Excuse Me While I Get Naked

Hello All,
Well now has come the inevitable point where I choose to sugarcoat or be real with you, my readers. I pretty much guessed that at some point I would have to make a tough call as to what should be public reading and what I should keep to myself, but the more I look at it, the more I realize that if I can be transparent in the times that are sunny and golden (or at least in the past and thus easier to bear in retrospect), I should also be transparent in times of struggle. I am a human after all. I have been avoiding updating because I don't really want to face truth and because I don't know what to say exactly. So, deep sighing. . .here it goes.

I have been here for two and a half days now, and I mildly feel as if the rug has been yanked from under me. It's disheartening and sobering to say the least. For any of you that know me (whether intimately or merely as an acquaintance), you know that for the past several years (since 2007 really), I have been obsessed with Honduras. Even that seems like an understatement. When I came here for the first time, I immediately felt like it was home; I felt called here. And that trip completely changed my life--my ideas of the future, my conviction of what God had in store for me, and the desires of my heart. Every time I have been in Honduras, I have learned so much about myself, God's nature, and His plans. This trip--my fourth--is no exception. Everyone that knows me automatically associates me with Honduras, and any time someone wants to talk about what's most important to me, in addition to God, Honduras is always in the mix.

I knew that this summer would be a bit different. I'm only here with Manos Extendidas for 19 days in total, and I don't really have a concrete "purpose" in being here at least until my volunteer position. Furthermore, I knew it would be different because Alvin and his family are in the States for the entire summer--I'm not likely to see them at all this summer. However, God guided me to this place, so I know that He has a purpose even when I can't see it.

So, now that I've been skirting for a few paragraphs, let me just get naked and be real: I am struggling here in a way that I did not expect. I knew at some point that I was going to have to lose Honduras--or at least what it has come to mean to me. I constantly say that Honduras is home while that quiet Voice in the back of my mind every time says, "But, Sarah, I am your home." I know that realistically as Christians, we don't have homes. We weren't called to fit into a culture or lifestyle here. This is difficult for me. It was difficult when I first realized this fact when I left home after I graduated to work in North Carolina, and it's difficult now. Honduras had been my saving grace from the scary fact that the only home I really have is in God's will. But, now, it is not. It is difficult to describe, and I'll likely skip the details, but I am reaching a place where I am questioning everything and realizing that I have no concrete answers--only a Father who loves me who I know I can trust. It is hard to be stripped of the very thing that captured your heart, of the very place that made God real for you. But I know that it is a necessary refining.

I knew that this summer was going to be one of exceptional stretching. . .but the reality of this stretching is unbelievable. I am learning, quite literally, to surrender to God every second of every day, taking each moment as an opportunity--far greater even, a necessity--of dependence on God. It is incredibly painful because I feel as if I am losing everything--my home, my security, and several concrete ideas of my future. And what I am left with demands that I be vulnerable and honest, sharing openly when all I want to do is run away or build walls of protection so that I won't get hurt.

If we are going back to the pregnancy word and metaphor, I am most definitely in labor. This isn't even just a spiritual thing any more. I am having difficulty sleeping. I don't really feel like eating because I just feel a dull sickness--a weight more than anything, like someone is constantly sitting on me. And I am an emotional wreck, about to burst into tears at any moment--often the most ridiculous moments. I wonder how pregnant, birthing women do it--bare it all for the sake of their child. When you're in labor, I am told, you end up doing things involuntarily in front of others that you would never choose to do in any other circumstance. You lose all dignity. Well, in a matter of speaking, that's where I am as well. I've never been good at hiding anything, but I am especially now unable to maintain my composure. Realistically, it's pretty hilarious. Personally, it's mortifying.

God's words are still true though. He is still showing me things even if they seem so foreign from what I would have expected. He keeps saying "many nations." He keeps echoing impending roots--where, now, I have no idea. Once again, I am back in Isaiah 26: We're in no hurry, God. We're content to linger in the path sign-posted with your decisions. . . . O God, they begged you for help when they were in trouble, when they were in so heavy they could barely whisper a prayer. I am also back to my old friend, Romans 8: We're also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. . . . Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. And finally Jeremiah 29 offers comfort as well: I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out--plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. "When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I'll listen. When you come looking for me, you'll find me. Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I'll make sure you won't be disappointed."

So, at the risk of being really transparent, I feel it appropriate to include an excerpt from my own personal journal to best express where I am:

"God, please take it all. . . . I am clueless. I know nothing. I don't want to hold onto anything. Send me wherever You desire. Let my life be poured out wherever Your will leads according to Your glory. Strip it all away. I gladly give it to You. It's just You and me. Nothing concrete except Your love. I trust You, God. I trust that whatever You have for me, however different from my own ideas, is Your best for my life and Your glory. . . .'Slow down. Take a deep breath. What's the hurry? Why wear yourself out? Just what are you after anyway?' -- Jeremiah 2 Talk about a conviction. God, I just want to be after you, waiting on You. Deal with me, God. I invite You into the intimate parts of my heart to see my worst and refine it with Your love. I have no answers. I have nothing, am nothing. I only ask in Your name for more of You and for the fruition of Your promises. . . . And so I wait. And I trust that He will keep my heart even when I feel the dangerous pain of vulnerability."

At any rate, all prayers are desperately appreciated. I'm a pretty big mess. Not that there's anything new about that. ;) Something about dependency demands brokenness. . .it's mildly disconcerting. :D

With transparent love and overwhelmed laugh-crying,
Sarah