I feel like, beginning with this trip, God began settling the quandary I have been placing myself in. The one where I was waiting — nail-biting and thumb-twiddling and all of that — to finally find the perfect fit for “my ministry.” Where does He want me? What am I supposed to be doing? Amid spiritual gift tests, personality profiles, bible studies, people telling me where I do and don’t belong, and good old waiting for the flashing neon sign from heaven, I was just plain old stuck. More talking about doing, than actually doing, all while waiting for the illusively perfect opportunity to arise.
Can I just say this? If God has put something in front of you, there is a reason. If He has placed one of his causes within your sphere of influence, it seems likely that He is calling you to play a part. Your part may seem small, like buying a necklace or a t-shirt, but there is purpose in that. It might be a one-time donation. And it might be jumping on a plane and traveling to only-God-knows-where, to become a part of something Big that He is doing there.
If you hear a story about something God is doing, and it stirs your heart, there is purpose in that. Pray first. Listen to the Spirit. Know that fear or anxiety is not from God and thinking about doing something uncomfortable may not generate feelings of peace for you. Then just start with the first step of obedience, one foot in front of the other. If everything begins to fall into place, and it looks like your desire is a real-life possibility, keep going! Note: I realize that some things are hard and do not come easily to us. I don’t intend that roadblocks or obstacles indicate that you are not called to something. There are always sacrifices to be made, even when He aligns all the stars and makes straight your path.
Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4
I have heard some different interpretations of this verse, and while I definitely agree that because God made the ultimate desire of the human heart to be God himself, He will fulfill this promise in Himself, I have another thought I’ve found as well. When God wants me to be involved with something, He often stirs my heart toward whatever that something is, sometimes way in advance. I call this ‘a knowing.’ He has given this heart desires which it cannot understand, asked my heart to wait patiently, and then faithfully returned to seal the deal at a later time. Thus, He has given me the desires of my heart.
So then, what is next? I realized before my feet ever departed the Kenyan ground, that I would be unable not to remain involved. In fact, saying good-bye never to connect again to that place, frightened and depressed me. There are too many people in Kenya that now hold a place in my heart. And the only way to see them and demonstrate the faithfulness of the Father I love, is to go back.
I agreed to go back, Lord willing, and help recruit folks for a more extensive Vision Trip in 2017. A team of 24 will be heading out of New England, Arkansas, and Texas to tour the area, be a witness to the work of Jesus, and form lasting relationships with the people there. The dates are currently set for July 26-August 6. Please be in prayer for this trip and all those who would join! To Him be the glory, forever and ever!
I love the idea that there are several folks out there still, who have no idea that God has placed Kenya on their agenda for 2017! It is too much fun to be involved in His work.
I want to push the proverbial pause button on this blogging journey for a minute and talk about one of my next steps. Because, well, it’s happening!
Leaving Kenya, I knew I couldn’t just disconnect. I would need to still be involved in the things God is doing there, from my stateside location. And I was fairly sure of three things He was inviting me to participate in.
Just five days after I arrived home from Kenya, and feeling pretty lost I might add, my favorite band, NEEDTOBREATHE, dropped their latest album, HARDLOVE. And when I heard the song “Testify,” I knew it was meant, at least in part, for me.
The tagline of Wells of Joy Ministries is “Now that I have seen, I am responsible.” I knew that I was supposed to come home and testify to the good works and beautiful stories I was a witness to. Blogging was an obvious outlet for this. Public speaking is also doable. But starting a company (of sorts) selling Kenyan accessories, was not as clearly on my radar.
Some of you may know about the online auction I held to raise funds for our mission team. It was such a success, I decided I would host another one after the trip with whatever items I would be able to bring back home. This is Thania.
