A Ugandan Christian brother sat me down for a serious conversation a few days ago. Surprisingly, happily, he was willing to speak into my life as my fellow believer - to confront me, really, on my behavior.
The conversation revolved around his reports that many local people are saying that “Annelise has changed”. They think, maybe, that I have become proud, I don’t care about people. ” You see her driving the motocar and she doesn’t even wave to some of her friends. Every day she has a serious face, not laughing and joking like before. We don’t even hear her preaching the gospel everyday, everyday. She used to give a Word of God to every person but these days her words are very small.”
I admit to a small ( okay, large) bit of frustration . . . . . As we take over our ministry at Christ School, as we shift from one house to another, as we take on a new life and I try to stabilize my family through it while continuing many relationships and ministry obligations, I do find myself serious. And as I sat with this friend and talked, I heard myself saying more than once: ” that school is a big luggage, really, so that is one of the reasons you find me like that.” (like my African english??:) ) Not to mention my body still recovering from years of unhealthiness and the surgery that fixed it, not to mention adjusting to several new medications and their side affects. Not to mention that in addition to my obvious Christ School life, I have a team life (also complicated!) and an American life as well. Now do I sound like I’m making some serious excuses for myself?
As I walked home, many thoughts were in my head: I’m right, he’s wrong. Don’t they understand?? My life is much more complicated than they realize. I’m trying, can’t they see me trying?” And even upon much more reflection (these are the very issues that keep me up late and wake me early whether or not anyone brings them up) I think that viewpoint has merit. This IS a hard time for me, for us. This is a time of change of stabilizing, of holding on, waiting and believing that the glory comes later. Yet what the Holy Spirit also kept bringing to mind was the phrase about my carrying “heavy luggage” and how clearly God’s word applies. Doesn’t God say, ” my yoke is easy, my burden is light.” Or as I have translated into African English ” My things are small and my luggage is not heavy.” Yet for me the luggage has felt heavy these last few weeks. That is an indicator that I am not releasing these few small things He has entrusted me with, back to Him. Trusting Him with myself, my work, my gifts, small though they be.

There were times when Jesus was with the people, preaching, teaching and healing. There were times when Jesus was alone, conversing with His Dad (I need so much more of this). There were times when Jesus was with the few, with his good friends, pouring out into their lives. That is where I find myself right now. And as a result, whether I want to preach the gospel or not, I find myself without words to speak. And I must believe that God has closed my mouth for the present. The Holy Spirit was always the one speaking in my Bible Studies, Bible story hours and many many conversations. Yet now I find myself word-less and I must accept, with crying, that this is not my work right now.

Didn’t the prophets have times when they spoke and times when they were called to be quiet? I’m grasping here, because I liked myself so much better last year, when my calling felt vaguer yet somehow surer. When I woke up each day excited to spread the name of Jesus. When I held small dark bodies in my arms, played rounds of Uno as I looked into the bright excited eyes of little neighbor boys. I miss sitting with women as they cook sombe over a twilight fire. Miss walking dusty roads and crossing intersecting rivers on my way to visit a friend or carry an old man or woman to the hospital by car. I miss being full of compassion and mercy and having time for people.

Yet I do believe. I believe that God called me by name. I believe He prepared this new work for me from before the beginning of time. I believe that He will also bring glory out of it all, some day. God help my unbelief. Help my sadness, help my hurting heart. And give me the courage to walk into each day whether or not I can see the glory, see the beauty, see the grace present. Whether or not I can feel your Holy Spirit walking me through. Because I know you are there and if I fall, you again will catch me.
From Nichole Nordman’s Woven and Spun album:
Send some rain
Would you send some rain
Cause the earth is dry
And needs to drink again
And the sun is high and
We are sinking in the shade
Would you send a cloud
Thunder long and loud
Let the sky grow black
And send some mercy down
Surely you can see that we are thirsty and afraid
But maybe not, not today
Maybe you provide in other ways
And if that’s the case
We give thanks to you, with Gratitude
For lessons learned in how to thirst for you
How to bless the very sun that warms our face
If you never send us rain