I remember when I was sitting on a bus full of eager short-term missionaries like myself, headed to the remote river villages of the Shuar Indians who live along the Nangaritza. We had traveled for hours in a bus with no bathroom, and just when I thought we were getting closer to our destination, we approached this mudslide. I honestly do not know how we made it off that mountain (I think there were thousands of angels hoisting our frightened caravan on their shoulders across this sketchy path!).
I've never shown this picture to my dad, for obvious reasons, but I've kept it to remind me of what my Christian life continues to look like.
I've been teaching the Bible to teenagers for the past 20 years, and while I have loved the ministry God has placed in my lap, I feel as though I am on the brink of something else in the remaining "however long" years I have ahead.
I hear people talk about community work, and local church work, and while my heart reaches out to all of these ministries (emotionally and physically), I cannot ignore the pull to the nations that He planted in me 10 years ago.
You see, I don't stay up at night praying for things that are happening here in the United States. I pray for those things, but they don't keep me up. What keeps me awake are the prayers for the 14,000 boys who were sex-trafficked in the Dominican Republic last year, and the 4 who live now in the rescue home Blackbox has made for them. I pray at 3:30 every morning for the Wantakians of Pinji Mountain in Papua New Guinea, not because I want to be awake then, but this is evidently when the Lord wants me to pray for this people group; and He never misses a morning! I pray for the Shuar Indians who live along this river who do not yet know my Jesus; for Rosa, Amable, Archangel, Evaristo, and so many more who still live among 4 villages here with no believers. I pray for Roxana (who lost her son 4 years ago to a gang war), and the young mothers of Xela, in Guatemala. I pray for August, Nicholas, and Sylvan in Haiti. I pray for caregivers like Damien and Suyapa in the Dominican, and Ceferino in Mexico (the house parent for the child of my heart who lives there). I pray for the Syrian refugees who are daily loved by my friends with Forefront Experience. I pray for Pastor Manuel and Marco and all of the Quichua who minister to their own people in the mountains of Riobamba. I have hundreds of names that dance around in my head every day, because these are the people whose lives still draw me in. This is the only ministry I am certain of still...that I am to pray.
I don't know what the road ahead looks like for me in this upcoming new year. In my mind, it looks a lot like this muddy trail leading me to the edge of a cliff! I want to plan. I want to produce. I want to be a part of God's great vision for the world, yet all I seem to have are His words from Matthew 9: "Pray to the Lord of the harvest to send out workers".
I want to be His worker. I want to be in His fields! But all I have today is the call to pray, and that has to be enough for the planner and the producer in me.
You and I are standing at the edge of this cliff, spiritually. We really don't know what the new year holds. As cheesy as it may sound, we DO know the One who will get us off of this winding, steep, and slippery slope we call life, and take us to the place where the seeds of grain are just waiting to be watered for growth. All we're asked to do is pray and be ready to see the harvest He has been preparing. We are simply along for the ride.
And when I look at this road, all I can say is "I'm so glad I'm not driving!".
