As the roar of the engines filled my ears and my stomach dropped into my seat as the plane lifted from the ground, the woven strands tied around my ankle caught my eye, and I felt the tears begin to well.
Within these tiny patterned threads lay a piece of my heart 2020 felt like it had stolen – and I wondered, with deep grief, if I would ever get back. Yet, at the same time, this little souvenir that costs me merely cents on foreign soil during our last days on the field back in 2019, held a weighty promise from the Lord, a tiny whisper, that His story within me wasn’t over. So I tied it tightly to me, making a pact within myself to not take it off until I had seen the promise fulfilled – until I was back in the lands my heart yearned for – and never turned back.
I still to this day don’t have a lot of words for what it’s like to come back to the States after 11 months spent international in third world countries. But what I do know, is it changes you – it changed me – in a way that you can never unlearn. Time after time I hear alumni coming back with aching hearts that feel alone, unheard, misunderstood, disconnected from what the world tells them they should desire. But the true cry of their hearts lie in an awakening of their Spirit to a reality most of the world is asleep to. Our hearts rage at the devastation we have witnessed. They pour out with grief for injustice. And they’re exhausted by the pleading to those who could be a voice, who have the power to make a difference, to pay attention, to just open their eyes. The joy is insurmountable when amidst those the “important” call the “forgotten.” And equally so, the pain feels deeper and wider than the oceans separating you from them, upon returning to the world you once knew, in what feels like a lifetime before.
But even these words fall vastly short of the fire inside me I long to reflect. For it’s actually this same deep grief that has brought me boundless healing, wisdom, and gratitude, that I now get to be a part of giving away to others.
Like the two loaves and fish, He has taken my life and Blessed it. Broke it. Multiplied it. (Read about that here)
And it was this breaking that actually is what nourished it. This breaking is actually what has fulfilled it. This breaking is what made it whole.
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And then, the whisper. I heard it once more as we soared on the aluminum wings that would deliver my heart unto the promise. I knew this whisper, the one that said “There’s something significant here.” I pulled up the calendar on my phone and began adding up dates.
500.
Five zero zero. The exact number of days between when my feet left Ecuador soil to when they would touch down, for the first time international again, in Costa Rica.
As the pound of the stamp hit my passport, something in me came alive again. I looked up, out into this country I had never been before, and felt my hearts hushed murmur say, “This is it. We’re home.” Not because of these boarders and cities and peoples I knew so little about, but because of the truth of the promise of the King this place reminded me who I know so intimately much about. He is faithful. He is a promise keeper. He is good. And He still wasn’t done yet.
Our cab pulled up to the hostel and our arms were flooded by hugs. First the squad, then my squadmate and fellow leader, Josiah, followed by my squadmate (who is currently leading another squad) Katie – who excitedly came to teach for one of our trainings. And then, I did a double take and my heart lept with excitement, as I saw ANOTHER one of my squadmates, Jordan, come up the stairs, guitar in hand, ready to lead us in worship.
And that next night, the four of us, stood together in awe as we worshipped together against a breathtaking sunset backdrop, reminiscing on all of our times together. From our very own training camp in October 2018, through 15 countries, and now back out here together, now as leaders for our own squads. There is a kind of fullness and pureness and awe to that gratitude I’m unsure words will ever be able to capture.
500 days. And a promise made over and beyond and abundantly true.
500. A number that in the Bible signifies “wholeness” or “Holy from one end to another.” Words that I would have once never dreamed of using to describe my own life.
And now, two years later, this is the story I get to live every day. One of insane grace and mercy. One of wholeness, of Holy redemption written by a God who never ceases to show up bigger than my wildest dreams. A life, and a heart, made new.
“He has sent me [Jesus] to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, and provide for those who grieve — to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.
(Isaiah 61:1&3)
If you only know an “eventually” kind of God that lives up in the sky glaring down at you with judgement waiting to punish you after death – I beg you to interrogate what you’ve been told about who He is. Because there’s so, SO much more out there waiting for you. Because the God of my heart, who radically brought my life up out of devastating ashes into radiant splendor, is an “EVERY DAY” kind of God. One who shows up, who knows perfection yet chose us in our mess, who lowered and submitted Himself so He can walk WITH us, who came to save us and give us life abundant, not condemn us.
He is real. And He is alive.
And because of Him, I am made whole, Holy from end to end.
And so are you.
I loved every word of this! God is so good ??
I love this and I love you!!
I read a lot of blogs and this one hit something different. Thank you for your string of words like poetry, drawing us deep into your heart and tugging us along for your journey. It’s an honor to have a front row seat to the mighty ways the Lord is moving in and through you, sis.