So this week is the last week of our submerging posture. Our final big assignment was to go for three days (Tuesday - Thursday) to stay with people that we've made friends with. Since Jody and I had been spending so much time with the Zimbabwe refugees, it seemed natural that we would go and stay with them. So we made the plans, figured it out as best we could, talked to the people there, decided what we were going to do about food, pretty much everything, right?
Well Sunday morning we had planned on going to church, but when I woke up something was wrong. I had quite a bad sore throat. I spent the whole day trying to chill, feel better, but by Monday it got really bad. By the time Tuesday came around, a full on flu hit me and there was no way I was going anywhere. You see, to stay with the refugees meant to stay out in the elements. Its not like super freezing cold or anything, but cold enough to where it just wasn't wise to stay out there in my condition. I hoped that maybe it would improve so that I could come out and stay the next night, but no such luck. Tonight is the last night of the assignment and here I am at home, still sick. I've improved, but still not a good idea to go and sleep outside all night. On top of that, the last thing I want to do is to get someone out there sick where they have enough to deal with as is.
So I guess my problem is, why now?!? Why couldn't this have happened like a week earlier? A week later? Why when I have such an opportunity do I have to get sick at the most inopportune time? My tendency in this situation is to get down on myself, as if I could have predicted or stopped myself from getting sick, and to think that I'm useless, or that I'm not pleasing God by just sitting around the house being sick. I should be out there! Sometimes I wondered if I should have just gone out there, sacrificed my body, trusted God with my health and done it anyways. Just when I was really starting to give myself a guilt trip this verse came to mind:
You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. Psalm 51:16,17
Just like He's been telling me this whole year, He speaks to me again and says that He loves my heart. Doing this assignment isn't going to make God love me more. Sure it's a good idea and probably would have been a life changing experience, but it wouldn't have made God anymore pleased with me than he already is. I wonder when I'll learn that? It will probably be a lifelong process of understanding, messing up, falling at His feet, gaining new understanding, messing up again, repeat cycle.
Father, break my heart...
Father, break my heart...
3 comments:
Chris! Thanks for stopping by my little corner of the blogosphere. It's always nice to see a perfect stranger/fellow believer pop up in the comments section.
On the topic of this entry: this is a powerful and difficult lesson to learn. I have been grappling with some of the same concepts, as you probably gathered from my blog. Except I'm in Oklahoma, which is about 12 times less rad than South Africa. Nonetheless, He has a way of bringing this stuff out of us again and again.
Thank you for sharing. Keep writing!
your no longer sick.. i think you need a new post.. the sick face is getting old buddy, getting old :)
It's coming, in due time, it's coming.
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