She runs a shop in Kijabe selling jewelry and various decorative items. Most of my purchases came from her store. As I was buying the items to bring home for my second auction, she said, “God sent you here to me! I have to pay my daughter’s school fees, as she goes back to school next week.” I was completely floored that from this tiny nudge of an idea from God, He could weave the story out in so many directions, and accomplish such good. The idea that He chose ME to go all the way from Arkansas to serve His purposes for Thania all the way in Kijabe, Kenya is humbling and wild. God has grown that tiny idea, from the first pair of earrings I experimented with auctioning, to hosting jewelry parties and testifying about the work He is doing. Using the Swahili word for “testify” seemed most fitting. And so, Kushuhudia is born.
So, this Friday, I am hosting a launch party in my home to experiment on all of my friends. I will be testing to see which items are the most popular and how accurate my friends and I are on price points! All proceeds will go directly to the students of Brilliant Sharpening Community School, a ministry of Wells of Joy, in the Lunga Lunga slum of Nairobi. At the party I will share stories, pictures, and videos from both Wells of Joy and Cornerstone Preparatory Academy.
I have also been invited to sell some of the inventory at a local church’s Love Week event coming up later this month. Next month, Hannah Baugh returns to Arkansas from Kenya and has agreed to do some investigative work on the ground and restock the inventory so that I can do the online sale, as originally planned!
From there, I am eager to see if God plans to keep up this little endeavor! As long as I am able to get more inventory and am invited to display it at various parties and events, I plan to keep going, as He wills. If you are interested in hosting, please let me know! Have Kushuhudia, will travel!
At church recently, one of our pastors, Chris Rathbone, shared a message on perspective. I will do my best to paraphrase the part of the sermon that, for obvious reasons, has fastened itself to my thoughts this week. He said that when God sets each of us in our exact places, circumstances, and time, it gives each individual a unique perspective on the world. No one else can view the world, or God himself, exactly the way I do. The places and culture in which I live, the events that occur in my life, and the point in history in which I exist all contribute to my worldview, and thus color my lenses. A little bit differently than yours. Or maybe our lenses have vastly different colors, and without shared experience, it is really difficult for us to understand one another.
And then sometimes, God will haul your rear-end to another continent and give you the privilege of peeking into those vastly different things. It might just change the color of your comfortable, self-assured lenses.
I learned about and experienced a whole new version of the world when I visited Kenya. People who don’t look like me. Foods that I have never tasted. New smells. Roads that I have never traveled. God got bigger and the world became smaller.
I also decided that samosas and chai are great reasons to visit Kenya.
In Kenya, relationships come first. Quality wins over quantity every time. If a Kenyan is on their way to work, and they see an old friend, they will likely stop and spend time catching up with the old friend, whether or not it will make them late to work. If something doesn’t get done today, it will still be there tomorrow. I cannot tell you how peaceful and relaxed I felt while staying at Naomi’s Village. Time and to-do lists are major stressors for me back at home. In Kenya, I could breathe. I realized how much my American way of life wears me down. (I will add, a lot of American visitors feel a bit, um, exasperated by Kenyan time. Admittedly, when it becomes vital to be somewhere on time, such as the airport, and you need your driver to be prompt, you may decide you are ready to return to routine expectations.)
I was informed that indirect communication is the way to go in Kenya. For example, rather than saying, ‘Can you help me wash the dishes?’ someone might say, ‘There are a lot of dishes here that need to be washed.’ Coming from a culture that perceives this as passivity, rather than good manners, this indirectness takes some intentional awareness on the part of the visitor.
It is more important to spend time with a person, get to know them and hear them, than it is to accomplish a task.
Here’s how this has impacted me: I am a dreamer, a doer, a visionary, big-picture-minded, and a tiny bit of a thrill seeker. Being told that I need to slow down and really see others, sit with them and hear their story, and attempt to see through someone’s lenses besides my own? That’s not on my agenda. But it is from God.
To be perfectly honest, my stomach does flip-flops at the thought of blogging about Naomi’s Village. It is a phenomenal place, and my writing skills are no match for the magnitude of the work being done there. But then, I am just an ordinary woman who loves to write about what God does. I can rest knowing that I can never truly do justice to His work, but He is generous and kind to let me in and let me play this little part.
