Uh... scary news – I have nearly two
months left of my African season. I can't believe how fast time has gone, and
I'm not sure how okay I am with how fast it will continue to go. I'm already
beginning to plan adventures after I arrive in London to visit with my dad and
some family before I head back to the states. While I am excited to see family
and be home, my heart isn't ready to leave this place, these people, or this
season. (I'm acting like I take off tomorrow - confessions of a missionary
drama queen)
But seriously. acca-believe it.
If I were to list things the Big Man has been
teaching me while being here, one of the top five would be that I need to be honest with myself and Him. What I’m
about to say may sound awful and only something a disturbed person would think
- but I'm not going off the deep end, promise!
Over the past month or so I've realized I've hated
saying certain things in my prayers:
"Dear Heavenly Father..."
"please forgive me for..."
"thank You for...."
"fill me with.."
"in Jesus' name..."
It's not that I don't want to address Him, ask
for forgiveness, thank Him, ask Him to fill me or close out with asking it on
behalf of His Son - but I've been fluently speaking this Christian-ese since I
was 6 years old. I say the same thing over and over. It becomes repetition and
loses its weight. I don't pray so that I can feel something out of it, but I
know something's up when those words taste like vinegar coming out of my mouth.
When I get married I hope my husband doesn't
have the same conversation with me every day. That’d be hecka boring. And
empty.
My prayers aren't the same all the time, but the
repetition of parts makes me mad.
He's
the Creator of the universe, and all I can give Him are the same words I said
yesterday? woof.
For some reason I can't stand calling
Him one out of three names I have for Him. The other morning I began writing in
my journal, "Mornin' lads!!" (yes.. I address all three - God, Jesus and Holy Spirit)
A
pinch of the problem…
I had the wonderful opportunity to go to Mto
Moyoni the other week in Jinja. I went for Transformation of the Heart week,
and let me tell ya, it sure was transforming! When I was there I was able to
experience the Lord in a new and fresh way. I figured out part of my problem. I
realized I had fallen victim to one of the biggest things I harp on with my
faith. I had temporarily lost part of the relational aspect of my faith and it
simply became religion.
“It’s a relationship, not a religion”
“It’s not about the rules or checking off the
box”
These things I’ve heard all my life and fully
believed, but without noticing I slipped right into religion. It wasn’t
intentional. I wasn’t at odds with God. I was doing my quiet times, I didn’t
feel like I was deliberately disobeying God with something (I know full well
what that feels like), I’m serving in Uganda as a missionary
– shouldn’t my relationship with God be nearly perfect? HA! Wrongo.
2 big lines I took away from Mto Moyoni:
“GOD CANNOT STOP LOVING YOU” & “It’s not about ministry, it’s about the heart”
I realized I got swept into the ministry and work
that I was doing that I lost touch of Who I was doing it for… Who sent me...
WHY He sent me… and who I am first, before a missionary: His daughter.
 |
| One of the 2 famous swings at Mto Moyoni. We stayed right on the Nile in those beautiful huts! |
About a month ago my friends and I went camping at
Fort Patiko. Due to poor planning and a nice judo-kick to the bag of eggs while
getting off the boda, we realized we didn’t bring enough water. In the morning
we were rationing what we had left and soon ran out. It was all that was on our
minds when we were about to make the hour ride home: WE. ARE. THIRSTY. I was
dreaming of ice-cold water. I was losing strength. When I was returning back to
the boda after retrieving my hat that flew off during the ride, Richard (our
boda boda) was laughing at my sad attempt to run. The hot sun was not helping.
Melissa and I must have asked Richard 12 times if there was a center with water
coming up. FINALLY we reached a center with relatively cold water, juice, and
soda. Ain't no juice or soda was going to quench my thrist. I knew what I needed. WATER. The instant I took the first few gulps it
was as if I had forgotten how thirsty I just was.
 |
| Climbed up to watch the sunrise at Fort Patiko. I was waiting for the Lion King intro song to bust out. [photo credit: Tabitha Tice] |
While struggling with lack of connection with the Lord
in my faith, I wasn’t sure what I needed. I didn’t know what was going on. It
just felt like I ran downstairs every morning, hopped up on the counter, asked
God for what I needed for that day, gave Him a kiss on the cheek, hopped down
and ran off. I was drinking temporarily satisfying juice. Not thirst-quenching
water.
But
not all of it.
I am still frustrated that I can communicate with
Him only through words that feel somehow empty to me at times. Maybe as my
relationship with Him grows, the weight to the words will as well? I’m a mess
haha trying to figure out something I have been engaged in the majority of my
life. This may sounds like word vomit (I'm good at that) actually written out, but it’s the current crazy melody in my head (=
Question of the day to Jesus:
Did you miss Your home (heaven) when You came to
earth?
[You must have... but did You ever daydream of instantly going back there? of walking through Target, embracing Your dad, eating yummy froyo?]
