March 17, 2015 - Monte Flor, Chichicastenango, Guatemala
I'll never forget the time or the place. It was a Tuesday evening during debrief with the team I was co - in-charge-of that week. Last Tuesday, a week ago (May 12), marked exactly 8 weeks since that night. It seems like so much longer than only 2 months - sometimes I'm almost not sure if it's really real. It's all happened so fast but God's finger print has shown up at every turn, letting everyone know that this is His doing and that no human being could ever have orchestrated this.
If you would have told me a year, or even 4 months ago that in the very last 2 weeks of me living in Guatemala, with the very last team that I worked with there, an opportunity to work my dream job would just 'fall into my lap,' I would have chuckled, tried to explain how unrealistic that would be, and went on to persuade you how it would probably never happen. It's not that I wouldn't have believed it could happen - I would have said my faith was stronger than that much doubt - it's just that my dream job is complicated, the kind of complicated that doesn't just all fall into place in 8 weeks' time.
Some people talk about a calling. A very specific calling to a specific ministry at a specific point in life. Their entire life goals have to do with this calling. All the training they intentionally acquire is for this specific reason.
Some people talk about 'signing up'. Maybe they can't pinpoint that specificness, but their heart bears a willingness to go where God sends them and serve in whatever capacity He wants them in. Even if their life goals haven't always pointed to the place He sets them in.
My story is a bit of both.
That specific calling? It came when I was 12 years old.
My brother had taught me to read when I was 5 and since then, I read an average of a book a week - pretty much anything I could get my hands on! My friends can tell you I've never been your typical emotional female. I don't cry very easily - at all (it's actually something I had to ask God to cultivate in me - this ability to connect emotionally - but that's beside the point). One week, I picked up the book "The Cross and the Switchblade" by David Wilkerson in our family 'library' thinking it looked like an interesting read. (Whether or not you're not familiar with his ministry, the book is definitely worth reading!) I'll always remember it as the first book I cried through. Reading the story of how God sent the pastor of a small rural church into the worst part of New York City to reach the hearts of gangs for Christ stirred my 12-year old heart, breaking open the ground and planting the seed of desire to go into the worst places of this Earth if it meant following Christ. While nearing the end of reading about Wilkerson's story of beginning the inner-city mission, one dilemma he wrote about struck a specific chord in my heart and I knew what it was God wanted from me. The dilemma was recruiting people to help with his ministry. He found many willing to work with the boys (once you've got em, you usually got em); finding people with tender hearts to reach out to the young kids on the streets was no problem (young hearts are so much easier to minister to than the older hardened souls); but for a while, no one wanted to work with the girls. The girls were harder to reach; they had been so emotionally damaged that it was extremely difficult to break through the walls they had built to protect themselves. Even if they went through drug rehab and left the streets, it was not unusual to find them right back in the same place within a few months' time.
Laying on my bed with tears streaming down my face, I told God, "I'll go. I'll work with the girls. Whether it's in NYC or my own backyard, send me to the troubled, brokenhearted, downtrodden teenage girls - I'll go."
Dreams of opening a girls' home (maybe even a ranch in the country) seemed to be what I thought my calling would end up turning in to (again, ask my friends - they know!). In the mean time, throughout my teen years I was traveling with my family to Central America for missions' work during the winter months, gaining ministry experience through music in 'my local Michigan', and just learning the basics of life in a business-owning and otherwise not-so-normal-American home. I loved traveling out of the country for missions, but for so long I'd thought 'my calling' was to the states. I saw the teen generation around me and my heart broke for a way to reach out to them. I went through brokenness of my own and wanted so much to just be able to share experiences to bring healing to someone else's heart the way others did for mine.
Then an opportunity opened up for me to spend an entire year in Guatemala.
At the time, I thought, "Why not? It'll give me more ministry experience that I'll be able to use long-term, and besides, I love Guatemala." Granted, I did pray about it for a while before jumping into it (yeah, I'm most definitely not an impulsive person!), but God had clearly brought this opportunity and there was every peace in my heart about going. And besides, I'd told God a long time ago that I would go where He sent me. So I went! And I blogged :) If any of what I'm writing right now doesn't make sense, browse through the last year of my life on here and you'll figure most of it out.
Which brings me to March 2015.
Nearing the end of what I refer to as 'my life in Guatemala', there were so many questions running through my head. It was extremely difficult to be preparing to leave the home I had come to love so much more than I'd ever thought possible. I knew I'd be back at some point in time, but I had no clue for how long or even when. There were many times that I considered committing to longer-term or at least the end of the year, but God never gave me peace about it. He did give me peace about returning to the States but was being seemingly quiet on what to do next.
