Working on Yourself First
It's been a minute since I've thought about posting on my blog, it seems even further from my mind then usual when I'm enjoying my summer in the States. But I suppose we find the best revelations in hindsight.
Looking back on the past two years it's easy to see where God has blessed my time. I have had the time to adjust to Haitian life, language, and culture. The time to get used to this idea of trusting God with every decision, discerning where He's guiding me - all things I needed time to fully sink into. It has certainly been a blessing, but now I get the feeling that my adjustment time has ended, as I hear God saying "now get ready, the real work begins."
It isn't that I haven't been "working" these past two years; in fact, they have possibly been the hardest working years of my life. But it wasn't work in the way I had imagined it. You step onto the mission field, bright-eyed, with images of feeding the poor, healing the sick, serving those in need running through your excited mind. In reality I see now in hindsight, I was mostly working on myself.
No one warned me that all your "stuff" comes out when you walk onto the mission field. All that stuff you pushed down deep and didn't want to deal with, or worse, the stuff you thought you had already dealt with. The stuff from your past that left some deep seeded scars, or the stuff that looks a lot like rejection and vulnerability and weakness. The stuff we would just rather ignore. Well, you just can't ignore it on the mission field. When you step out of your comfort zone the enemy paints a life-size bullseye on your back and you become a target for his dart practice. He finds joy in bringing all that ugly "stuff" to the surface, planting it directly in your path, and watching you stumble and struggle your way through it. And that struggle doesn't look pretty, believe me. It isn't the wondrous image most people get when I say I'm a missionary; that image of me with a long skirt and chaco sandals holding the hands of small Haitian kids and guiding them through trash-filled, dusty roads into empowerment. No, it looks like a lot of sleepless nights, crying alone and wondering why I was being forced to face such hard, awful thoughts and fears head on when I chose to follow God. I chose to be obedient, yet my fears are dancing all over the life I'm trying to create, wreaking havoc in their paths. How is this fair?!
Fortunately, we have a merciful God. A God that likes to grab both our hands and wade through the waters of our brokenness with us. He takes it on Himself, shares the weight, protects us with armor and guides us along paths that lead to healing. These two years have not been easy - facing the darkest, deepest hurts of your life never is. But there is a freedom that comes on the other side of all that work, and it's a freedom that makes it all worth it.
During my time in Haiti I have worked through a lot of hurts that came from my childhood and past family struggles. In all honesty, it was some hurts that led to deeply embedded fears of rejection, fears of loneliness, and fears of being vulnerable and accepting true relationship. And those fears were crippling me. Of course none of us want to talk about those things, the stuff we hide from the world and from ourselves. But maybe we should. Maybe we should bring them out into the light and show them off to the world, because then they lose their power over us, and that's when we feel what freedom is.
I look back on these two years and I want to dance with joy, yelling Mesi Papa, thank you Father. I could be 75 years old and still suffocating under the weight of my fears, missing the true joy that comes from a life of freedom. But my Papa didn't allow that - He grabbed both my hands and walked me through the hard stuff, the ugly stuff, the painful stuff, and He led me into freedom, joy, vulnerability, love. It can easily be embarrassing to say I have spent two years on the mission field and accomplished more work on myself than anyone or anything else - but I choose not to be embarrassed. I choose to say thank you to my God for forcing me through it, and preparing myself to take what I have learned, the freedom and the strength I have found, and turn it outward as I step into my new role in Jubilee.
What a blessing it is that we have a Father that sits with us in the darkest places, but never lets us stay there. Mesi Papa! Let's get to work.
Looking back on the past two years it's easy to see where God has blessed my time. I have had the time to adjust to Haitian life, language, and culture. The time to get used to this idea of trusting God with every decision, discerning where He's guiding me - all things I needed time to fully sink into. It has certainly been a blessing, but now I get the feeling that my adjustment time has ended, as I hear God saying "now get ready, the real work begins."
It isn't that I haven't been "working" these past two years; in fact, they have possibly been the hardest working years of my life. But it wasn't work in the way I had imagined it. You step onto the mission field, bright-eyed, with images of feeding the poor, healing the sick, serving those in need running through your excited mind. In reality I see now in hindsight, I was mostly working on myself.
No one warned me that all your "stuff" comes out when you walk onto the mission field. All that stuff you pushed down deep and didn't want to deal with, or worse, the stuff you thought you had already dealt with. The stuff from your past that left some deep seeded scars, or the stuff that looks a lot like rejection and vulnerability and weakness. The stuff we would just rather ignore. Well, you just can't ignore it on the mission field. When you step out of your comfort zone the enemy paints a life-size bullseye on your back and you become a target for his dart practice. He finds joy in bringing all that ugly "stuff" to the surface, planting it directly in your path, and watching you stumble and struggle your way through it. And that struggle doesn't look pretty, believe me. It isn't the wondrous image most people get when I say I'm a missionary; that image of me with a long skirt and chaco sandals holding the hands of small Haitian kids and guiding them through trash-filled, dusty roads into empowerment. No, it looks like a lot of sleepless nights, crying alone and wondering why I was being forced to face such hard, awful thoughts and fears head on when I chose to follow God. I chose to be obedient, yet my fears are dancing all over the life I'm trying to create, wreaking havoc in their paths. How is this fair?!
Fortunately, we have a merciful God. A God that likes to grab both our hands and wade through the waters of our brokenness with us. He takes it on Himself, shares the weight, protects us with armor and guides us along paths that lead to healing. These two years have not been easy - facing the darkest, deepest hurts of your life never is. But there is a freedom that comes on the other side of all that work, and it's a freedom that makes it all worth it.
During my time in Haiti I have worked through a lot of hurts that came from my childhood and past family struggles. In all honesty, it was some hurts that led to deeply embedded fears of rejection, fears of loneliness, and fears of being vulnerable and accepting true relationship. And those fears were crippling me. Of course none of us want to talk about those things, the stuff we hide from the world and from ourselves. But maybe we should. Maybe we should bring them out into the light and show them off to the world, because then they lose their power over us, and that's when we feel what freedom is.
I look back on these two years and I want to dance with joy, yelling Mesi Papa, thank you Father. I could be 75 years old and still suffocating under the weight of my fears, missing the true joy that comes from a life of freedom. But my Papa didn't allow that - He grabbed both my hands and walked me through the hard stuff, the ugly stuff, the painful stuff, and He led me into freedom, joy, vulnerability, love. It can easily be embarrassing to say I have spent two years on the mission field and accomplished more work on myself than anyone or anything else - but I choose not to be embarrassed. I choose to say thank you to my God for forcing me through it, and preparing myself to take what I have learned, the freedom and the strength I have found, and turn it outward as I step into my new role in Jubilee.
What a blessing it is that we have a Father that sits with us in the darkest places, but never lets us stay there. Mesi Papa! Let's get to work.
