It occurs to me that I’ve written several times over
the last several months that I’m in a season of seeking God’s strategies. The
reality of missions is that oftentimes we enter a situation with an idea or a
vision or a hope or a plan, and nothing goes according to that mental image or
our projections. I have had many different seasons of ministry that have all
looked very different, and in some ways, they haven’t seemed very cohesive.
That makes me all the more grateful for the people who have been so faithful in
believing in who I am as a person, who God is leading me to be, rather than
putting their faith only in what I do. I understand clearly that it’s much
easier to get behind a defined, detailed vision. We like to know that we’re
investing in something that makes sense, and believe me when I say that I
myself have struggled to believe that who I am is good soil because what I do
has seemed disjointed at times. What I can say, without regret, is that my
heart has always been set on obedience to God above all else even as I’ve been
frustrated at the lack of a clear path. At times, I have felt just a little bit
envious of those missionaries who set out to do something specific and then do
it. They develop the plan, they raise the funds, and then they put it all into
action and see measurable results. My story hasn’t really ever been like that.
But, I am learning that whatever I have walked—fruitful or not, purposeful or not, meandering or truly divine—has been an ongoing circumcision of the heart. I grew up being the good church girl. I was the person who was always available, always willing, and often thrust into doing things that were beyond what would normally be expected of someone my age. Because of often being told I was mature for my age and because of my ingrained personality, I have often demanded much more of myself than anyone else is demanding of me, or I have taught others to treat me as such by denying that I have needs. I have struggled with striving. I was the kid who cried over a B. I was the Christian kid who was always on some kind of a mission. And, for a long time, I didn’t know that I had permission to guard my heart or to say no. Much of my life story with God thus far has been an unraveling of beliefs I was either taught or that I absorbed myself. It has been a journey of unlearning—unlearning that I have to earn God’s love with my good ministry; unlearning that being a whole and healthy person can’t just consist of ticking off all the boxes of church attendance, Bible reading, and prayer; and unlearning the misconception that having needs within the Body of Christ makes you weak or unworthy of being used by God. I made a commitment before I became a missionary, after much internal processing with God and stripping of my own ego even then, that I would not be busy for the sake of being busy. Though I wouldn’t have put it into these words, I have been committed to the idea of respecting God’s no in my life and acknowledging that His no is protecting me somehow. For that reason, I have not rushed forward in these seasons that have felt like absolutely nothing is moving forward or producing fruit. I have continued to be faithful. I have continued to seek. But I have resisted jumping into something only to be able to justify my existence as a missionary.
It’s been extremely hard to be true to who I am in ministry, and I don’t know that I’ve passed that test with flying colors. Often, I have struggled with the expectations of others, my own projections of the expectations of others, and the cultural pressures I’ve encountered that I never expected. I have walked seasons of being so desperate for community and relationship in ministry that I have let aspects of myself slide for the benefit of others, or I have convinced myself that I don’t have enough anointing, authority, and spiritual strength and need to let someone else tell me who to be. Sadly, but at the same time, rightly, all of that has been only to find that many of the people I have internally placed on a pedestal are just as human and fallible and weak in some areas as I am. We’re all so in need of God’s divine favor, direction, and grace.
In September, I will complete eight years of living in Honduras and being a missionary, so I’ve been wondering and investigating what significance that number eight has in the Bible. What I have found is this: It means resurrection and regeneration. It means new life. If the seventh day is the day of completion and rest, the eighth day is about a new start. When God flooded the earth, He saved eight people to start over. (1 Peter 3:20) Eight also represents the circumcision of the heart (Genesis 17:10, Leviticus 12:3)—God’s cutting away all of those things that aren’t reflective of His heart or His strategy or His vision or who He wants us to be. When I look back over the last seven and half years, I see a lot of the ways that God has been whittling down the things in my life that weren’t healthy. Some of those things relate to not knowing how to have healthy boundaries and how to take care of the temple of the Holy Spirit within me. Some of those things were related to my personality and ego and my own desires to be validated by what I do. And, the greatest conclusion in my search for strategy has been this: I have reached the end of myself, and I have ended up exactly where I knew I always needed to be—the secret place of intimacy with the Father. The knowing that if He does not move, there is no other option. The acknowledgement that prayer and worship and ministering to His Person in relationship has to come first.