I'd planned to move to ND to work and live with my sisters for at least the summer and look for ministry opportunities but really didn't know what to plan for. At the same time, my calling of working with abused teen girls kept coming up over and over. About 4 years ago, I first heard a story of the horrors involved in human trafficking and began learning about how prevalent it was becoming not only in third-world countries but also in the USA. I can remember a phone conversation with my sister last summer telling her that I really felt like this just might be what that specific calling was - helping to rescue girls from human trafficking. However I didn't have any connections and it was hard to pursue leads while living and working with a ministry focused in a different field of need. Besides, I was loving life in Guatemala and my job there and wanted to focus on being where God had me without missing anything by looking ahead too fast.
In March, I set aside 4 weeks to fast and pray specifically about what was laying ahead of me - with seemingly no clue as to what would happen. At that time, my roommate Rachel and I were helping Lance on alternate weeks with coordinating teams coming to Guatemala to work alongside the ministry. 'My' last team of the year was coming 2 weeks before my scheduled flight home on April 1. Although I was excited about the week (working with teams was always a fun job) it was bitter-sweet to think about it being one of those 'lasts'. By this time, I was already half-way through my 'scheduled' fasting time and still didn't seem to be getting answers. However, God was teaching me so, so much about resting in His peace and being confident that I could go forward even without knowing what the future held, as well as being willing to serve in any capacity regardless of the area or form of ministry. I fully expected to go home without any further direction than moving to ND and going from there.
The more I get to know my God, the more I think He loves to make me stretch outside of my comfort zone. He knows that I am 'addicted' to order and organization. I'm an extreme planner who gets a little (ok, a lot) irritated when things don't go according to plan. I relish the opportunity to take a multidimensional task and make order and perfection come out of chaos. He keeps asking me if I love Him more! He keeps putting me into situations and circumstances where I can only walk by faith without being able to plan for one day. He asks me if I trust Him, then takes my sincere, thought-out 'yes', and lands me in places so fast that all I can do is hang on and try to enjoy the ride. He enjoys humor - of this I am convinced! But He is good - oh, so good! And so faithful...
March 17, 2015 - Monte Flor, Chichicastenango, Guatemala
On a Tuesday evening in the community center living room during debrief with the team, a door of possibility swung wide open, almost hitting me in the face. And to think - I almost missed it.
Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way; walk in it."
Isaiah 30:21
I'll never forget the time or the place. It was a Tuesday evening during debrief with the team I was co - in-charge-of that week. Last Tuesday, a week ago (May 12), marked exactly 8 weeks since that night. It seems like so much longer than only 2 months - sometimes I'm almost not sure if it's really real. It's all happened so fast but God's finger print has shown up at every turn, letting everyone know that this is His doing and that no human being could ever have orchestrated this.
If you would have told me a year, or even 4 months ago that in the very last 2 weeks of me living in Guatemala, with the very last team that I worked with there, an opportunity to work my dream job would just 'fall into my lap,' I would have chuckled, tried to explain how unrealistic that would be, and went on to persuade you how it would probably never happen. It's not that I wouldn't have believed it could happen - I would have said my faith was stronger than that much doubt - it's just that my dream job is complicated, the kind of complicated that doesn't just all fall into place in 8 weeks' time.
Some people talk about a calling. A very specific calling to a specific ministry at a specific point in life. Their entire life goals have to do with this calling. All the training they intentionally acquire is for this specific reason.
Some people talk about 'signing up'. Maybe they can't pinpoint that specificness, but their heart bears a willingness to go where God sends them and serve in whatever capacity He wants them in. Even if their life goals haven't always pointed to the place He sets them in.
My story is a bit of both.
That specific calling? It came when I was 12 years old.
My brother had taught me to read when I was 5 and since then, I read an average of a book a week - pretty much anything I could get my hands on! My friends can tell you I've never been your typical emotional female. I don't cry very easily - at all (it's actually something I had to ask God to cultivate in me - this ability to connect emotionally - but that's beside the point). One week, I picked up the book "The Cross and the Switchblade" by David Wilkerson in our family 'library' thinking it looked like an interesting read. (Whether or not you're not familiar with his ministry, the book is definitely worth reading!) I'll always remember it as the first book I cried through. Reading the story of how God sent the pastor of a small rural church into the worst part of New York City to reach the hearts of gangs for Christ stirred my 12-year old heart, breaking open the ground and planting the seed of desire to go into the worst places of this Earth if it meant following Christ. While nearing the end of reading about Wilkerson's story of beginning the inner-city mission, one dilemma he wrote about struck a specific chord in my heart and I knew what it was God wanted from me. The dilemma was recruiting people to help with his ministry. He found many willing to work with the boys (once you've got em, you usually got em); finding people with tender hearts to reach out to the young kids on the streets was no problem (young hearts are so much easier to minister to than the older hardened souls); but for a while, no one wanted to work with the girls. The girls were harder to reach; they had been so emotionally damaged that it was extremely difficult to break through the walls they had built to protect themselves. Even if they went through drug rehab and left the streets, it was not unusual to find them right back in the same place within a few months' time.
