For a long time, I struggled to believe that God could exist. He felt really big, and I felt like I had to figure it all out before I would be satisfied.
And I struggled and I wrestled and I questioned.
And then one day I got to this point where I decided that if God can be figured out completely in my tiny human brain, He’s not big enough.
I don’t want God to be so small that I understand Him in His entirety.
So how big is God? I don’t know for sure.
Too big to completely comprehend.
Too big to completely understand.
And that’s good. It’s better that way.
People often ask, how’s ministry going?
And the simplest answer is that it’s good and it’s hard.
It’s hard some days to sit in makeshift houses and hear people share the fear they have for the lives of their children, because their skin is darker than their neighbor’s.
It’s hard to walk through tiny alleyways covered in trash, seeing kids run barefoot and play in all of it.
It’s hard to sit across from men whose only source of income comes from construction, but only when there is construction to be done, and even still sometimes their bosses call immigration on payday to try to deport them instead of pay them.
It’s hard to hear the women share that half their babies are still in Haiti, and their husband passed 6 years ago, and now she’s stuck in the DR with half her heart and no source of income.
It’s hard to have the same conversation again and again in the Haitian community:
Why did you move here?
“For better opportunities.”
Have you found the opportunities you’re looking for?
“No.”
It’s hard when you realize many people, in every country, equate being a Christian to simply going to church.
Or that they don’t go to church because they don’t feel like they have nice enough clothes.
Or that they send their kids to church but stay home themselves–understanding somewhere deep inside that life with Jesus is good and they want their kids to have it, but not understanding the same good life awaits them too.
So where is God in all of it? In the hurt and heartache? In the broken homes and fear-filled communities? In the racism and discrimination?
Right there, in the middle of it. Doing I don’t always know what, but I know He’s there in it and He’s moving.
And He’s big. And He’s good. And He’s patient. And He’s just.
At the exact same time, we’ve had many conversations where people are encouraged by the Lord, and they desire to read their Bibles more, and they understand they don’t have to have their whole life in order before they go to church.
And we’ve had many conversations where people have accepted Christ for the first time! People who have said that they’d been waiting for someone to come and share with them about Jesus. People who grew up in one church or another and never knew that the gospel is about relationship with Jesus and not about earning a spot at the table in heaven.
So even with and even in all the hard realities, God is on the move in the Dominican Republic, in the Haitian communities, and in the hearts and lives of all those who have settled for a lukewarm faith for many years.
We’re coming to our last days here in the DR. We’re saying goodbyes to our translators that have become our friends. We’re wrapping up our days of house visits and English classes and getting ready to head to another debrief.
We’re creeping up on the halfway point on the race, which feels wild and impossible and at the same time, like it’s about time. Soon we’ll cross the threshold and have fewer days left on the race than we’ve completed, fewer countries left to go than we’ve been in already.
I have a lot of thoughts swirling around in my head about being halfway done, and I’ll probably put some to paper and share them next month at some point.
For now, please pray:
- for my team, Wild + Free. As we head into Panama we want to be faithful to where and how the Lord is leading. Pray that we would be attentive to the voice of the Lord and sensitive to the Spirit.
- for peace and comfort to cover the squad. For our hearts to be reminded why we said yes to the Race in the first place, and for our heads to be okay when the reason we continue to say yes inevitably changes.
- for me–for deeper faith, bigger trust, and an unshakeable hope in the One who holds every future and every past.
