Golden Suffering

Scrape. Scraaape. Scraaaaaape. With each stroke, my flesh is seared. Scab after scab yanked loose from my stubborn skin. Wounds left vulnerable to infection. Raw. I easily embrace the old, coping mechanism. Escaping when I can no longer breathe has always worked in the past. However, my shoes are glued to the floor. I glance around to find the source of pain. I already know. Somehow, the fire burns, but I am graciously protected from disintegration.

Suffering. This year, I have been on a search for God's goodness midst suffering; suffering of the worst kind. Rejection. Rejection messes with your mind and your heart. It takes you on a quest for identity. Over and over, I have asked God, "Who am I? Do I still matter to you?" I have seen the worst in myself this year. I cringe every time I reflect on the emotional turmoil of my heart. Turmoil that I am still battling. Occasionally I hear, "Be still and know that I am God." What does one do when it seems as if that rejection comes from God? 

I sat in a room of 18 future missionaries. All of us were rearing to go! Until, I received the news that I would not be among the willing. I was the 1 in 18. I loved and supported the ones who were chosen. Why did God reject me? "You aren't ready." It still rings in my ears.

I had miraculous events take place after those two weeks and ended up in Cuba! My heart was still on spin. 

I went to Alabama to begin full-time ministry with my man. I experienced a new normal as I began my M.A. Everything fell into place. 

My apartment became my home. Weed dealers, 2 a.m. fights coming into my living room, shots firing, weekend parties, hail raining from heaven...no place like home! I was dazed and unprepared. I could not wait to get out of there. 

It began to seem as if Satan was taking shot after shot at my faith. There were numerous situations that were out of my control. I needed to breathe. 

The tears overwhelmed my face as I made my way to professional counseling. Defeat threatened to knock at my door. I remember the long, dreaded walk as I drudged up the stairs. 

3 years at Bible college. My sanctuary was gone. I wanted a safe place. Ministry is hard! People are hard! Life is hard! Joy comes despite the circumstances. I thought, how do I get there?! 

This year has been a constant FIGHT for joy! 

About a week ago, the door to church ministry was shut. There are no words to explain that type of experience when it happens twice in one year! Confusion, doubt, bitterness, anger, and hurt are unwelcome companions. 

Today, my Mom told me stories of a defiant, stubborn three year old. Stories of me. Hope sparked as I remembered words of a college professor, "Brittany, people with your background do not end up here at Bible college. How did you get here?" 

I believe God's goodness has been etched through the suffering. Somehow, that girl has been lost. The vibrant, "don't stand in my way" attitude has been crushed. I am not talking about rebellion against God or brother. I do not want that. I am talking about being an OUTLAW for the cause of Christ! I want to rebel against the gates of Hell. 

Emotionally, it has been a year of hell for me. Satan is relentless. I am a witness that claims God's goodness is alive and well in the desert of life! 

This season has been a dry desert. I have been left thirsty. God's goodness prevails.

I am nowhere where I want to be. There are days I lay flat out in my room and cry tears of desperation. I constantly ask, "Why is God rejecting me? What is this season of life? I have never been here before?!" 

God knew I needed counseling before I did. God knew not to send me to the mission field. I can barely do life on my own in Florence, Alabama. Only God knows what is around the corner as Erik and I get married. 

I have seen God's goodness as He teaches me to rest in Him. I keep making plans. "I am going to do this tomorrow. I am going here. I am going there."

Honestly, I do not know what tomorrow holds. I have no idea what I am doing in 2 hours! 

One day, I hope I can say I am thankful for how God has used this year to peel back layers. He has used this year to reveal bondage that I did not know even existed. He has used this time to run me through the fire! 

I wish I could say I have been strong. I have not. 

I can say my Rock has been strong. I can say He is faithful. I can say Jesus reigns. 

I have probably cried an ocean this year. I have definitely beaten the world's record for most questions asked. In times of grief, confusion, and suffering of any kind, Christ is there. I may not see Him. I may not feel Him. I may not even be able to cry out to Him. 

I choose to be stubborn. I choose to believe in Scripture. I choose no other way! I cannot! 

I do not  understand. There is no big picture to grasp. 

I cling to the waistcoat of my Savior. That is all I know to do. 

He is good! 

My prayer.

