Without much notice, all the plans I had held close and made for the next few years of my life were being redirected. I found myself flying over an ocean, making my way back home to my family when I should have been en route to Africa for an outreach trip instead. Sickness had crept upon me, and to home I was returning—with zero plans and many bittersweet feelings. At first, I believed the lie that told me my return meant I had failed. It meant that I was no longer fulfilling the calling on my life and pursuing some great mission—or so it seemed. However, it didn’t take too long for me to realize that through the grace, kindness, and understanding my family extended towards me, the Lord was working all things together for my good. Our good, really. As each day passed, it became more evident that the…Continue Reading
Mozambican Hands
“He’s got the whole world in His hands” I would sing throughout my childhood at Sunday school. Even now, I find that all too familiar song flooding back into my memory. It got me thinking about hands. The position of my hands have often depicted the posture of my heart. What my hands are doing help describe the season I am walking through. Earlier this year, I had the great joy of serving on staff at Youth With A Mission in a Discipleship Training School. Hours were spent in preparation for the school, and my hands were constantly sweating—nervous of the responsibility set before me and the insecurities that had surfaced as a first time staff member. Once the school began, the things I had previously held tightly to vanished as I walked and learned alongside such incredible people. When dealing with circumstances beyond my reach, the Lord was teaching me to lift…Continue Reading