In 2003, Bob and Julie Mendonsa made their first trip to visit Kenya. Bob is an orthopedic surgeon who intended to offer his skills as a medical missionary for a limited amount of time to the hospital in Kijabe. Their plans shifted wildly when the Mendonsa’s laid eyes on the orphan crisis in nearby Maai Mahiu. A trucking town along the Trans-African highway, Maai Mahiu boasts a population of about 5,000 people, and an estimated 800 prostitutes are among them. Bob and Julie saw children who were abandoned, or left orphaned by AIDS, without a home or a hope in the world. And they knew that God was asking them to do something about it. Read and watch more here on the Mendonsa’s journey to Naomi’s Village.
“Much of the Western world has yet to grasp the severity of Africa’s orphan crisis, remaining largely unaware of the cries of 60 million children in dire need of help. In Kenya alone, Unicef reports 2.6 million orphans, more than the total population of Dallas and Fort Worth combined. There are seven hundred Kenyan children every day who hug their parent for the last time – one every two minutes.” (naomisvillage.org)
“We believe the solution to this crisis lies within Kenya. Our vision is to empower a group of children to grow up to be part of the answer to the cries of their orphaned peers. To this end, our children need more than just the basics, the subsistence life normally provided in a typical African orphanage. At Naomi’s Village, we provide nurturing love, healthcare, proper nutrition, excellent education, leadership training, spiritual care, and individual counseling to each child. Our children receive all that a child needs to develop fully, and to dream unhindered by limits. Our home is the kind of home your own child could live in. As our kids heal and grow, we then engage them in serving the needy along with us. By doing so, we are field-training a core group of empathetic leaders to grow up and multiply God’s redemptive work in Kenya through similar ministries of their own. Only then, when Kenyans are catalyzed to solve their own crisis, will the number of orphans begin to decline.” (naomisvillage.org)
I’d like to share some of the experiences, thoughts, and impressions that stood out to me during my short, four-day stay at NV. We arrived on Monday evening, still weary from our travels. We immediately got settled into the guest house and my thoughts began swirling.
The orphanage is currently home to 68 children, ranging in age from two months to 15 years. NV is completely funded through sponsorships and other donations. The property has a beauty all its own. It is also gated, surrounded by tall, electrified concrete walls and guarded all throughout the night by security guards armed with machetes. Rumor has it, Bob Mendonsa makes it clear: no one is going to mess with his kids. If you happen to pull the alarm in the guest house, even by accident, a terrifying screech fills the air and the men with machetes will come running. Don’t ask me how I know. Don’t open your mouth in the shower. Only drink the filtered water, which is brown from copper deposits, I was told. It’s a bit of a mental block to get past.
The guesthouse includes a main living and kitchen area, male and female dorms on each side, and a small family apartment in the back, for a total of 29 visitors. The Naomi’s Village chef prepared dinner for us and we learned that the housekeeper would take care the cleaning and would do laundry on Tuesdays and Fridays. Wait a minute. I’m on a mission trip. I’m here to serve, but a staff member has to take their time to clean up after ME? Oh, yes. I quickly realized that because of my visit, and the many other teams who visit NV throughout the year, and the money I paid to stay in the guesthouse, there are more Kenyans who have steady employment at a fair wage. To do my own laundry or prepare my own food would not actually be helpful to anyone. These wonderful people would not have a job, and I would be spending less time learning about Kenya and her people, and God’s work there.
Naomi’s Village is mainly staffed by Kenyans, from the house moms or “aunties”, to the teachers, social workers, and directors. Not only are they caring for orphans and raising up a cohort of future leaders for the country, NV is currently contributing to the local economy through employment opportunities and their own purchasing power.
