You know those days when all you want is to be back on the mission field? For those who have never been on the mission field, you don’t know what I’m talking about, but if you have then you know what I mean. Well, I’ve had that kind of week. All of it came to a head yesterday. Yesterday I went to a brunch at a local church with my mom and sister. The entire time my only thoughts were on foreign missions. My heart is far from here in Mississippi. Emotionally my heart hasn’t been here for a long time. If home is where the heart is this isn’t my home.
I sit in my seat at the brunch in fresh cleaned clothes with my hair fixed (at least somewhat fixed). I even remembered to shower the night before (which for me this is shocking). But in this moment I’m longing to be dirty and smelly after a long day of ministries. I’m feeling a little claustrophobic in this cold room (caused by AC) filled with about a hundred people. I miss the long hot days in Nicaragua and Uganda.
A few hours later after the brunch has ended, and I am done with the shopping that had to be done for my trip, I find myself running at the Reservoir finally finding the warmth that I was wanting just a few hours ago. Within minutes I’m already sweating, but that’s how I like it. I had hoped to run about an hour, but just 30 minutes into the workout I’m emotionally drained, which in turn means my body begins to slow down. I decide to go on to my favorite coffee shop and spend time worshiping, reading my Bible, and journaling. This always helps when I’m having one of “those days”.
After getting my frappe I sit down on one of the couches, pull out my Bible, and begin to read first in Psalms and then in Luke. Truthfully, after reading a couple of chapters I’m still not feeling better, so I finally give up. There’s no use reading it right now. My heart still isn’t here. I tell Him like I have so many times in the past about how bad He has wrecked my life. Here I am, sitting in my favorite coffee shop; all I want to do is read a few good, warm fuzzy happy verses. That’s all I want, nothing more. I want to feel good about what I do. But no, God won’t have it.
I look down at my phone to see one of the pictures of my two favorite kids I met in Uganda last summer. The little girl whose name I still don’t know is standing in this picture. How I long to hold her again. This is the girl I’ve prayed for every day since returning from Uganda. Many nights I lay awake thinking about her, wondering if she’s ok. Last night was one of those nights, when I finally did fall asleep I dreamed about her… again. Which probably led to one of “those days” today. I’m not just longing to hold her again, though. I’m longing to hold and love on any kid in a third world country right now. I tell Him again about how much He has wrecked my life for missions. I can almost hear the smile in His voice when he says, “I know”. When I used to have conversations like this with God it usually ended with me letting Him know I regret praying for Him to break my heart a few years ago. But not today. Though I’m wrecked and still broken hearted, I wouldn’t change any of it.
I look around at the people in the coffee shop. There are two guys having a Bible study reading those “warm, fuzzy verses. Then there is a group of girls taking about what they got on their latest shopping trip and about getting the hair and nails done. I want to vomit hearing them talk. Millions of people are enslaved each and very day; million of kids will starve today. I think to myself, “I don’t like people”, and today I mean it.
I’m still sitting there, the coffee that usually only takes me minutes to drink is still half full thirty minutes later. I’m feeling a little guilty for drinking it. I sit there another 30 minutes doing everything in my power not to cry, not here, not now. My heart is beyond broken right now. I know this is how God wants me to feel, because He knows by breaking my heart like this I’ll act on it. I sit praying for the people I’ve meet in Nica and Uganda and for the people I’ll meet this fall. Praying doesn’t help either; I know the only thing that will change this feeling is to act. I look out the window just in time to see a plane take off. I have no clue where that plane is going, but I’m longing to be on it. I know jumping on a plane right now won’t help either.
After a little while I decide to head home. Once I’m in my car I start listing all the things that I’m grateful for:
- I’m grateful for food, though I know if I ate anything I’d feel guilty about eating when so many don’t have any.
- I’m grateful that I’m not blinded to suffering around the world even though it hurts.
- I’m grateful for my time in the coffee shop this afternoon, though I’m already feeling guilty for buying coffee.
- I’m grateful for the heat.
- I’m grateful for His faithfulness, not just through fundraising, but also through His love for me
I can’t think of anything else at the moment, so I just leave it at that.
I tell Him again that I’m ready for August 31st when I’ll meet up with my team and head to our first country together. He already knows I’m ready to leave. But He likes to hear me say it.
He reminds me again that I’m right where He wants me, wrecked and broken. For now this is going to be enough I tell myself.
