This Wild Journey

The Joy of Easter is real and it is wonderful. The hope that we have because Jesus our Savior came to earth, lived a sinless life that we never could, and took on all our sins on the cross to make us holy and righteous… That should give us all immense peace and joy. But I confess that I don’t live in that joy every day like I want to. There was a prayer of confession led by a dear friend at our Easter service this morning. It really struck me, so I wanted to share it here.

“Loving God, we confess that at times we do not share in the joy of the resurrection but are caught in the worries of this world. We confess that we do not always live in the spirit of new life, but remain discontent, grumbling and anxious. Forgive us for not sharing in the Good News. Forgive us when we find it more comfortable to worry and complain than to risk the joy and encouragement of new life in Christ. Call us back to Your ways, O God, to seek hope and reconciliation, restoration and peace. In the name of the Risen Christ we pray. Amen.”

Happy Easter. The LORD is Risen indeed!

“We have to do the tree!”

This was the overwhelming majority response when I suggested, a few days into November, that maybe we wouldn’t do the tree on the wall this year. I just felt too spent that day to put forth the effort, only to take it down and get out the Christmas decorations in a few weeks. But clearly it was important to them. Every November for many many years our family has put up a paper tree on the wall or window in whatever house or country we’ve lived in. Then we trace everyone’s hands (or paws) and cut out a bunch of them as leaves to go on the tree, with things we’re thankful for written on them. We continue to add to the tree all month, until fall colored hands liven up the wall.

Being grateful is something that I know is important. I know it is healthy. I know it is right. But it is not always easy. When I feel good, it is much easier to be thankful. When I am sick, in pain, lonely or depressed, sometimes the only thing I can think of to be thankful for is something I can just as easily breathe a complaint about. I’m thankful for tacos. I wish we had black beans instead of red ones today. I’m thankful for coffee. Wish mine was warmer. I’m thankful for our dog. It’d be nice if someone would bathe him…and on and on.

How do I get out of this rut? I really spent time contemplating that this morning. How can I cultivate a heart of gratitude even on the hard days, or in the hard seasons?

The only thing I came up with is preaching truth to myself. My hope is only Jesus. He gives me everything I need. He is with me. There is always hope. He is working for my good and His glory in all things. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. As I bring my requests to him–with thanksgiving–the peace that passes all understanding guards my heart and mind. He is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. My inheritance in Christ is immeasurably more than I can imagine, and it can never be taken from me. His Spirit is at work in my life and the lives of those I love. His steadfast love endures forever. He will never leave nor forsake me. He has me here, in my daily circumstances, for such a time as this. I am victorious in Him.

Seriously, that is the only way I can think of to spark gratitude when sinking low. It seemed to work for Paul. He was in prison, he praised the Lord. He was in pain, he wrote of God’s amazing comfort. He was feeling dejected, he exhorted others to live into their full potential in Christ, with compassionate hearts, humility, meekness, and patience. Paul always seemed to find an attitude of thankfulness no matter what his circumstances were. He found a way to rejoice in the Lord. What an amazing example!

I want to be like that too. I’m thankful my kids didn’t let me give up the tree on the wall this year. A heart of gratitude is a precious and beautiful thing, even–and maybe especially–on the hard days.

“Ok, just type ‘alive.’ Nothing else. Just let me know you’re breathing!”

Community. It’s a beautiful and complicated thing. It’s wonderful to have people who care, people who check in (and won’t give up until they’re sure you are alive!), ones you can count on if you’re in a trial, or if you need a cup of sugar. We have learned a lot about community these past 7 years of being part of the “going” of missions. First is that it is constantly changing, as far as the physically present community that surrounds us. The hellos can be awkward and hard, and the goodbyes infinitely harder. Maybe that’s a good thing. These people who come and go are part of God’s good plan for our lives. We usually don’t step out of a community the same people that we were when we first entered into it.

This past summer we experienced an exodus of the community as we’d known it here at Tenwek. Many we will see again, some we might not, but all have left an imprint on us. As the kids and I traveled back to North Carolina, we also experienced the blessing of being reminded of the wonderful community of family and friends we still have there. It is amazing how God orchestrated each of us to feel his presence through community in the short time we were back. Whether it was through people helping us, or just making the time to be with us, it was really a gift. 

God created us for community. Real live people doing real life together. Being mostly an introvert, I would say I mostly recharge by spending time alone. So, at times, I have to force myself to reach out and spend time with others. The thing is that I always think back on a gathering with a full and happy heart. Hearing encouragement, laughing together, eating and praying, sharing burdens together—it’s a necessity of life. Maybe it’s even a way God works out the gospel in our lives. Interactions with other humans are not always easy. They are often messy as we all have our own assumptions and notions to deal with. But working through differences teaches us more about God’s infinite mercy and patience with us! 

As I reflect back on us being back in Kenya another year, being sent by and then serving alongside some very special people on both sides of the ocean, I realize God’s hand of provision of community has been one of our greatest gifts. We are not alone. We have Him. We have each other. And that is so good.