Restless and Steady Heart

We stood over the hole in the ground, leaning forward to peer down to the bottom. "This is where they get their water?" We asked with wide eyes of disbelief.

Their water hole was more like a pit that kept collapsing again and again, forming a deeper and deeper funnel in the ground. At the bottom of the twenty foot funnel was a puddle of milky brown water about five feet in diameter with leaves and dirt floating around in it. 

We wouldn't bathe in it. They drink it. 

We watched a little girl no more than eight years old maneuver her way down into the hole with a plastic bucket on her head. She weaved back and forth, careful not to slip and fall into the hole. Since there was no place to stand at the bottom, a log had been laid across the water. She gently stepped on the log, caught her balance, and then dipped her bucket into the water. She picked out the leaves and flicked out small floaters. Then she delicately climbed back out of the hole with the bucket balanced on her head. She had obviously done this whole thing a few times before. 

We watched in speechlessness. In that moment, I felt a flutter of emotions. One one hand, I was absolutely appalled at the situation: the filth, the obvious health concerns, and the injustice of this world that people don't even have clean water to drink. On the other hand, something about the whole thing was strangely beautiful. It was like I was seeing African life exposed in a way that not everyone gets to see everyday. The moment in and of itself was peaceful. It was just us and this young, beautiful girl at the water. We watched her quietly do what she does every day - gather water for her family. Her steps were steady, her arms were strong, her eyes were calm. And for just a moment, what feels so normal for her felt normal for me, too. 

A paradox of emotion. Disgust and peace. Unacceptable, yet completely normal. 

I feel these paradoxes of emotion quite frequently in Africa. Another example is one I have already written of, the delivery I experienced in the village of Bezerki. I was so excited to delivery a baby in Burkina, yet so horrified at how the delivery was performed. It was both the best and worst delivery I have ever been a part of. A paradox once again. 

But the paradoxes did not stop after I left Burkina. In fact, they only intensified. I was and am currently experiencing the greatest of all paradoxes of emotions.

After my trip to Burkina and the commitment I made to serve there full time, I felt overflowed with gratitude. I couldn't say thank you to the Lord enough for how he has brought me to this place. Just a few years ago, I had nothing but a map of the whole world and an open heart. Now, he has given me a  team, a place to go, and a people to love and serve. Words could not express my thankfulness, and many tears wetted his feet. 

I was also filled with excitement. This adventure-seeker is moving to Africa! My heart skips and jumps with joy when I think about this journey of a lifetime that I am about to embark upon by moving to another culture, one that fascinates and thrills me. 

However, these strong feelings of gratitude and excitement were equally partnered with the sensation of a dense rock at the bottom of my stomach. I could literally feel it there, weighing me down and causing physical pain. The enemy hates our obedience to the Father, and he attacks strongly when we do.

Fear, doubt, insecurity, inadequacy. These were the rocks in the bottom of my stomach. My mind raced. Can I learn a foreign language well enough to make friends and share Christ? Can I really learn the African culture well enough to communicate the gospel in a culturally appropriate way? Am I really able to be the hands and feet of Jesus in a place so foreign to me? Am I strong enough to leave my friends and family and everything familiar to move to Africa? Are people right when they say I should just stay in America and do mission work here? Do I have what it takes to be a nurse in Burkina? Am I really even needed? 

That last question plagued me more than anything else. I don't know how to explain it except that the enemy knows my weaknesses better than I do, and he festers with my need to be needed. Somewhere deep down, I have the desire to be a hero. I want to go to a place with a significant need, and then I want to come in and save the day. I am tempted to apply this need to be needed to mission work. 

And so I brought all these crazy emotions to the Lord. I brought him my happiness and excitement along with all my fears and doubts. I laid them side by side at his feet, and I saw him pick up each fear, doubt, and insecurity one by one. He told me that I didn't need to hold onto them any longer, and that he would take care of them for me. (I later learned that he just threw them away anyway.) Then he spoke truth over all the lies: "I am with you always." "My presence will go with you and I will give you rest." "I will finish the work I began in you." "I delight in you."

"Where is your focus fixed?" He seemed to ask me. I saw that I was looking at my own hands and feet. "Lift your eyes," he reminded me, and when I looked into his eyes, all my fears were scattered like darkness flees from the light. I saw deep, deep love in his eyes, and fear cannot remain where love abides. 

"But am I needed, Lord?" I asked because I couldn't seem to let this one thought go. 

"No." He answered. "You are not. Only I am needed."

The truth of his words instantly softened my heart and washed over it like a cleansing rain. Only Christ is needed, not me. If I go to Africa feeling like I am needed there, what dangerous ground I will be treading. The truth is, I do not want to be needed. I want to be completely dependent on Christ for absolutely everything. Mission work is not about going in to save the day with all our skills, programs, and plans. Instead of missions being about plans, it is about relationships. Instead of implementing programs, it is dreaming dreams. Instead of being a hero, it is being a friend. Instead of bringing programs, it is bringing self. The more I prepare to be a missionary, the more I realize that missions is simply living life and walking alongside people in community, making friends, serving and loving others, and sharing Jesus along the way. 

I hear people say that we are all missionaries, and I have even said it myself. But now it makes sense. Because missions is not about moving to Africa; it is about sharing Christ in the place God has placed you. For some it is Africa, for others it is the prisons or the bars or the next door neighbors. 

Therefore, I am officially not going to Africa to be a hero. I am simply going to live among the Africans and be the most African that I can be in order to somehow be an incarnation of Christ in a foreign culture. After all, isn't that what Jesus did for us? He left the comforts of his home in heaven to dwell in poverty among men. I want to follow in his footsteps, and this is the best way I know how to obey. 

I don't have some special call to be a missionary. Like Abram, God has invited me to "get up and go to the land I will show you." The land he has shown me is Burkina, and I am packing my bags even though I don't have very much of a plan. So it's really not that much of a call. It is more of an invitation. And I am saying yes.

So this is the greatest paradox of all: my restless and steady heart. My heart is restless because I can't wait to get to Africa. I am filled with excitement, adventure, and overwhelming joy. At the same time, fears still creep back in as the reality of what I am about to do settles in. There will be a lot of change as I leave what I know for a place where I don't know the language and have very few friends. But in all these crazy emotions, one thing remains at the foundation - the faithful love and grace of Christ, who has promised that he will be with me and who has proven again and again that he is worthy of my complete trust. That is unshakable, and it steadies my restless heart. 

This bridge of this song called "Christ is enough" has been playing in my head and heart ever since my last few days in Burkina:

I have decided to follow Jesus

no turning back

no turning back

The cross before me, the world behind me

no turning back

no turning back 

In reading this, I hope that you notice something. I am no different from you. I have excitement about what God is doing in my future, but I am not immune to fear and doubt. I have paradoxes in my heart - joys and fears side by side. But you know what? I am thankful for those emotions because they take me to the feet of Jesus, where I experience his faithfulness and grace in a way that can only occur when I feel so weak. 

I hope you also realize that my call is not that different from yours. My call is not to Africa, it is to Christ. My invitation is to Africa, but we all have an invitation to join God in his work where he has shown us to go. God has shown me the land of Burkina, and I will follow him there. What land is he showing you, and what are you doing to obey? 

There will be crazy emotions. There will be paradoxes. There will be attacks from the enemy and opposition that hurts. In all this, there is a steady foundation when we gaze into the eyes of Christ and find deep, deep love there. There is an invitation, and trust me, you want to RSVP with a definite yes and a restless, steady heart.