Struggles

I am often amazed at how God prepares our hearts for what lies ahead.

I bowed out of a trail run Saturday morning with some hilarious women because I was in the “Jesus Zone.”  I was having some sweet communion with My Savior and just couldn’t bring myself to part from his presence.  During my time with him, he led me to a book entitled, “Peace, Perfect Peace” by F.B. Meyer.

It is a short book.  One that I finished in about an hour.  Little did I know, that in less than twelve hours of closing the cover, I would need it.

I received shocking news later that day that my dear, sweet friend, Rob Murray, died suddenly.  As I began to talk to God through the fog of my feelings, he reminded me of the words I read earlier, “The moment of absence is the moment of presence. As the spirit withdraws itself from the body, closing blinds and shutters as it retires, it immediately presents itself in the presence of the King, to go no more out for ever.”

Slowly, God began to raise the curtain of shock and sadness to let the light of his truth shine into my heart: seven hundred and twenty minutes before, he had prepared me for that moment!

My thoughts that evening would alternate between thoughts of how awesome God is and memories of Rob.  I pondered the immensity of God’s love and care for his children.  His well-timed provision, and His generosity in loaning the world Rob Murray if only for a while.

My friend, Rob, now knows the face of Jesus.
He has seen the throne room of God.
He has kneeled at the feet of the King.

And my heart, like Rob’s soul, takes wings under the realization that he is now home and he is happy.  His love for those he left behind is “only altered in its brilliance and intensity.”  He can now love perfectly because he is perfectly loved.

My hope in the days to come is that I can use the lessons that I learned in that small, yet profound book, to comfort those Rob left behind.

“In sore sorrow, He comforts best who says least, and who simply draws near, and takes the sufferer’s hand, and is silent in his sympathizing love.”

You know how God gives folks new names in the Bible? Abram became Abraham; Sarai became Sarah; Saul became Paul.  I think God is about to start calling me Jonah.

A couple of months ago, we ranked in order of preference, the teams we would like to serve on during our mission trip to Peru. The number of teams we had to choose from could rival the NFL. We could pick between the medical team, dental team, door-to-door evangelism team, eye clinic team, children’s ministry team, spiritual counseling team, etc.

With my pencil in hand, I stared at the list and heard quite clearly a familiar voice in my soul, “I want you to put down door-to-door.” My response was immediate and determined, “That’s crazy! No way!”

Of all the teams on that list, door-to-door was my last choice. I’d rather stick my hand in someone’s mouth in the dental clinic than traipse about Peru going from house to house selling Jesus. In my mind there are two words for that: night – mare.

Again, I heard the voice: “I want you to do door-to-door!” My palms started to sweat and my resolve became more pronounced as I said silently, “I’m not going to put it down as number one but I will put it in the number two slot.”

As I type that sentence I want to punch myself in the face for being such an idiot. Why do I resist!? I just blatantly cruised down to Joppa and bought a ticket to Tarshish instead of Ninevah. Just call me Jonah.

I turned the form in with the following rankings:  

1) medical clinic
2) door-to-door evangelism
3) eye clinic.
(Sadly, the dental clinic took last place since door-to-door moved up the chart.)

In our next meeting, I couldn’t flip through the pages of the handout fast enough to find out my team assignment. I glanced through the medical team first. Kellie’s name was there, but mine was strangely missing. Next, my eyes frantically scanned the list of eye clinic volunteers. I got excited as I located Robyn and Lil’s names, but there must have been a mistake because my name was not on that list either. Then, as I saw my name under the door-to-door evangelism team, I’m pretty sure I threw up a little (spiritually at least) and I think I saw God cross His arms, lean back on his throne, and with a smirk on His face say, “Ummm. Hmmmm. I said door-to-door!”
Yep. Just call me Jonah.

And just like Jonah, I pouted a while.  Until one day, I heard myself say to someone, “My friends are working in the eye clinic and on the medical team, but I have to do door-to-door.”  I cringed as those words came out of my mouth.  How could I be so selfish and ungrateful? 

My response should’ve been “I get to go door-to-door;”  or “I get to tell people about the God who I love and serve;” or “I get to see people make the most important decision of their lives.”  

My perspective shifted even more when Dr. Bill commented something to the gist of:  “The door-to-door evangelism team is really the elite team; That’s where it’s at.”   I sank in my chair. 

Embarrassed by my unworthiness.
Humbled by God’s grace.
And honored to be chosen. 

Do you know what the best part is?
I don’t have to. 
I get to!

I’m not sure if I have mentioned this on the blog or not, but I am going on a mission trip to Arequipa, Peru on July 16th. I have never been out of the country nor have I been on a mission trip like this before. And to be honest, I am petrified!

When we signed up for the trip several months ago, one of the girls in the group was nervous.  Oddly, I was the calm one.  Then, it occurred to me that eventually the roles would be reversed.  Well, Friends, we have reached that junction.  She is calm; I am terrified.

I’m scared for a lot of reasons.  First, the bathroom situation.  My stomach is quite ridiculous in it’s irritability, so I worry about facilities being nearby.  Not only that, but I worry about what those facilities will look like.  Now, let me be clear here:  I am not a germ-a-phobe.  I do not expect clean facilities.  But I do hope for a toilet bowl and not a hole in the floor.  Grace is not my middle name which I’m sure will lead to an interesting experience.  Not to mention my poor thighs.  I’m not sure they are up to the task.  Perhaps I should add some squats and lunges to my workout routine just in case.

The second thing I worry about is what I will eat.  Y’all know I’m a picky eater, but then you add the risk of bacterial infections and parasites, and well…what’s a girl to do?  Cheese and peanut butter crackers & cereal bars will most likely be on the menu; or perhaps I’ll end up with a 10-day fast for the Lord.  Let’s face it, I can miss a few meals for Jesus.

So, these are my honest and ridiculous fears of traveling abroad.  Don’t you wonder if God just rolls his eyes at us sometimes and whispers, “You of little faith!  Why do you doubt? (Matthew 14:31)”