I have known with my head even before becoming a missionary that the key to it all is in relationship with the Holy Spirit and in putting Him and our relationship first. Before moving to Honduras and in listening to many messages from Heidi Baker even after moving, I learned that God can do more through our dependency and intimacy than He can ever do through our striving and strength. But it’s taken me a long time to transfer that from head knowledge to heart action. I’ve certainly had seasons of close intimacy with God and feeling Him direct my every move. So, it hasn’t been a situation of going through the motions. But, I have often deterred myself from making intercession and worship the be all, end all priority above all else because I’ve struggled with wanting to do, to produce, and to be able to tangibly justify my life in Honduras and my ministry. How do you measure the impact your worship has on the heavenlies? How do you quantify how your intercession is opening Kingdom doors for salvations and healings and transformations? How do you compose a PowerPoint presentation about your fruitfulness when your time is primarily spent seeking God’s face rather than giving, helping, and serving people?
Don’t get me wrong—the giving, helping, and serving is important. It’s not to be ignored or dismissed. It is vital to the Kingdom of God. However, it should be done from a place of being fueled in and directed by the secret place. Speaking from experience, the giving on human terms often does not lead to salvation, at least not necessarily in that the sower also harvests. The helping often causes dependency on we humans rather than dependency on God. And the serving can cause a ministry’s purpose to be de-railed when the needs of the people dictate the whole direction. We can take cues from the needs around us. Those needs are important. But, when ministry gets flipped upside down, and we forget that we are called to minister to the Person of God first, not only do we end up with nothing left to minister to the Person of God in relationship, we also end up having nothing of value with which to serve the people. When your heart is empty of love, giving is no longer a joy and a conviction as a result of relationship with our Heavenly Father but an obligation to resent. And, along those lines, we also don't want to teach dependency on us or a sense of entitlement or a victim attitude.
But, oftentimes, ministry is a merry-go-round spinning so fast that you can’t get off even enough to get your bearings. Raúl and I have maintained ourselves, and I can say that because I found Ladies Bible study and friends who have accepted me with so much love and understanding, I am in a much healthier place than I’ve been in in seasons past. But, I would also be lying if I said that we aren’t tired. The reality is that every day we are presented with needs. Every day, we are placed in the complicated position of discerning what is helping and what is hurting. And, without the Holy Spirit, it’s an impossible task. I can’t say that we always get it right, and I’ll be the first to say that I usually don’t make good decisions under pressure. And, more often than I’d like to admit, we’re also facing disappointments, betrayals, and sorting out the emotions after we’ve given and then been mistreated. Even if we entered into it with an attitude of giving as unto the Lord and not unto solely unto others, it still hurts. So, we are in need of a reset, a refill, and an encounter with the love of the Father.
It’s a relief to me that those who have been praying for us feel like this upcoming trip to the States will be just that. And, in my own time with God, I also have felt like this will be a time of renewal as well as re-commissioning. I am entering this time with hands wide open for whatever God wants to take off of my plate or put on my plate. But even before entering into a time where I will have the chance to gain some new perspective, one theme is emerging—returning to the secret place. Choosing to be secure in my identity as a missionary even if I’m being called to a season where my primary purpose is actually worship and intercession above all else. The truth is that I welcome it because I’m at the end of myself and am out of ideas. Raúl and I can’t transform anyone. We can’t provide for everyone. We don’t have all of the answers…sometimes, we don’t have any of the answers. And, there are some things that are so deeply rooted in this country (as it is in all countries) that without spiritual warfare and God’s perfect intervention, there will not be change no matter how many people we educate or employ or evangelize. Prayer truly is the lifeblood of ministry.
So, that is my confession for the month and this last update before we head to the States. I am full of hope and honestly excited for what God has in store. In the meantime, my husband is still running himself ragged trying to get everything in order before we go. Prayers for that and for a smooth passing through immigration are greatly appreciated.
