The past four months have been quite a journey for our family. At this point, I could write a 300-page book. Maybe I will one day, but a blog post will have to do for now. Let me just put it this way: There's not a "how to" manual when it comes to living on the mission field and there's especially not a manual on how to raise kids on the mission field. Maybe that's the book I need to start writing. Needless to say, we've dealt with our fair share of language barriers, culture shock, unexpected expenses, and more than our fair share of things not going according to plan. We've been hit with a lot, but yet, here we are. That's the beauty of God's calling. You can be hit a thousand times, but yet there's a passion-driven purpose so deep within you that you refuse to give in.
We've been attacked mentally, spiritually, emotionally, and financially. If it would have been up to us, we would have left. Everything was being challenged. Our marriage felt cold because we were too exhausted to invest in it. Our patience was short with our children because stress consumed us.
We doubted.
We questioned.
We looked at each other and wondered if we had just made the dumbest decision of our lives. We would be surrounded by people, but feel so alone. We knew people loved us here and at home, but no one knew what we were feeling. That overwhelming feeling of loneliness can be dangerous. As believers, we are promised a life where we know our Heavenly Father will never leave us nor forsake us. Deep down we knew that, but the enemy was fighting and we could not escape our flesh to trust in the truth of God's Word. Again, it's a dangerous place to be. I remember having a conversation with my mom where my voice had no life and no matter how much encouragement she spoke, my spirit could not receive it. I felt trapped in the reality of our situation and didn't have the strength to see beyond it. I couldn't see how God was teaching us...how he was molding us. I lived like a zombie. I went through the motions and began to tell myself that if I could just be numb to everything, then nothing could hurt me. I would have moments of happiness, but when a new day would start, it hit me all over again. At the time, I called it depression, but on the other side of it, I realize I was in the midst of spiritual warfare. I was being zapped of everything so I would't have the energy to fight back. I would look in the mirror and would not recognize the shell of a person I saw in the reflection. Who was she? She was not the strong woman that everyone kept telling her she was. She was worthless. She was a failure.
In a pile of self pity, I began to shake my head and say, "wait a minute." Before we left, God had been teaching me about the authority I have in Him over any and every situation. I had learned that if the enemy can make you forget that you possess authority through Christ Jesus, then he can cause you to think yourself into a dark hole of misery. I felt like I had been in a trance and I was beginning to snap out of it as God flooded my memory with what He had been teaching me prior to our move. Like a flood, tears ran down my face and I grabbed my Bible that hadn't been touched in weeks. I opened it and my eyes immediately fell on James 4:11... "Indeed we count them blessed who endure. You have heard of the perseverance of Job and seen the end intended by the Lord - that the Lord is very compassionate and merciful." I lost it. I ugly cried like nobody's business. That very day, Steven and I had a conversation about Job. We could in no way compare our struggles with his, but we identified with the feeling of things being taken from us left and right. We were thankful that we still had each other and our children, but we felt like we were being bullied all because we stepped out into what we felt God was calling us to do. God led me to that very passage to remind me to consider the story of Job again, but in a different light. He beckoned me to look at the story and see a man of perseverance. A man who, with all odds stacked against him, pressed onward. And he didn't just press onward...he did it with praise on his lips. The second part that got me was that the end of his story was just as God INTENDED. God spoke to my spirit very clearly in that moment and reminded me that I must let go of my ideas of how everything should play out and trust that the ending of our story will play out just as He intends. He then asked me, "Do you trust me?" In a blubbering mess on the floor, I declared, "Yes. I trust you." Immediately, the darkness that had engulfed me for weeks fled. I stood up and began to declare the word of the Lord over our household. I began to speak to the devil like he was an unwelcome house guest. I made him get out. Joy flooded my soul and I was ready to press forward.
A few days later, I felt like calling my Daddy. He's always a wealth of wisdom and I needed to hear from him. We had a wonderful conversation. He shared with me how mom had wanted him to call me after my conversation with her because she was worried. He told her he would call me when God moved on him to do so. In the meantime, he prayed. As he prayed, God dropped a word in his spirit the very same night I had my breakthrough. The scripture that came to him was, you guessed it, James 4:11. He used it in a message the following Wednesday at church. By the time I called him on Friday and shared everything with him, it was clear that God was keeping him from calling me so I could learn to lean on God for myself and not depend on my dad's advice. He spoke to me in love, reminding me that I was not a failure, and told me that he didn't raise a quitter. I laughed and agreed that I would not be a quitter. Before we hung up, he told me to pray the Lord's Prayer every day and really think about what each part of it means. He shared that the words, "give us this day our daily bread" is a calling to live by faith. The prayer doesn't ask God to provide for us for a month or even for a week, but just for that day. We must trust that He will give us that daily bread to sustain us both physically and spiritually. We just have to ask. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about moments when I wasn't sure what we would eat and my neighbor came unexpectedly knocking on our door with a plate of food in her hands. That was our daily bread. (Or I should say daily tortilla...) I hung up the phone strengthened and encouraged.
By the end of that week, our stuff was in route from the port to our house. After it was over, we were given a wonderfully refreshing trip home to the states for a few days. The ending of this very difficult time came just as God INTENDED. There will be more challenging times ahead, but God is equipping us. That's the beauty of a life sold out to Him.