"These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith--of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire--may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." 1 Peter 1:7

Pequeno Hogar

The broken gravel crackled beneath Evelynn’s brown, strappy sandals as she sprinted down the forsaken street of CaÑita. Dilapidated blurs of pastels whizzed past as painful reminders of the luxuries of home. Evelynn’s honeydew curls bobbed rhythmically past her polka-dotted backpack despite the torturous effects of Panama’s unnatural humidity. She continued down the path of exhilarating freedom until her beloved solace came into view. PequeÑo Hogar, or Little Home, suited the quaint river. Evelynn knew no other.

“This is fleeting, Evelynn. You’ll see. We’ll be back home in no time.” Her parents had promised a quick return. Yet, the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into three months. Alabama seemed like a distant memory. I miss my friends. I miss air conditioning. Shoot, I miss plain English!  Her father’s electrical company, Bright Futures, had relocated their top engineers. Unfortunately, Thomas Wilson surpassed the rest.

Caught off guard, Evelynn glided down the slope to the murky edge. Tropical trees swayed in tune with the demands of the wind. Bees, mosquitos, and flies hovered about the water’s edge, their tiny feet tickling the red mud. Evelynn’s heart rate slowed to a mere patter as peace swamped through all her anxieties. She kicked off her shoes, shed her swim covering, and plunked in the wet clay. Her feet barely immersed due to fear of leeches. 

Evelynn spent the afternoon braving the pages of Mark Twain’s, Huckleberry Finn. She huffed out a regretful sigh. I’ll never be as adventurous or independent as Huck.

Evelynn gasped as a strong gust of wind carried the paperback into the treacherous waters. Rain began to pelt the peaceful stream marking sharp ripples. The tranquil abode soon lost appeal as small creatures scurried to shelter. Evelynn hurriedly gathered her things. As she bent over to retrieve her sandals, a screeching sound reverberated overhead. A young boy flew through the air, released a tethered rope, and plopped into the river. The audacity of the boy rivetted Evelynn making it hard to breathe as she waited for him to resurface.

“Ayudame! Ayudame!” Desperate cries finally filled the thick air as his head emerged from the nasty abyss. Evelynn did not know enough Spanish to translate, but she did know the danger looming when arms flailed in a body of water. Think like Huck! Think like Huck! She glanced fervently along the shores hoping for a sign of life. Instead, she spotted an abandoned dinghy. Rushing to the rickety structure, Evelynn cautiously stepped aboard, sat down, and picked up the two oars. Lightening permeated the dark sky. Evelynn hastened to his aid.

Scrambling to her knees, Evelynn approached the side of the dinghy thrusting out her hand. The rebellious waters further separated Evelynn from the boy. As she stretched her entire body weight over the side of the boat, the dinghy failed under the pressure. Evelynn and the oars toppled with the boat.

 “Gotcha!” Evelynn grabbed him by the hair. The shore was only a few feet away, but the swift current made the task daunting. Evelynn used all the strength she could muster. The boy’s weight was manageable in the water but impossible to transport once on shore. Evelynn hit her knees and rolled him the remaining distance until they had cleared of the river’s danger.

His eyes jerked open, laughter etching his brown facial features. He hopped to his feet singing and dancing. He grabbed Evelynn’s hands and began twirling to the beat of the storm. Evelynn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“What is wrong with you? Do you speak English?” Jerking her hands away, Evelynn peered closer at the boy but jumped back when he tugged on her drying curls.

“Hey! Stop that! Why didn’t you swim to shore? Were you drowning?” The boy was not interested in answering Evelynn’s questions. He turned and raced back to the water.

“Wait a minute! You don’t know how to swim!” Idiot. She watched him skillfully maneuver through the water to retrieve her book, the oars, and the dinghy. His muscles taut as he pulled the boat back to its original, resting place.

As the storm began to taper, the boy climbed the ravine and disappeared behind the surrounding shrubbery. Evellyn’s knees buckled as she sank in the mud. She frantically searched her body for leeches. There were none to be found. Would her parents believe her? Would they even listen as she recounted the events of today? What just happened?  

As fast as he had gone, he returned. He smiled a large, toothy grin and placed the soggy copy of Huckleberry Finn along with a Spanish dictionary in Evelynn’s hands. Confused, she glanced from her hands to his face. He squeezed Evelynn with a firm hug as if to say goodbye and raced through the wooded land. She began to deposit her books in her backpack but caught a glimpse of writing inside the front cover of the Spanish dictionary.

Hi there! My name is Joe. I stood over your shoulder as you reacted to Huckleberry Finn. It is one of my favorites too! You may seem lost and fear you lack courage, but I am here to tell you that is not the case. I took it upon myself to show you the bravery residing inside. Hope you don’t mind! See you around!

P.S. English is hard, but Spanish is easy! Welcome home.