continued from earlier post
I am getting to the point where going around in circles just isn’t so appealing anymore. I am sick of working on myself. I am tired of spending time figuring out what my issues are and how to best fix them. Not because I don’t want to put the work in but because there is a hurt and dying world right in front of my face. And I am generally too concerned about me getting myself put together that i often overlook what is right in front of me.
I pass by the widow because I don’t stand in confidence. I shy away from the limping man because my trust in God is anything but substantial. I feel like I need to have it all together before I can go out and make a difference. And I’m waiting for the big explosion of God moving instead of being persistent in the small things. . .
I guess what I know right now is that I don’t know anything. I feel like I am back at square one where it is taking every ounce of energy I have just to believe God loves me. Wholly, completely, and just as I am. I am in that oh-so-familiar state of not getting it. . . maybe I am brinking on desperation and complete abandonment.
So, that’s where I am. Wandering around the desert. . . the Negev, to be exact.
Pray for me.
I really don’t want to be wandering around the desert for forty years. . . I can empathize with the Israelites now.
As I stare at the blinking cursor, I’m still not really sure what to write or how to close this amazing chapter of my life. I am back home, safe and sound. Re-entry has been much weirder than I expected. It’s not that I was unprepared or could have done something better before getting here, it’s just that I have been WRECKED for the ordinary, yet everything around me is surreal in its absolute normality.The first few days were great surrounded by family and friends for Thanksgiving and football, but then my sisters went back to their colleges, mom and dad went back to work and I sat alone, let me repeat, ALONE, in a room bigger than any I’ve shared with at least five other people in the past eleven months. The silence was screaming in my ears; so many thoughts were flying through my brain I couldn’t think straight. My emotions were many and all over the place. Pictures of face after face of beautiful children kept racing through my mind. I was praying. I was crying. I was confused.
I was and still am fighting the frustration of not knowing what’s next for me. Every person I come in contact with asks two questions: first, “How was your trip?” and secondly, “So, what’s next?” The first question I have mastered, the second I have not. As the response “I’m not really sure yet” leaves my lips I can feel an internal battle of frustration, disappointment, and confusion collide with faith, hope, and patience. I smile and walk away from the conversation an utter mess, which brings me to my knees. . . I begin to cultivate a heart of gratitude. . .
After the attack, a local radio station had called around to all the victims families asking how they felt and their response to what had happened. They were shocked to hear that when they called the girl’s family there were no threats of retribution, no anger, no hostility in their voices. The only thing the family said was that they were praying for the attackers.In the aftermath of losing their daughter to terrorists, the family was praying for the very people who killed their little girl.The radio station sat in disbelief. The story spread quickly and soon reached the television stations too. At this girl’s funeral, over 600 people showed up. News had reached the ears of both the Minister of Defense and the Minister of Education, who not only came, but spoke at the girl’s funeral. Her principal and kids from her class, none of whom were believers, shared her testimony that day which was then broadcast all over the nation.This young girl preached the gospel of Jesus Christ to the entire nation of Israel. She wasn’t a missionary. She wasn’t preaching from the pulpit every Sunday. She didn’t start any organizations or write a book. She probably hadn’t even gotten past her first year of high school. And yet the Lord used her. The Lord took this tragedy, this ugly example of hate and He used it for His good and His glory. She made His name great, just by living.