It is a grave and difficult thing to know that this wonderful place was painfully birthed from such great tragedy. Some of the stories that these children own are absolutely heartbreaking. Here’s what I found: with the heartbreak comes the beauty of God at work; it is where you can find Him. In fact, it is impossible to miss Jesus here. His presence is practically palpable. There is something indescribably sacred about cradling a baby named Beloved in your arms who God just rescued from the depths of a pit latrine. It is good to weep over stories like Joshua’s, the very first child to reside at NV, who was the only member of his family to survive an act of domestic violence. A pair of siblings, John and Ruth, also lost their parents in a horrific homicide. So many stories well worth the time to read. Stories of God saving a remnant unto Himself.
Right before I left for my trip to Kenya, I happened upon a blog post, shared by a popular Christian writer. If that post made me angry then, it absolutely infuriates me now. In short, the blogger wanted to strongly discourage Christians from visiting orphanages and causing further attachment issues to children who have experienced a lot of loss and trauma. Because this blog is intended to be a space of grace, I will simply say that the advice given was anti-biblical and no statistical evidence whatsoever was provided. It was written from a position of judgment and elitism caused by a perspective of peering down one’s nose. It happens to the best of us.
Related, there has been some chatter recently in the Christian culture that, for lack of more sophisticated vernacular, poo-poos on the concept of the Christian short-term mission trip. There are valid concerns here. It is really, awfully ridiculous for a mission team to visit a place every year where the locals have to actually dirty up their own walls so that the Americans can come repaint them and feel good about having served those in need. In Kenya, if a church needs a paint job, a ministry leader will hire a local individual to take care of that need, pay them a fair wage to do it, and talk to them about Jesus while they work. I can’t recommend the eye-opening book, When Helping Hurts enough. I also can’t wait to read Chris Marlow’s new book, Doing Good is Simple.
I share the previous two paragraphs because I absolutely cannot imagine what the situation in Maai Mahiu would look like right now if it were not for short-term missions. All the supplies and donations that could not be delivered. (Things that cannot be purchased in-country, and because mail is not possible.) All the encouragement not received by the full-time missionaries. All of the children without sponsors. (International adoptions are not legal without first maintaining residency in-country for one year.) All of the people who would never go and see and all of the people who might never care and contribute.
I think what quietly struck me the most during my time at NV, aside from all the beautiful children with their beauty-from-ashes stories, and the precious staff members, was that God birthed the entire glorious story from one act of obedience. I know it was a fearsome thing to load up and get on a plane to Africa. But they said yes to God and set out on a “short-term mission trip” anyway. I can’t imagine how devastating and insurmountable the need appeared that first time the Mendonsas laid eyes on Maai Mahiu. Friends and churches began to visit. New ministries formed to meet needs in the outlying communities. Ministries are being funded through new relationships. And the threads that He has woven through their obedience now radiate out into a story that no one could have imagined.
On Tuesday the 5th, our team loaded up and drove to Kijabe, a little mission town not far from Maai Mahiu, where we were staying. Our leaders took our team to meet some of the missionaries living there and hear the stories of what God is doing in their various ministries. (Sidenote: Kijabe is such a cool place. I’m hoping to describe it in better detail in a later post. Kijabe made me feel like I could move to Kenya too. *big grin*)
Our first meeting of the morning was at the home of Shane & Allyson Smith, a couple originally from Flower Mound, Texas, who spent five years in Ethiopia, and the last three years in Kenya. Allyson works as a nurse practitioner in the Labor & Delivery department of Kijabe Hospital and with Student Health at Rift Valley Academy (RVA). Shane is the director of the Kenya and Tanzania branches of a ministry called Sports Friends. They have two daughters, one in college stateside, and the other in high school at RVA, and a son, Moses, who was adopted from Zambia, also an elementary student at RVA.
Allyson graciously gave us a tour of RVA, a world-renowned private boarding school for the children of African missionaries. (I would like to take a moment to stop and admire that school. It would be a huge privilege for anyone’s children to attend there. Students come out of RVA speaking multiple languages, jumping into the mission field, and become world-changers.)