As a side note, we also had cause for celebration this month as Esthefanny finally got to partake of her high school graduation ceremony. It came late, as she was already done with her first period of college classes, but welcome to Honduras. It was quite the accomplishment, and we are so proud of her. She continues to be a joy to my life, and I look forward to the amazing things that God has for her future.
By this time next month I’ll be writing to you from the US. I hope to see many of you while we’re there. Much love to you all. We are so thankful for your continued prayers and support. We do not take it lightly the way that you have invested in us as people and have believed in us even when we may have struggled to believe in ourselves. Thankfully, “I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in [us] will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 1:6.
But, I am learning that whatever I have walked—fruitful or not, purposeful or not, meandering or truly divine—has been an ongoing circumcision of the heart. I grew up being the good church girl. I was the person who was always available, always willing, and often thrust into doing things that were beyond what would normally be expected of someone my age. Because of often being told I was mature for my age and because of my ingrained personality, I have often demanded much more of myself than anyone else is demanding of me, or I have taught others to treat me as such by denying that I have needs. I have struggled with striving. I was the kid who cried over a B. I was the Christian kid who was always on some kind of a mission. And, for a long time, I didn’t know that I had permission to guard my heart or to say no. Much of my life story with God thus far has been an unraveling of beliefs I was either taught or that I absorbed myself. It has been a journey of unlearning—unlearning that I have to earn God’s love with my good ministry; unlearning that being a whole and healthy person can’t just consist of ticking off all the boxes of church attendance, Bible reading, and prayer; and unlearning the misconception that having needs within the Body of Christ makes you weak or unworthy of being used by God. I made a commitment before I became a missionary, after much internal processing with God and stripping of my own ego even then, that I would not be busy for the sake of being busy. Though I wouldn’t have put it into these words, I have been committed to the idea of respecting God’s no in my life and acknowledging that His no is protecting me somehow. For that reason, I have not rushed forward in these seasons that have felt like absolutely nothing is moving forward or producing fruit. I have continued to be faithful. I have continued to seek. But I have resisted jumping into something only to be able to justify my existence as a missionary.
It’s been extremely hard to be true to who I am in ministry, and I don’t know that I’ve passed that test with flying colors. Often, I have struggled with the expectations of others, my own projections of the expectations of others, and the cultural pressures I’ve encountered that I never expected. I have walked seasons of being so desperate for community and relationship in ministry that I have let aspects of myself slide for the benefit of others, or I have convinced myself that I don’t have enough anointing, authority, and spiritual strength and need to let someone else tell me who to be. Sadly, but at the same time, rightly, all of that has been only to find that many of the people I have internally placed on a pedestal are just as human and fallible and weak in some areas as I am. We’re all so in need of God’s divine favor, direction, and grace.
In September, I will complete eight years of living in Honduras and being a missionary, so I’ve been wondering and investigating what significance that number eight has in the Bible. What I have found is this: It means resurrection and regeneration. It means new life. If the seventh day is the day of completion and rest, the eighth day is about a new start. When God flooded the earth, He saved eight people to start over. (1 Peter 3:20) Eight also represents the circumcision of the heart (Genesis 17:10, Leviticus 12:3)—God’s cutting away all of those things that aren’t reflective of His heart or His strategy or His vision or who He wants us to be. When I look back over the last seven and half years, I see a lot of the ways that God has been whittling down the things in my life that weren’t healthy. Some of those things relate to not knowing how to have healthy boundaries and how to take care of the temple of the Holy Spirit within me. Some of those things were related to my personality and ego and my own desires to be validated by what I do. And, the greatest conclusion in my search for strategy has been this: I have reached the end of myself, and I have ended up exactly where I knew I always needed to be—the secret place of intimacy with the Father. The knowing that if He does not move, there is no other option. The acknowledgement that prayer and worship and ministering to His Person in relationship has to come first.
