song, I begin to walk, cooling down from the run, but still heading in the direction of the mountain.
As I come nearer and nearer, I realize I’m no longer on a main road, but a windy, dirt path headed straight to a ramshackled, mud-brick home. Lifting my head, I see a woman standing on the top of the hill at the end of the road, waving at me in a very friendly manner. Her home is on the base of the mountain. Score. I feel like I could be done for the day.
But God has other plans.
I walk up to her as the sun peeks it’s face from behind the mountain, spilling a warm glow over us as we introduce ourselves.
“Salaama”, I greet her, and she responds the same. She eagerly extends her hand and I grasp it.
“Where are you from?” She asks in very accented English. I’m surprised that someone this far in the boondocks can speak English, since most of the people I’ve passed this morning are so remote that their smiles and head nods affirm to me that they only speak Swahili or other tribal languages.
“America.” I respond, and her excitement to have an American visitor warms me deeply. Her husband walks through the doorless frame, obviously speaking no English, but smiling in a very welcoming way. He shakes my hand and greets me in Swahili.
She pulls up a stool for me to sit on. “I am fortunate to have a visitor from far away! Karibu! You are welcome.” I smile and sit.
If you’re still with me, this is where ‘it’ comes into play. I look at this woman, and a desire burns deep within me. She doesn’t know English very well, and communicating with her on a deep level will probably create more problems than it will solve. On top of this, all of our neighbors in this area are Islamic, most committed deeply to their faith. The chances that I can connect with her in a deep way at all are slim to none.
The desire continues to burn.
It’s not 7am yet, I’m dogged out, and I’m not “on the clock” in ministry terms. I’m sitting on a little wooden stool in the shadow of the mountain I wanted to reach. My goal for the day is done.
Or is it?
“Do you believe in Jesus?” I asked her. She looked at me strangely. I continued, “Do you believe in God? What do you believe?”
After circling her head for a long time, she said, “Yes, I believe in the God.”
“Jesus is God.” I told her, “And He’s sent me here to Tanzania to tell you that.”
She didn’t seem to completely understand, but I know the Holy Spirit was moving on us, because she began to open up.
“I know the God is over everything, but my life is so hard. I must work in the forest to burn wood and make coal every day. My husband he cannot work, and I come here after being very sick, but I must work or we have no food or water. It is such hard work and life is so hard. It is so hard, sister.” Her emotions begin to show in her eyes as she deeply delves into the hardships of her life with a foreigner she has known all but three minutes. I realize that God has brought me here to listen to her. I think I’ve always been good at listening to the pains of others in the name of Jesus. What I haven’t been so good at is speaking to them in the name of Jesus.
So I listen. Then I speak.
“Jesus sees you. He knows you are working hard and that life is difficult. He loves you, and if you pray to Him, believe in Him, and follow Him, He will bless you.”
She looked at me with knitted brows, more from thinking than not understanding.
“The God will take care of me, I know. I believe this is true what you are saying.” Dornata replies.
We speak more about God, though communication is hard. I feel the screaming in my heart begin to find peace as I share about Jesus and His love for us.
Before I leave, I ask if I can pray a blessing over her house in Jesus’ name.
“Yes, pray for us, please.” She sincerely asked. She and her husband bowed their heads as I asked Jesus to be near them, to reveal His truth in their lives, and to see their needs and meet them. I felt the Spirit moving as I prayed. When I was finished, she held my hand and walked me to the end of the road.
“I would like to come and visit you again, and explain to you more about God. Would you like that?” I asked her.
Rapidly nodding her head, she said, “I want to know about the God. Tell me when you visit me again.”
With that, I began trying to retrace my steps back to home and breakfast, but the glory of God was so strong in my heart, I couldn’t help but pray and worship all the way back.
So, this is ‘it’, as far as I can find the words to describe it.
It is the power of God resting on my life that I do the very things that Jesus did. Preaching the Gospel. Sharing the good news of salvation when the Spirit so leads, even if language seems a barrier.
It is the burning I feel inside of me, knowing that sharing Jesus with a stranger has become as natural to me as introducing my name. I realize that I don’t have to fight for a way to bring Him up, to wonder if I am going to sound strange or drive someone away. The natural thing to do when meeting someone is to tell them about Jesus and find out if they know who He is or if they have questions about what He did for all of us.
I didn’t share because I was in a ministry setting and it was expected of me. I didn’t share because I’m a ‘missionary’ and that’s what we do, in fact, I didn’t even tell her I was a missionary. I didn’t share because someone was standing beside me, expecting me to say something to the ‘non-believer’.
