Well, I would feel very important writing this…
…if I had something interesting to share.
As it stands, however, I am just a girl in West Africa, trying to live a life of praise. The pure, unvarnished truth is that I’m trying to find a way to entrust my life to the Lord.
This is somewhat akin to saying I’d like to lift 200 lbs of feathers. At first you think, Augh, feathers! They are light! And feather-y! And then you realize that 200 lbs of anything is really 200 lbs. And then you wonder why you would need 200 lbs of feathers and the whole metaphor goes terribly awry and starts trampling skyscrapers in a far-off country.
But back to the point at hand.
Last year, giving Him my life meant hanging out in a girl’s orphanage in India, doing computer lessons for some teachers, running summer camp for elementary school kids, doing whatever I could to fill in wherever I could with the skills I had.
This year, it means going to West Africa and doing whatever the Lord asks of me. It used to stress me out because I’d think that there was something I had to do for the Lord. Imagine it’s Father’s Day. THE Father’s Day. And I’m trying to get him a present. Maybe some coupons: Turn this coupon in and Kermit will mow the lawn; Turn this coupon in and Kermit will convert a non-believer…
And as I was praying about making this trip and trying to raise support, I read Acts 17: 24-28. The verse most pertinent to correcting my skewed view of how I could be of service to Him is verse 25:
“…nor is He served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things.”
What could I give the Father, who gave me life and breath and all things?
My life.
My breath.
All my things.
Because I was bought with a price. And I am no longer my own.
Before it is assumed that I am in line for sainthood, I must confess that I hoard things like I’m preparing for a zombie apocalypse. Seriously. I hoard cards, presents, chocolate, food, clothes… I am the queen of packrats and the Grand Empress of Being Prepared for Every Eventuality. Kind of like the Israelites hoarding manna when the Lord was providing enough daily to begin with.
I also like to ask God for his blueprint for my life. Like, for a few years down the road. I’m sure I’m the only, solitary person who feels this way, but I just need to know what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. And shouldn’t God realize that I’m special and just let me onto that plan?
I have tried this ‘I am special’ argument.
God agreed (I imagine), but did not grant my request.
So I figure that there is nothing I can do for Him. There are no coupons I can give, no presents I can offer.
He deserves to get what He bought, and He bought me – broken, messy, hoarding, control freak that I am.
So here and now, I am trying to live in the here and now. I am currently staying in West Africa for three months, meaning I should be back home by the beginning of December. However, I am already praying about staying longer and… entrusting it to the Lord.
(Don’t tell my mom.)
(Don’t tell my mom.)
If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, I will go back in two more months. I am a champion fretter, but I leap into prayer as soon as I begin thinking about the future, and trust that if He wants me to be here, He will tell me and keep me in the shadow of His wings.
(I have told Him I am spectacularly deaf to His promptings, that I am blind to his hand guiding me, and that I really don’t have a fleece, so if he could provide one of those and explain the whole dew experiment to me, that’d be great as well.)
If you’d like to join me on my bizarre adventure here, you can favourite this website, or you can click on the blue ‘Join this site’ link to the right of this post. Please check in every so often, read about what’s going on in Mali