I have known with my head even before becoming a missionary that the key to it all is in relationship with the Holy Spirit and in putting Him and our relationship first. Before moving to Honduras and in listening to many messages from Heidi Baker even after moving, I learned that God can do more through our dependency and intimacy than He can ever do through our striving and strength. But it’s taken me a long time to transfer that from head knowledge to heart action. I’ve certainly had seasons of close intimacy with God and feeling Him direct my every move. So, it hasn’t been a situation of going through the motions. But, I have often deterred myself from making intercession and worship the be all, end all priority above all else because I’ve struggled with wanting to do, to produce, and to be able to tangibly justify my life in Honduras and my ministry. How do you measure the impact your worship has on the heavenlies? How do you quantify how your intercession is opening Kingdom doors for salvations and healings and transformations? How do you compose a PowerPoint presentation about your fruitfulness when your time is primarily spent seeking God’s face rather than giving, helping, and serving people?
Don’t get me wrong—the giving, helping, and serving is important. It’s not to be ignored or dismissed. It is vital to the Kingdom of God. However, it should be done from a place of being fueled in and directed by the secret place. Speaking from experience, the giving on human terms often does not lead to salvation, at least not necessarily in that the sower also harvests. The helping often causes dependency on we humans rather than dependency on God. And the serving can cause a ministry’s purpose to be de-railed when the needs of the people dictate the whole direction. We can take cues from the needs around us. Those needs are important. But, when ministry gets flipped upside down, and we forget that we are called to minister to the Person of God first, not only do we end up with nothing left to minister to the Person of God in relationship, we also end up having nothing of value with which to serve the people. When your heart is empty of love, giving is no longer a joy and a conviction as a result of relationship with our Heavenly Father but an obligation to resent. And, along those lines, we also don't want to teach dependency on us or a sense of entitlement or a victim attitude.
But, oftentimes, ministry is a merry-go-round spinning so fast that you can’t get off even enough to get your bearings. Raúl and I have maintained ourselves, and I can say that because I found Ladies Bible study and friends who have accepted me with so much love and understanding, I am in a much healthier place than I’ve been in in seasons past. But, I would also be lying if I said that we aren’t tired. The reality is that every day we are presented with needs. Every day, we are placed in the complicated position of discerning what is helping and what is hurting. And, without the Holy Spirit, it’s an impossible task. I can’t say that we always get it right, and I’ll be the first to say that I usually don’t make good decisions under pressure. And, more often than I’d like to admit, we’re also facing disappointments, betrayals, and sorting out the emotions after we’ve given and then been mistreated. Even if we entered into it with an attitude of giving as unto the Lord and not unto solely unto others, it still hurts. So, we are in need of a reset, a refill, and an encounter with the love of the Father.
It’s a relief to me that those who have been praying for us feel like this upcoming trip to the States will be just that. And, in my own time with God, I also have felt like this will be a time of renewal as well as re-commissioning. I am entering this time with hands wide open for whatever God wants to take off of my plate or put on my plate. But even before entering into a time where I will have the chance to gain some new perspective, one theme is emerging—returning to the secret place. Choosing to be secure in my identity as a missionary even if I’m being called to a season where my primary purpose is actually worship and intercession above all else. The truth is that I welcome it because I’m at the end of myself and am out of ideas. Raúl and I can’t transform anyone. We can’t provide for everyone. We don’t have all of the answers…sometimes, we don’t have any of the answers. And, there are some things that are so deeply rooted in this country (as it is in all countries) that without spiritual warfare and God’s perfect intervention, there will not be change no matter how many people we educate or employ or evangelize. Prayer truly is the lifeblood of ministry.
So, that is my confession for the month and this last update before we head to the States. I am full of hope and honestly excited for what God has in store. In the meantime, my husband is still running himself ragged trying to get everything in order before we go. Prayers for that and for a smooth passing through immigration are greatly appreciated.
As a side note, we also had cause for celebration this month as Esthefanny finally got to partake of her high school graduation ceremony. It came late, as she was already done with her first period of college classes, but welcome to Honduras. It was quite the accomplishment, and we are so proud of her. She continues to be a joy to my life, and I look forward to the amazing things that God has for her future.
By this time next month I’ll be writing to you from the US. I hope to see many of you while we’re there. Much love to you all. We are so thankful for your continued prayers and support. We do not take it lightly the way that you have invested in us as people and have believed in us even when we may have struggled to believe in ourselves. Thankfully, “I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in [us] will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 1:6.