Laying on my bed with tears streaming down my face, I told God, "I'll go. I'll work with the girls. Whether it's in NYC or my own backyard, send me to the troubled, brokenhearted, downtrodden teenage girls - I'll go."
Dreams of opening a girls' home (maybe even a ranch in the country) seemed to be what I thought my calling would end up turning in to (again, ask my friends - they know!). In the mean time, throughout my teen years I was traveling with my family to Central America for missions' work during the winter months, gaining ministry experience through music in 'my local Michigan', and just learning the basics of life in a business-owning and otherwise not-so-normal-American home. I loved traveling out of the country for missions, but for so long I'd thought 'my calling' was to the states. I saw the teen generation around me and my heart broke for a way to reach out to them. I went through brokenness of my own and wanted so much to just be able to share experiences to bring healing to someone else's heart the way others did for mine.
Then an opportunity opened up for me to spend an entire year in Guatemala.
At the time, I thought, "Why not? It'll give me more ministry experience that I'll be able to use long-term, and besides, I love Guatemala." Granted, I did pray about it for a while before jumping into it (yeah, I'm most definitely not an impulsive person!), but God had clearly brought this opportunity and there was every peace in my heart about going. And besides, I'd told God a long time ago that I would go where He sent me. So I went! And I blogged :) If any of what I'm writing right now doesn't make sense, browse through the last year of my life on here and you'll figure most of it out.
Which brings me to March 2015.
Nearing the end of what I refer to as 'my life in Guatemala', there were so many questions running through my head. It was extremely difficult to be preparing to leave the home I had come to love so much more than I'd ever thought possible. I knew I'd be back at some point in time, but I had no clue for how long or even when. There were many times that I considered committing to longer-term or at least the end of the year, but God never gave me peace about it. He did give me peace about returning to the States but was being seemingly quiet on what to do next.
I'd planned to move to ND to work and live with my sisters for at least the summer and look for ministry opportunities but really didn't know what to plan for. At the same time, my calling of working with abused teen girls kept coming up over and over. About 4 years ago, I first heard a story of the horrors involved in human trafficking and began learning about how prevalent it was becoming not only in third-world countries but also in the USA. I can remember a phone conversation with my sister last summer telling her that I really felt like this just might be what that specific calling was - helping to rescue girls from human trafficking. However I didn't have any connections and it was hard to pursue leads while living and working with a ministry focused in a different field of need. Besides, I was loving life in Guatemala and my job there and wanted to focus on being where God had me without missing anything by looking ahead too fast.
In March, I set aside 4 weeks to fast and pray specifically about what was laying ahead of me - with seemingly no clue as to what would happen. At that time, my roommate Rachel and I were helping Lance on alternate weeks with coordinating teams coming to Guatemala to work alongside the ministry. 'My' last team of the year was coming 2 weeks before my scheduled flight home on April 1. Although I was excited about the week (working with teams was always a fun job) it was bitter-sweet to think about it being one of those 'lasts'. By this time, I was already half-way through my 'scheduled' fasting time and still didn't seem to be getting answers. However, God was teaching me so, so much about resting in His peace and being confident that I could go forward even without knowing what the future held, as well as being willing to serve in any capacity regardless of the area or form of ministry. I fully expected to go home without any further direction than moving to ND and going from there.
The more I get to know my God, the more I think He loves to make me stretch outside of my comfort zone. He knows that I am 'addicted' to order and organization. I'm an extreme planner who gets a little (ok, a lot) irritated when things don't go according to plan. I relish the opportunity to take a multidimensional task and make order and perfection come out of chaos. He keeps asking me if I love Him more! He keeps putting me into situations and circumstances where I can only walk by faith without being able to plan for one day. He asks me if I trust Him, then takes my sincere, thought-out 'yes', and lands me in places so fast that all I can do is hang on and try to enjoy the ride. He enjoys humor - of this I am convinced! But He is good - oh, so good! And so faithful...
March 17, 2015 - Monte Flor, Chichicastenango, Guatemala
On a Tuesday evening in the community center living room during debrief with the team, a door of possibility swung wide open, almost hitting me in the face. And to think - I almost missed it.
Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way; walk in it."
Isaiah 30:21
No comments:
Post a Comment