We then were able to sit down and listen to Shane share about his work with Sports Friends. As many of you are aware, I’m really not a sportsing sort of gal. I mostly just tolerate sports. As Shane began to speak, I supposed I would just listen and politely nod and smile occasionally. You know, for effect.
And then the Lord BLEW MY MIND, for the first of several instances on that fateful day in Kijabe.
Let me start with the basics. Sports Friends is a ministry that was co-founded by a Harvard MBA graduate who felt God’s leading to start a ministry based on the use of sports as a medium to present the Gospel to young people. Very simply, their mission is “to equip churches in Africa, Asia, and South America to make disciples of youth, their families, and their communities through strategic sports ministry.” This ministry now serves 15 countries on four continents. Please click on the link above for more specifics.
Shane began sharing stories of the CRAZY things God is doing in Africa. He still gives visions, appears to people in dreams, and speaks out loud. He still heals. I could hardly believe that God is still moving in ways that sounded, well, Biblical. Like miracles, signs and wonders. Somewhere along the way, I guess I assumed that God left most of that stuff behind when they closed the Canon. He somehow became a quiet, contained God. And far too small.
As we walked away from the Smith’s home, I asked (exclaimed, maybe) Charelle, “What could this mean? Why don’t we see this in America?”
Are we just so distracted? Are we so deeply enmeshed in our pursuit of life, liberty, and the pursuit of all the comforts, that He chooses not to display His might in such overt ways…Because we don’t need Him? Would we rather be comfortable, or experience the glory of the Father?
The stories of what God is doing through pure obedience and a soccer ball overwhelmed my thoughts and perspective. He is moving in Muslim communities of Africa like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
This video on the story of David leaves me covered in chills. Short and sweet. Every believer should see this. For the follower of Christ, how we can we not jump at the invitation to be involved in His magnificence?
“Then he started to tell me, “You are my child. From now on, you are mine and you have to live for me.”
If you are a sportsing fan of any kind, or if you’ve never cared about sportsing a day in your life, this is a phenomenal ministry to contribute to and get involved with. Short-term trips are available too.
For every beast of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills. Psalm 50:10
Entitlement is a concept that sneaks its way into my thoughts on a daily basis now. From the way I frowned upon the sandwich I was served in a restaurant the other day, to the way my son described his disappointment with the new splash park: “Disgusting, too wet, and too many people in my way.”
the fact of having a right to something
the belief that one is inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment:
“God owns everything. Which simply means, it is not yours. You are simply a steward of it; you are more or less borrowing from God. We will have to give an account to how we took care of His Property.” — taken from the book Unearth, by Christy Vidrine & Autumn Rogers
If we are truly grateful people, shouldn’t that gratitude pour back out of us in response to all that we have been given? If my gratitude terminates on me, and isn’t poured back out in demonstration of the One who loves and lavishes us with everything he has…am I really thankful at all?
Relevant magazine recently published an article quoting statistics on tithing among the church in America:
“The church of today is not great at giving. This isn’t exactly news. But it is a statistical fact:
–Tithers make up only 10-25 percent of a normal congregation. –Only 5 percent of the U.S. tithes, with 80 percent of Americans only giving 2 percent of their income. – Christians are only giving at 2.5 percent per capita, while during the Great Depression they gave at a 3.3 percent rate.”
These statistics completely floor me. And I find the problem difficult to tackle. When pastors preach on giving, they receive sighs and eye-rolls from the pews. If they preach on generosity too regularly, attendance drops. So, since they can’t preach about it, we have to. Followers of Jesus must stir one another up to good works.
I have heard it suggested that the percentage of our giving is indicative of the level to which our hearts believe the Gospel.
Of course, you could spin the conversation to what could be accomplished if churches everywhere focused their funds on things like, I don’t know, sheltering orphans or feeding the hungry…instead of beautiful, comfy, elaborate buildings.
