explain yourself

I have a very strong need to explain myself often.  Maybe even defend myself.  Every action is met with the constant nagging feeling in the back of my mind to explain.  It's as if I have a person hovering over me, glaring at me while wagging their finger, sternly exclaiming, "Explain yourself, missy!"

I feel as though I have used this space as my explaining platform.  I disguise my obsession by labeling it sharing my heart but a rose by any other name is still a rose.  I believe this comes from a genuine place in my soul that desires others to understand my heart.  For this closet people pleaser, being understood is a huge longing of my heart.

I have not blogged much lately.  It was not for a lack of words to write but rather a lack of understanding of the words that poured out of my soul.  All over the board and lacking in coherency I knew I needed to step away and allow myself to be private for a while.  To allow myself some time to just be and not try to explain away the feelings and emotions I was experiencing.

But now I would like to share.  Not explain, just simply share what's going on with me...

Coming to language school I knew that I was embarking on a difficult task.  I knew I was facing a difficult year but brushed it off and starred googly eyed into the future.  I had no idea what I was getting in to.  The last seven months have challenged me in ways that I was not expecting.  The last seven months have challenged me down to my very core.

I knew learning French would be difficult.  I did not know that learning French would constantly feel impossible.  I really do mean that, impossible.  That is where the doubt has come in.  It comes in waves but each round is bigger than the previous.  Day after day being faced with the seemingly impossible task of learning a new language I began to doubt all of it.

One night while sitting under the fading sun light as it dipped behind the mountains I whispered the words, Did I hear you wrong? Did I mess up? God, did you even call me to do this?

Why would I ask Him that?  Learning French became to me an impossible task.  The process began feeling like a punishment.  My mind started reeling with thoughts and fears.  I believed learning French was going to be hard however I told myself that if God called me to a people who speak French then surely He will make it happen!  He will make me speak French!

Faced with feeling like a failure and sounding like a jabbering 18 month old when I open my mouth that thought went flying out the window.  And in its vacancy the thought of I'm not getting this, maybe I heard God wrong!

I feel shameful admitting that.  Missionaries don't doubt God.  They don't doubt God's call on their life.  Missionaries are not supposed to doubt God.  

Or at least that is the thought that has taken root in my heart.  I fear letting people in to the depths of my soul for fear that they will find out just how much I don't have this thing figured out.  Most days ya'll, I'm just a big hot mess.

But that's just the truth.  I do not have ANY of this figured out.  I don't have any idea what I will be doing in five months when I step foot on Malian soil.  Not a clue.  I don't know and I can't handle it.  Not knowing what my days, my life will look like in just five short months takes me to a dark place.  Every insecurity I have is being plucked like a turkey on Thanksgiving.

I know that God has put a deep, life changing passion and desire to work with children and young women in Mali, into my heart.  Nothing gets my heart pumping like talking about orphans and street kids and kids knowing Jesus and prostitution/human trafficking and poverty.  These things take up most of my heart and thoughts.

Injustice infuriates me.
Orphan care lights up my heart.
Dignified sustaining income for former prostitutes intrigues me.
Kids loving Jesus excites me.

I have a picture above my bed that says, "If your dreams don't scare you, they're not big enough!"

Scare me?  My dreams freak me out and keep me up at night.  My dreams are so big they mock me.  I am not qualified to accomplish any of my dreams.  I don't have a degree in any of my areas of passion.  I don't have a degree period.  I am not qualified to help orphans.  I'm not qualified to help street kids.  I'm not qualified to help women in prostitution or human trafficking.

I am not qualified, yet these dreams will not go away.  My dreams have only grown stronger and deeper over the years.  My dreams have turned into pursuits.  My dreams drive me.  My dreams sustain me. 

Without the kids, the women, the poverty, the injustice, Jesus, without these things I can't exist.  I don't know how to exist without these things.

So, to those who are wondering... Yes, I am learning French and currently speak like a stuttering two year old.  I do not know what I will do when I move to Mali.  I do not have strategies or a blueprint for ministry. I do not know these things.  

What I do know is that God's plans don't make sense most of the time.  He chooses weak, broken and messy people to carry His word to the nations.  Missionaries are not perfect or have it all together.  I don't know what will happen in five months, heck, I don't know what will happen in five hours BUT God does. 

Explain yourself.  Ok, go ask God.