I knew this Thanksgiving break in Canada would
be a blur. I knew that I’d struggle to remember what I did yesterday and
certainly where I was. You see,
visiting four friends in eight days and being in five different cities can be
quite the whirlwind. I kind of expected to switch into my default “go” mindset
and go… go and love people, go and listen to friends, go and see their worlds,
go and reminisce memories and create new ones… go, go, go.
And while I have been “going” quite
non-stop, I’ve also been blessed with time to “stay” and slow down. I’ve
noticed that being away from Illinois and my friends there and my surroundings
that have become so familiar, has allowed me engage my semester from a distance
and actually process what I’ve been learning… what God has been teaching me
this semester. So far, I’ve been able to pinpoint three main things.
1) Once again, I’ve seen a lack of joy in
my life. I can look back on this semester and see where I’ve failed to be
content. Oh, and I’ve realized that it’s quite easy to justify. “It’s been a
really hard semester,” I explain. That simple sentence does bring a rush of emotions, because quite honestly, it has been a rough semester. But even as
the words are out my mouth, I am convicted by the complacency that dangerously
allows me to slip into a pity party. I’m reminded of a friend’s blog… he
admitted that pity was easier to feel than grief—that it’s easier to wallow in
pity than allow Jesus to sit through our pain with us. Oh, how those words
resonate so clearly with the state of my heart. I’ve struggled to find my joy
in Christ, choosing to look back at “the good ol’ days” or urging myself to plan
and anticipate “the days to come.” I’ve been so eager to fast-forward OR
rewind, that I’ve failed to see God bidding me to sit… to be still. Because
when he does beckon me to join him in
stillness, I’m reluctant to sit through sadness… I rather sink in pity… because
grief feels so weak, so crippling, and I hate feeling so weak.
But when I listen to the still small voice
rushing through me as a comforting whisper, I must release my grip on this senseless and selfish pity. Like Paul,
I have to cling to the secret… knowing that I can be content in wealth and in
want because I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
2) I’ve noticed my reluctance to “settle
down” or to “put roots in.” I blame it on my third culture kid (TCK) complex,
but really, knowing its laziness and fear. I don’t bloom where I’m planted,
simply because I don’t like where
I’ve been planted or because I don’t feel… planted. I came to the United States telling myself that I’d only be
here long enough to get a degree and then before the ink had dried on the
diploma I’d be boarding my first plane going anywhere… outside of America. I
told myself that I didn’t have anything against
the United States, per se; I just preferred
to live elsewhere. But I’ve learned that what I thought I knew about myself just isn’t correct. God has revealed
prejudices and a tendency to judge in me. I’ve been reluctant to invest in
certain friendships that may take more work because I don’t think I’ll be here
much longer. I withhold love and friendship, because I’m scared of another
person leaving me… or because I don’t want to see the look on their faces when
I leave. And I try to downplay this fact by blaming my TCK upbringing… after
all, how constant could I even expect friendships to be?
Yet, I was on a retreat recently and was
having a conversation about this topic with someone I had only met one other
time. He stopped and said, “Viv, you have to live and love like you’ll be here
forever.” My mind instantly rejected that thought. I’ve never thought I’d be anywhere
forever. My thoughts swirled… Like I’ll be “here” forever. This current “here,”
however, turned out to be America… Illinois… Champaign-Urbana. Did I fear
growing attached to this place that I’ve spent the last year and a half at? Was
I refraining from too many ties to make it easier to pick up and go at the
first sight of a tassel and diploma? Am I hesitant to feel “home” in America,
stubbornly clinging to Colombia?
I sense the necessity to finally let myself
settle. Instead of fighting the feeling of “home” in America, I need to embrace
it. I can’t spend my energy fighting attachment.
3) God has forced me to release my fierce
grip on my dreams and passions… he’s asked me to give him my deepest desires to
work with the poor overseas, and let him reshape them. He’s asked me to let him
shape my understanding of poverty and to re-imagine my role in this massive,
beautiful, divine plan of redemption and justice.
When I lived and served in Colombia, I
struggled to come to terms with God’s goodness and mercy when I saw the poor
surrounding me. This frustration and confusion often would motivate me to go
and be with the poor. I’d go on all
of our school’s service days, I looked forward to service trips and would fit
loving the poor—both through time and resources—into my schedule. It was there,
in those moments when I wondered if I’d come home with lice or knowing that I’d
have to throw those clothes away, that I knew
God was working. I could see it because I could feel it. I could touch the kids he hugged. I could kiss the
children who were fatherless, yet had a heavenly Father. I was able to be the
hands and feet of Jesus with my own hands
and feet. Did I still question God’s justice? Absolutely. But somehow, it
was more “bearable” being able to channel my questions into action.
However, living in the USA has removed me
miles away from that lifestyle… a lifetime away. I’ve cried through videos and
movies displaying the world’s most vulnerable. I fight the urge to pick up and
go daily. I struggle to be still when
God seems to be so still. I cry out and ask God where his justice is… I ask him
to reveal his goodness to them
because He’s certainly poured it out on me.
And I feel powerless. I know that
poverty exists in America—trust me, I
know this. But I’m so removed from
it… it isn’t as near to me when I’m in Champaign-Urbana as when I was in Colombia.
And I fear that when I’m not busy loving and serving the poor, I’m losing my
passion and becoming cold and indifferent.
Instead, I’ve found that instead of calling
me to busily pour out my life, time and resources in this season, God has been asking me to sit still… Behold his
majesty and sit still in total surrender.
Even as I write this post, thoughts rush
through my heart… wondering who will happen to stumble upon this page and who
will sit still and read through the entirety of this novel-like post. I feel
slightly uneasy, but I know that when I’m learning something, I must share it. Dear friends, if you read
this, please continue to lift me up in prayers… and thank God that he isn’t
quite finished with me yet :).
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