I shared because the work of God in my life has transformed me from the inside out. I shared because the knowledge of His sacrifice is staggering to me each day, and every time I think about it, I get a fresh revelation of God’s love for me. I shared because Christ has become more important than even saying my name. I shared because He is everything to me, and His love has so consumed my soul that I’m completely aware of the love He has for all people, even a little Muslim family living at the base of a nameless mountain in the remoteness of the Tanzanian plains.
I’m increasingly realizing what a prideful person I have been and am with each passing day. When I feel the most justified before God, I often find those are the times I wind up on my face, wondering what happened. Through God shining light into the dark areas of my life, I have realized that in and of my flesh, I am the anti-state of who I am in Christ. This year has shown me who I am more than I could have ever imagined.
I am loving, I place others above myself, I desire harmony and peace among all around me, I yearn to see Christ glorified above all things. In and of my flesh, I am two-faced, I am selfish, I breed discord, and I long to see myself praised. The knowledge of this has brought me to my knees in brokenness, and I realize that nothing I can ever do can make me worthy of the identity Christ has created for me specifically. It is because of Him that I have the power to live life the way He created me. When I become prideful and let Satan enter my thoughts and control me, I am completely the opposite of who God created me to be. I can’t let salt and fresh water spring from the same fountain, I can’t breed good and rotten fruit on the same vine. I am learning to submit to God, to let Him define my identity, to trust Him when He says my tranggressions are as far apart as the east and the west, and to believe Him when He promises to remove the guilt of my sin.
At the same time, I’m realizing who I am in Christ:
I am not worthless. I am the daughter of a God who created the universe so vast we’ll never reach it’s end.
I am not undeserving. I am deserving of every good thing available to me, not because I am so inherently, but because Jesus’ sacrifice makes me able to deserve all the goodness God can lavish upon me.
I am not expendable. I am not replaceable, because if I say so, I say that Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross – GOD DYING FOR ME – wasn’t big enough to justify me.
I am not defenseless. I am not a slave to sin any longer, because the same power that God used to create all things and that Jesus used to raise the dead is living and active within me, because Romans 8:15-17 says that I have the very same inheritance as the Father and I am a co-heir with Christ, so that the things that they did, so also can I do, with the same outpouring of power as if I am God with skin on.
I am not ugly. I’m not because God finds my worth as dearer to Him than the beauty of the sun, moon, stars, forests, oceans, and mountains, because He individually created me as human, not as anything else, and the reason humans are created is to have a relationship with God, to be His friend, and to be His bride. Forget marrying a man, I’m the bride of Christ, and there’s no way God can find me ugly.
I understand that at the name of Jesus, every knee must bow, in Heaven, and on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. This means that when I cast out a demon in Jesus’ name, it will not only come out, it must come out, because the name of Jesus is the most powerful word in all creation. This means that when I pray for the sick in the name of Jesus, the sickness must subside and be destroyed, because the name of Jesus is greater than the symptoms of disease. This means that even death must submit to the name of Jesus and the dead be raised, because death couldn’t hold Him, so in His name, death must bow. It means that when God speaks to me about His plans for me which are seemingly impossible from my point of view, if I pray in the name of Jesus, knowing it is God’s will, He will bring it to pass for me, even when I don’t see how it can happen.
Jesus said in John 14:14, “You may ask me anything in my name, and I willl do it.” This is not a scripture twisted or taken out of context. In Philippians 2:13, it says that, “It is God who works in you to will and to act according to His good purpose.” If God lays on our heart things which are absolutely impossible, asking for it in Jesus’ name, we will have it.
I’ve stepped outside of the matrix. I’ve found the truth. I can look back on all I ever lived for a mere 8 months ago and see that it equates to nothing. Absolutely nothing I strove for could fulfill me, and I’d have to live with this deep, wordless longing inside of my heart and wonder what the words would say if I could hear them clearly.
But now, those words are singing over me, just as God did that night in Bulgaria. “Freedom, freedom, you are free; Freedom, freedom, you are free.”
Jesus said, “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you FREE.”
I’ve found the truth, and I’m clinging to it with everything I am and will ever be. I won’t let this go for a matrix, for a false reality, for a meaningless existence. The only true life I’ve ever found is screaming inside of me to get out and wash over all those around me, all I have to do is open my mouth and let His words speak through me, words of His life, His story, His love for all of us, even those who don’t feel good enough. NONE of us are good enough, but even I, chief of sinners, have found a truth I can never loosen my grasp on or trade for all the pleasures of a temporary world that will pass away and leave me empty and forsaken.