What does any of this have to do with Kenya? When you go places and see such disparaging differences between your Western lifestyle and the devastating poverty and circumstances in which many people, image-bearers of the living God, exist, it will shift your perspective. It will make your thoughts swirl. And maybe even ignite the fire in your belly. I have a hard time being quiet. Especially when so precious much is on the line.
Everyone to whom much was given, of him much will be required, and from him to whom they entrusted much, they will demand the more. Luke 12:48
I am taking this thing that Jesus said in regards to a parable he taught about His return very seriously. God has given you and I a whole lot. And while it’s true that He loves us and loves to lavish His blessings on us, I don’t believe that he intends for all those blessings to end in my selfish little bit of happiness.
When God’s people give, babies are rescued from dumpsters and given a home, a name, and a hope. The sick are healed. The prostitute is enveloped by a church who wants her. Girls open a textbook for the first time. Young boys play soccer and Jesus meets them in their dreams and calls them His own.
Well. Now that you all know that I am clearly the least of these when it comes to being a missionary… I’d like to share with you about our visit to Wells of Joy Ministries in the Lunga Lunga slum of Nairobi. Honestly, I have been so leary of writing this particular post because I don’t know how to begin to do this ministry justice, in a concisely written way, that can appeal to hearts in a similar fashion that my visit there did for me. And so I just pray.
I will start by explaining that Wells of Joy is the overarching ministry that represents both the church and Brilliant Sharpening Community School, housed in the same building there in the slum.
I had seen pictures of the slum taken from the school, but it was still hard for me to absorb what I saw there. I wish I had a video to share what it’s like to walk down the narrow streets of a slum. (Cameras or other technology could not be exposed in public, only within the walls of the school building.) The smells, the inquisitive eyes, the hard-packed, rocky earth, the weary looks, food cooking over open fires outside of tin shacks, filthy water, the babies roaming with the animals. The murmur of “mzungu” (light-skinned person).
We arrived at Wells of Joy and were greeted by the beaming face of Pastor Geoffrey Mutunga. Having met and spent such a brief time with him during his visit to Arkansas, it was so good to see him in his element. We also met our security officers, who accompanied us throughout our time in Lunga Lunga, complete with assault rifles. It was a whole new world.
We attended church at Wells of Joy on Sunday morning. We worshipped from hymnals, first in English, then in Swahili. Pastor Geoffrey preached a sermon that resonated with my heart (I’m laughing because I just realized he preached from Mark 6 about Jesus walking on the water. No wonder I connected that passage to my own weak faith in our travels). The students in attendance performed a dance for us. As Geoffrey dismissed the congregation, our team was immediately swooped upon and taken up by the students of Class 7 (the oldest students), who would be joining us for lunch at Tusky’s restaurant, just outside the slum. A young lady named Mildred gripped my hand and led me out of the church and down the street. She was shy and spoke only briefly, but was serious in her charge of escorting me to lunch, careful to make sure that none of the motorists or pikipiki (motorcycles) ran over me. I will not forget that walk.
During lunch, the sweet mother of a beautiful girl named Faith, came to join me at my table with Mildred. In one of the more profoundly humbling moments of my life, Nancy thanked me profusely for contributing to Brilliant Sharpening Community School. I didn’t want to be thanked because my contributions thus far have been so small, in my terms. I felt strongly that I should be the one to thank her, for blessing me with her presence. Though communication wasn’t easy because of these mzungu ears, we shared about our children. Mothers’ hearts speak the same gratitude when we feel someone has helped our child. She wanted to convey that and I overwhelmingly understand that emotion.
I also won’t forget the way those 14 children scarfed down plates piled high with Kenyan food and thinking of how I beg my kids to finish a meal back at home. My kids likely would have gone hungry at lunch that day out of stubbornness. And those Class 7 students would have let them know how silly that is.
