Sometimes Things Are Hard

Ugh. Sometimes on the mission field you soar, and sometimes you hit the wall. We have done the latter, folks. It's nothing specific. There's no giant tragedy or drama. Nothing tangible or terrible is wrong, but things are also just not right. Not easy. Not feeling happy happy. Last year at this time we were kindasorta just starting to get over our initial culture shock and find our sea legs (mission field legs?). I don't know why or what exactly happened, but somehow the waves of everyday life have caused us to feel off kilter again. Yo ho ho, a pirate's life for us.

Thankfully, we understand that this happens sometimes, no matter where you are or what you're doing. It's part of life. We've done it before. We'll do it again. God's promises are no less real in the tough times than they are in the easy ones. We're just finding this especially challenging because it is hard enough to proceed without equilibrium when you are on home turf, but even more so when the world around you still feels so foreign.

Learning a language is rough. Learning a culture is rough. Working in a place that has some core values which are pretty different from yours is rough. Watching your loved ones give their all and still struggle is rough. Still struggling yourself after you've given your all is rough. The quicksand of one rough thing after another is... well, rough. (Are you sensing a theme?) Perhaps roughest of all is that underneath all of the other stuff is the endless throb of, "You're not making a difference... you're not making a difference... you're not making a difference..."

That really sucks.

Honestly, it would all be enough - all of the changes and challenges, all of the heartache and helplessness, all of the struggle and strife - if we just didn't feel like our work was for nothing. I know that's a lie from Satan, and that Satan is a busybody and a poopyhead. I know God wouldn't send us somewhere where our efforts would be wasted. I know that we're planting seeds and watering what other people have planted. I know that God honors and uses even our most feeble of efforts, and He promises to use the foolish to confound the wise. But, by golly feeling foolish is getting awfully old, and our efforts do seem pretty darn feeble right now.

So, um... this is where I sum things up in a really cool way, and tie a scripture bow on everything to make it all sunshine. Sorry, the rainy season has lasted longer than usual, so I'm even all out of sunshine these days. At least I still have the Word. God said in Zechariah 4:10 that He doesn't despise humble beginnings, but rejoices to see the work begin.

Oh, Lord Jesus - sometimes it feels like we're at more of an ending than a beginning, but I know you know more than we do. I can at least faintly recall the feelings of hope you planted long ago, and the glimpses you gave which told us we'd be fruitful for your glory on the mission field. I guess that means there's more work to do, 'cause I know you don't lie.

I can't say that I'm rejoicing much these days over the work you've started through us, either. For now it will have to be enough to know that you are rejoicing. I'll have to abide in the idea of you boogying in Heaven over the oh-so humble and messy beginnings it feels like we're slogging through. After all, that's what your Word promises that you're doing.

We desired that our lives would make you happy. Would make you smile. Would make you rejoice. That's all we ever wanted, even more than fruitfulness that we could count and quantify and package into neat little boxes that make us feel good. Thanks for the reminder that we're doing what we said we wanted, even if it doesn't always feel that way. I just have one request - turn up the music a bit louder, would you? I could stand a bit of dancing right now.