Every so
often I revisit the confirmation of my call to Africa. When life gets out of
focus I need to “hear” God’s answer again to the question, “Why am I here in
Zambia?”
God confirmed my call to Africa while I was in Honduras. In September 2006 Tracy and I, with another couple, flew to Tegucigalpa to be part of a short-term mission trip with World Gospel Outreach. WGO is known for its eye, dental, vision, and hygiene clinics among the poor. After meeting physical needs at these clinics, the gospel is shared with adults and children of all ages.
On this particular day I was helping wash, delouse, and comb children’s hair. From the moment our eyes met, Carolina and I bonded. I immediately knew I wanted the chance to fix this ten-year-old's hair. Now that her hair had been washed and deloused, Carolina was ready for the crowning touch of “hair pretties.” As I neared the end of adding glittery barrettes and bows to her black hair, I was asked something in Spanish. Why hadn’t I studied harder in college? Little did I know her question was an unusual request. The translator said that Carolina had asked if I would wash her feet.
My heart melted at that point. Everything else in the room faded away as I grabbed a basin and towel. Going to my knees, I was immediately reminded of Jesus’ washing the disciples’ feet. God met with me in those few moments as I focused on cleaning Carolina’s brown feet, barely able to see through my tears.
Later, others in the room said there was a holy hush. The only thing I was aware of was God’s answer to my burning question. An answer spoken without words, but I “heard.” “So, you want to know what you’ll be doing in Africa? This is what you’ll be doing.”
Washing feet is Jesus’ symbol for serving others. God has called me here to serve. At times that gets fuzzy. I don’t always know what that looks like. To be honest, in my rebellion I sometimes don’t care. Tiredness sets in. I don't want to serve the ones He's telling me to serve. Most of the time that's my husband. At times I long for a more specific picture. What I consider serving is not always understood or needed. And I’m left with questions.
So, I come back to the “drawing board”~to the story of my call to Africa. I return in order to refocus. To rethink. To recommit. To redirect my steps. For it’s the heart that He wants. May my hands and feet never fail to follow.
God confirmed my call to Africa while I was in Honduras. In September 2006 Tracy and I, with another couple, flew to Tegucigalpa to be part of a short-term mission trip with World Gospel Outreach. WGO is known for its eye, dental, vision, and hygiene clinics among the poor. After meeting physical needs at these clinics, the gospel is shared with adults and children of all ages.
On this particular day I was helping wash, delouse, and comb children’s hair. From the moment our eyes met, Carolina and I bonded. I immediately knew I wanted the chance to fix this ten-year-old's hair. Now that her hair had been washed and deloused, Carolina was ready for the crowning touch of “hair pretties.” As I neared the end of adding glittery barrettes and bows to her black hair, I was asked something in Spanish. Why hadn’t I studied harder in college? Little did I know her question was an unusual request. The translator said that Carolina had asked if I would wash her feet.
My heart melted at that point. Everything else in the room faded away as I grabbed a basin and towel. Going to my knees, I was immediately reminded of Jesus’ washing the disciples’ feet. God met with me in those few moments as I focused on cleaning Carolina’s brown feet, barely able to see through my tears.
Later, others in the room said there was a holy hush. The only thing I was aware of was God’s answer to my burning question. An answer spoken without words, but I “heard.” “So, you want to know what you’ll be doing in Africa? This is what you’ll be doing.”
Washing feet is Jesus’ symbol for serving others. God has called me here to serve. At times that gets fuzzy. I don’t always know what that looks like. To be honest, in my rebellion I sometimes don’t care. Tiredness sets in. I don't want to serve the ones He's telling me to serve. Most of the time that's my husband. At times I long for a more specific picture. What I consider serving is not always understood or needed. And I’m left with questions.
So, I come back to the “drawing board”~to the story of my call to Africa. I return in order to refocus. To rethink. To recommit. To redirect my steps. For it’s the heart that He wants. May my hands and feet never fail to follow.
2 comments:
Your lives are an inspiration to me, your trials that are fully human. I love and miss you!
I love this, Karen - so beautiful. It brought tears to my eyes.
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