I’m not sure where the programming came from. Blame Disney and my favorite princesses’ day dreams of adventure, blame feminism in my public education and type A personality, blame my Christian university that told me I could dream big, because my God is bigger.
Unexpectedly, after my annual beach week vacation, I resigned from my job. The decision itself was a tumultuous few days of prayer, tears, and acceptance. Post decision, I told myself I’d give myself time, to think, pray, and seek God’s will.
I searched craigslist, indeed, and other job posting sites. I daydreamed about what I was interested in, and pictured my passions coming together.
Throughout my graduate education I’ve felt called to counsel missionaries. During my second intensive I heard about the need for those brave soldiers at the front lines. This passion/desire never diminished. It was paused when there were no locations near me. I even met with a few professionals in the field, who praised my interest, verified the need, and stressed the importance of living overseas long term to be able to relate to them. Basically, doors shut in my face. This dream was on pause while I sought for an internship.
Finally, with God’s help and providence I graduated with all of the hours that I needed (plus one!).
Though I doubt people who are disciplined in prayer brag about it, it is definitely one of my weakest disciplines. Which, it should be easier given my proclivity for talking, but its different when you’re talking to the creator of the universe and you can’t always sense His presence.
But, there have been a few moments when I have monumental prayer moments. Usually over fairly large decisions in my life. I had another recently.
I was running on the treadmill, wrestling with these feelings. I know this is a godly calling on my life. It fits. I love languages and travel. I don’t want to tell them to stay on the field. I want to hold their hands, hold their tears and hurts as they confess how hard their life is. I want to tell them that it is okay, that God loves them, and normalize their feelings. I want to be there with them. Like it breaks my heart to think of them in pain alone, when life is hard enough being a Christian not on the mission field. I crave being used by God.
While running, I wondered if this is a dream I’ve ever truly surrendered. I realized that I’ve put it on pause and the flame of passion has returned, but that I’ve never completely given it to God. So, in spunky words in my head, I told God He could have it. I told Him that I was done wrestling with the tears and anxieties. I told Him, that if it wasn’t truly “about me” that He would do whatever He wanted, whenever He wanted. I told Him that I was going to read His word to know what He wanted, but that He was also big enough to get through my tiny brain, so that I wouldn’t miss the bus. I gave it all to Him, and I was filled with incredible peace.
Of course that peace fades, I have to keep surrendering. We are living sacrifices that crawl off of the altar. This past weekend I confessed to my Husband that I felt like I’ve been benched. That everyone else is playing, there are spots open, there are needs, and I’m sitting on the bench, watching, waiting, looking for the coach to call me in.
So, I surrender again. I remember that moment. I remember that God is Great. I remember that He’s bigger than everything. I remember that it’s all about Him, and it’s not about me. I remember that He hears our prayers, and I keep going.