There are so many trees surrounding me. Just looking around makes me forget where I am. I could be anywhere. I’m lying under a towering tree that reaches high and twists to the ground. There are piney mountain trees ahead, and the largest palm tree to my left, standing solo in front of a Dr. Seuss-like forest. I can’t name all of the types or shapes or sizes, but I know the beauty of this place. I can imagine the Garden of Eden looked something like this, a place where every animal and plant and creation came together – before they were scattered to the ends of the earth. Maybe this is where it all started. Maybe it was here, under the soft heat of the sun, enveloped in the magnificence of nature, that Eve saw Adam for the first time. When life was perfect. When the world was free from darkness and sin. When God walked alongside his beloved creations. It would happen here. God, I hope you can see the longing in my heart to have that again.
Ok, after a 20 minute conversation about the future with Craig, it’s time to write. I need to process some things.
Sunday I volunteered to give the sermon. Don’t ask me why. All I knew was the story of Job – I’ve got that down. So from Friday night to Sunday morning I am pretty much out of self. Nervousness and insecurities arose, and I was not hearing God tell me what to preach. Sunday came, and I spent the morning pacing, primping, and reciting the story of Job. I walked to church practically in silence, and Frank did a good job trying to encourage and uplift me. So many prayers were said – from me, from Becca, from Craig. I could feel the spirit cover me so much yesterday, but I could still not find the words to say. Then worship came, and something unexpected happened. I could not think about the sermon. All I could think about was coming back to Africa – to go on another mission in January. To go home to shower, repack and fly out again. Where did this come from, God? Is it from you? Because I cannot shake it. I can’t stop thinking about this life, this calling, this passion. Is it what you have for me right now? I have so many questions, and at the same time my heart leaps with excitement. Living in community, leaving the commercialized U.S. for the empty hands of children. I’ve never even heard of YWAM before this trip, but now it makes so much sense (in a crazy missionary way) to move to Australia, study for three months, then go serve at some far off destination – wherever it is you lead me next, Father. This is such a new development and it’s heavy on my heart. I know you said you would lead me, God – and I trust you. Thank you for giving me the next piece in the puzzle, if this is what you have for me. And on top of it all, I did not even preach yesterday – the guest pastor stepped in unannounced. I guess your plan was bigger than a sermon.
On a lighter note, I went to my very first concert in Kenya last night – a crazy, outdoor gospel concert at their football stadium – and it was amazing! I almost feel guilty for never having listened to Kirk Franklin, considering he lives in Dallas and Eva, Zitah and Steve are all pretty much in love with him. He was good, but the atmosphere was exceptional. So much dancing and singing and just praising the Lord in a way only Africans know how to do. When they worship, it’s with their whole body and full heart. There is so much positive energy, and no one cares how you dance or if you sing out of key, we were there to praise our God – the one living God who surpasses all ethnic boundaries. What a time of praise and worship. I left that place so physically exhausted that I fell asleep in the Mutatu – a nearly impossible feat, especially when it’s brimming with passengers and jolting from one side of the road to the other, up and over hidden speed bumps. Ah, what a good night. I could life this life, God. If you ask me to, I would love to live this life.
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