…And then the refining

When I signed up for the World Race, I prayed it would be challenging so the Lord would grow me. I had no idea what I was asking for, and I was completely unprepared for the struggle that came.

I walked into last week wrestling with the Lord, asking Him if He was truly faithful. I’ve tasted and seen His goodness countless times, yet I’m still so quick to doubt when my surroundings or feelings tell me He is not who He says He is. In response to my doubt, my kind heavenly Father put it on my heart to start looking for and keeping track of the ways He was faithful in every moment. At the time, I did not realize this would be one of the only things that would keep me grounded in the coming week.

The morning after I had that conversation with the Lord, I woke up with a fever. My fellow teammates left the mountain that day for ministry, so I was all alone. All day, I drifted in and out of sleep as I shivered in my sleeping bag, the sole person on that mountain. And yet, I was not alone. My Father reminded me of His faithfulness in the warm clothes I wore, the food I had to eat, and the medicine that finally brought my fever down.

That same day, off the mountain, one of my teammates found out about a tragic emergency at home. Later that day, she flew back to the States to be with her family, and a heavy weight settled on the team as we worried and prayed.

The next day, my team was scheduled to do ministry in the next town over, and I was determined to leave the mountain and go with them. Although I did not feel completely well, the first half of the day was uneventful as we hiked down the mountain and took a bus to our ministry. After a long day, we hailed a bus to drive us back. As soon as we sat down in it, a few of my teammates began to feel uneasy, but we needed to get back up the mountain, so we stayed silent. It was dark and rainy outside, so we weren’t completely sure where we were. But as we looked out the foggy windows, one of my teammates thought she saw our stop go by. Tensions began to rise in the van as the minutes passed and the bus did not stop. My friend asked the driver if we had already passed our stop, and he told her we were still 15 minutes away. Our thoughts raced as time dragged, and after 20 more minutes, the driver finally dropped us off in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home. And yet, my team was not alone. As the rain poured, we huddled together, asking our Father to help us. Several minutes later, a man came up and asked us in English if we were okay. We told him about our situation, and he told us he had a friend who owned a bus and could come pick us up. I had never been more excited to see two headlights! As this sweet Guatemalan man drove us up the mountain, we could not wipe the smiles off our faces. Once again, the Lord had come through for us, showing Himself to be a faithful Father who holds us in His hands.

The morning after what would infamously go down in history as the “van incident,” we turned on our sinks to find that nothing came out. We were completely out of water. No more showers, no flushing toilets. But again, the Lord provided for us. Because we have to filter all the water we drink, there was enough water in the filter for us to cook and stay hydrated for the day. Our Living Water continued to give us everything we needed.

The day after, we were sent down the mountain to stay in Antigua since we still had no water. We waterproofed all our backpacks and began the hike down. As the rain poured, my sick body struggled to keep up with the rest of my team. But when we finally made it down, the Lord was so sweet to meet us with His grace again. One of our local Guatemalan friends warmly welcomed us into his house and fed us the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted (besides my mom’s, of course). The Lord met us in our friend’s generosity, in the warmth of the kitchen, and in our full tummies.

The next morning, Sunday. Finally. After a long, grueling week, my team and I began the morning in church. Best decision of my life! I came in weary and tired, and the moment I sat down, my gentle Father met me with so much love. As the pastor opened Romans 8:35-36, the tears started trailing down my face.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:35-36

Although the Lord had been so present in His faithfulness, the hard had filled me with fear. Fear that He left me, abandoned me to carry my burdens all alone. But the Father refused to let me believe that lie. His love overshadowed me, surrounded me, and secured me, even in the moments of grief and loneliness. His cords of kindness and bands of love would not let me go.

The past week felt like the path I had been following led me into a deep forest. The trees loomed large, casting dim shadows along my path, but the existence of the darkness did not mean the sun ever stopped shining. The Lord’s presence, faithfulness, and love never left me alone, even when it felt like His warmth was replaced by the biting chill of shadows.

When we first moved to prayer mountain, I was a little jarred by how different it was from my life back home, but I was excited about living in untamed, adventurous simplicity. I was so ready to jump into a Little-House-on-the-Prairie lifestyle. I never thought such a beautiful mountaintop would conceal this darkened valley. Yet, He was with me, and His goodness and mercy followed me through every weak and weary moment, continually pursuing me in love. This is who I get to call Abba, Father!