My body froze and my brain filled with expletives. I couldn’t tell if the motorcycle had just hit us, but the driver was yelling at me. I managed to put my borrowed vehicle in park. I looked to the back seat to make sure my two boys were okay, then very cautiously got out of the car, very unsure if that was the right thing to do.
The motorcycle driver was yelling at me.
“What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
His English was excellent. My brain just wasn’t computing what he was saying.
Frustrated, he repeated himself, explaining that I did not use my turn signal appropriately. I couldn’t remember the moments before, as I started turning the sharp turn toward our gate from the opposite side of the road that I am used to driving on.
“I’m sorry. Is your bike okay?”
It was all I could get out. I couldn’t function well enough to inquire if he or his passenger were okay.
“Yes, it is just a scratch.”
A scratch? Does that mean I managed to get my teammates vehicle scratched also?
I couldn’t look.
I realized my friend was standing at the gate, waiting to open it for us. The motorcyclist drove away. We exchanged some words that I can’t remember. I drove the car up the driveway the second building on the property, where our home was located.
That’s when it started raining, and I remembered why I was rushing to get home in the first place. The laundry. Bed sheets and clothes were hanging outside to dry, and now it was raining. I rushed to get my two boys inside, along with the laundry and the groceries in the back of the car. The groceries that did not come from the market I was expecting to purchase them from, because when I showed up at the usual Tuesday vegetable market, I discovered it had been disbanded.
I started to feel anger that my husband had left me in that situation. But he was busy getting vaccinated against rabies. Because when we gave up our dryer, our knowledge of how to properly handle traffic incidents, and familiar grocery stores, we said yes to living in an area where dogs are starving and treated terribly and therefore, attack people. We said yes to the risk of rabies.
Soli Deo gloria?
I began peeling oranges that were actually orange, wondering if my boys would get sick from these, too. I opened a package of expensive, imported salami for them, wondering if I would find maggots on the meat. I opened two small rationed packages of pretzels that had come from the United States. I wondered, Do they have any idea what a luxurious lunch they are about to eat?
I realized I was shaking. I still had wet laundry all over our living room floor and groceries to put away. At least the boys were content with their lunch.
That wasn’t even an abnormal day. It was just a typical Tuesday.
And we aren’t even living in the hard place yet, I thought.
We were in our contingency home in the tourist town that caters to Westerners, where overpriced cheese and butter are usually available. Where food can be delivered if you don’t feel like cooking. Where we may not have a dryer, but we have a washing machine. And a shower. And a flushing toilet.
All of that would soon go away. That home was just the Sometimes Home.
I didn’t know how I would make it. How would I survive There if I am barely getting by Here, I internally inquired.
I recalled an article I read earlier that morning about the people living There, who are drinking water contaminated with oil, and are seeing an increase in babies being born with congenital defects. Where people are dying from starvation, dehydration, cholera, and malaria. The same people that had to flee their home country due to war and extreme violence, who went There for what? A slower death? Bullets seem merciful in comparison.
I couldn’t seem to remember why we spent five years fighting to step into that.
If I felt that way before we had even moved There, how would I feel in three months? In six? I felt like it would only be by God’s grace that I would survive on the mission field more than a year.
The Spirit reminded me that bullets are only merciful when you know Jesus.
Abba, I need you to hear this today,
“Why, O Lord, do you stand far away?
Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?”
What has this continent done to deserve such pain and trial, Lord?
So many people do not even support those that cause chaos.
Why must so many suffer, Lord?
“How long, O Lord, will you look on?”
Rescue these places from their destruction;
rescue their precious lives from disease, war, famine, and endless injustice.
Be gracious to me, Father, Your unqualified servant.
Be gracious to them, Father, the ones who have yet to hear Your truth.
“Teach me Your way, O Lord…Unite my heart to fear Your name.”
Not disease, not the unknown, not the seemingly impossible, but Your Name Only.
Your ways are surely higher than my own, Abba.
I understand so little, and feel frustration due to my finite, human perspective.
But You see it all. You know it all. And You hold it all in Your hands.
A Perfect Judge, You are.
“Create in me a clean Heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”
Use this broken vessel to declare Your Glory in this place.
Great are You, Lord.
“I give thanks, to You O Lord my God, with my whole heart.”
I choose to trust You, the maker of heaven and earth.
“Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
Quotations taken from Psalm 10 Psalm 35, Psalm 86, Psalm 51 and Matthew 6 (ESV).
What chaos are you needing to bring before the Lord today? What laments do you need to lay at the feet of Jesus? I want to invite you to worship and wonder.
For further study, consider reading Psalm 86. For a general introduction to lament, read Lament: Part I here, if you haven’t already. You can also download this free guide for lament here.
And feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below.
Faithfully,
P.S. The car was fine.
Joy From Fear 