We returned on Monday morning to be able to visit all of the students during school hours and were able to serve them their morning porridge. When we first saw the building that houses Wells of Joy church and Brilliant Sharpening Community School, we were told of how far the structure has come in the last few years, going from a dirt floor with one light bulb, to a 3-story building with running water and two meals a day now being served to hungry students. The school now contains 400 students everyday, who remain in this building from 6:00am to 6:00pm and are kept safe while their parents work.
The students LOVE having their picture taken and being able to see themselves. They shouted over and over, “Picture, picture!!” and I had a hard time saying no. They sang for us and played a game with Pastor Geoffrey before returning to their classrooms.
The needs are great but God continues to provide, piece by piece. At this time, funds are desperately needed to purchase the lots surrounding the existing building in order to make necessary facilities for required testing, a playground (can you imagine keeping 400 children within such a confined area 12 hours a day, six days a week??), and boarding facilities for Class 7 students. All donations are tax-deductible and it is easy to make a massive impact with the resources you possess. Email firstname.lastname@example.org for more info on sponsorship.
I had better start out this series of posts with a confession. I failed miserably at being a superhero missionary. I realized that up until this point, I had been one heck of a ballsy gal. I had said yes. I had written letters, emails, and blog posts. I had big faith. I had planned. I had fundraised. I had photographed and posted the journey complete with a hashtag. #goingtokenya
Somewhere standing in the line for security checks in JFK airport, I lost it. Just like the unexpectedness of a tsunami, a great fear washed over me. I could not do this. I wanted to turn around and run. I wanted to return to the comfort of my home, with my husband and children. Every time I pictured their faces, I burst into tears. I cried all over that damn airport. My poor teammates, most of whom had never met me before, had to have been really nervous about traveling all the way to Africa with a crazy woman who couldn’t dry it up.
In that moment of panic, I realized the utter failings of my heart. One of the very basic aspects of Christian theology is that our life is not our own and our God is sovereign over all of it. Including our number of days. We can’t love our own lives and still follow Him. We have to be willing to say, ‘Jesus is better’, and actually mean it. Better than living.
Well. The planes didn’t crash. I was not kidnapped, trafficked, robbed, chopped with a machete, or gunned down with an assault rifle. Post-survival, I am safely back in my home trying to make sense of my journey and the fact that I am still alive and breathing.
Over the next few days I pondered my desperate reaction to such an elementary piece of my faith. I actually redefined what ‘brave’ means to me now. I used to talk and write about bravery. That all seemed really silly when I realized I was choosing to go somewhere where my safety couldn’t be guaranteed. I listened to stories of missionaries going into hostile situations or taking trips unsure of how they would get back home. I decided it was really sassy of me to declare that someone is being brave because they talked to a stranger in Walmart or said the name of Jesus in public or shared a personal story of struggle. I was left angry at Americans for taking so many things for granted, all while maintaining a great fear of losing those same precious privileges that were being taken for granted.
The Spirit was so good to remind me of that time Jesus walked on the water. The disciples were terrified, being tossed around by wind and waves in a little boat, then they think they see a ghost, of all the things. (I mean, I would have wet my pants too.) But immediately Jesus says to them, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.” He was just taking a little stroll across the water. Pretty awesome, right? Peter and I are cut from a similar cloth. Peter wanted to be great too, so he said, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”
He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus.But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.”Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased.And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.” (Matthew 14)
Just like Peter, I could not find my footing. My footing, coming from my North American framework, was based on the sureness of solid ground beneath my feet. Ground that I know and can generally trust. Peter saw the wind and lost faith, just like I saw airplanes at 35,000 feet and an unknown, mysterious land full of uncertainty 8000 miles away.
I challenged Jesus to beckon me on this journey. I said to him, ‘If this is you, call me out onto the water.’ He did. Just like Peter, I set out strong. Fear sinks us every time. HE is faithful and merciful to reach down and save us.