Feb. 4th, 2024
[Setting: In Manzini, Swaziland, on the Race again. This time, I’m leading a group of 18 during their four month trip to Swazi and South Africa. Our ministry is showing up to love on some kiddos.]
The shade was a blessing for sure. It definitely didn’t keep all the heat away, but it did save my poor pale skin from the brutal UV rays beating down, and that was enough. I was sitting under a cemented porch, bouncing a 2 year-old Swazi girl on my knee, while my team (Team 138– Meet the Team is making a comeback, baby), sat around the square block as well, swaddling the babes with hugs. In the middle of the floor sat a deflated soccer ball.
Eyeing the ball, one of the little girls slid off the lap of one of my teammates and began waddling towards it.
“This kid,” she commented, “she knows what she wants and doesn’t stop ‘til she has it.”
As the girl was in the midst of her beeline to the soccer ball, another child had gotten to it first. A completely fair play, but the ball was no longer almost in the girl’s possession. As if losing sight of the ball was the absolute worst thing to happen, she plopped down on her behind, and immediately started wailing.
My teammate, being much more gracious than myself, swiftly scooped the child up and began comforting her. I, on the other hand, rolled my eyes.
Admittedly, children’s ministry is not my favorite.
“Goooooooooooooodddddd,” I scribbled in my journal, all the o’s running together, “help me pleassseeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
It hadn’t even been a full week of ministry, and I. Was. Tired. Immediately upon waking, I let out a irritated sigh. ‘Here we go again.’ Another day of sitting in the hot sun, sweating profusely, surrounded by children who wanted to stick their sticky-with-rice hands through my hair. Of course, there were things to look forward to– learning the culture through handshakes with the older girls, playing Sandman, testing the team’s dead hanging ability– but that morning, I felt devoid of any energy and lacking in all gratitude.
I ranted to God. ‘I know I came on this trip aware that I would be doing this ministry,’ I scribbled, ‘but this is frustrating. It’s hot, I’m sweaty LITERALLY 24/7, I’m t-i-r-e-d–’
You get the point.
Later in the week, my attitude hadn’t changed much. I was catching up with a friend back home.
“…and you would miss out on what the Lord’s doing there?”
“Our God is omnipresent,” I retorted, “I’ll see Him move wherever I am, it doesn’t have to be here.”
I woke up today and immediately checked the clock. 6:30am. ‘Sabbath,’ I sighed with relief. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this.’
When my body is in agreeance with the rest of me, I love getting up early. And since the sun rises here at 5am (an irrefutable pro), 6:30 is considered sleeping in (to me, at least). Earlier mornings mean the opportunity for longer quiet times, so I gathered my things, grabbed my favorite instant coffee packet (iykyk), and headed to the far side of the homestead in hopes for some solitude.
A lovely thing about the Lord is that He enjoys when we simply want to be with Him, something I’ve challenged myself to practice more this year. And so, I sat, finished setting up my journal for the month, conversing with God.
“Hey, dude,” I said, branding my pens in washi tape, “I… need your help. I need your joy. My thoughts are not fun and I need your help giving me good ones…”
So we sat together in the silence.
***
“Oh my gosh,” I sat with my mouth hanging open, “Oh my goodness… That’s absolutely pathetic.”
Minutes later, I had come to the conclusion that I needed resilience. I hadn’t even bothered to realize that this month was actually something the Lord and I had discussed, and rather than asking for the strength to endure, I was asking for a way out.
December 30th, 2023, I sat in Panera, finishing up the journal entry of the year.
“2024… what do you have for me…?” I tapped my pen against my chin, awaiting insight.
And unlike 2023– a year promised to be full of life, light, and lovable people– 2024’s vision seemed to be much more… weighty. There was new depth awaiting in 2024. It was a year to learn new levels of faith, and there would be a pushing of my flesh– my sinful, lazy, pleasure-driven flesh– aside. Not that there wouldn’t be good times, but there was more to explore. Depth doesn’t come from sitting on the shore– it was time to dive in, and to remain in the water.
And here I was, in the water I’d committed to, and I was complaining about getting wet.
Shaking awake from that memory, I realized my brain needed a shift.
This month was what I had asked for. I wanted to be pushed. And here I was throwing a tantrum because my days were too hot, too long, and too buggy. And in that moment, I discovered I was here to learn about what resilience truly meant, even in the minuscule complaint of abundant humidity. My faith is far past infancy, but here I was kicking and screaming because my environment wasn’t a perfect 73 degrees.
And my mindset shifted. This month wasn’t about picking the wrong country or seeing how I could make it go faster– I had specifically agreed for the Lord to take me through a season that would teach me resilience. He was so kind as to grant my request.
And as I write this, with beads of sweat forming even after a refreshing bucket shower, I recognize my days will still be long, hot, sweaty, and full of too many wasps, snakes, and mosquitos. But now I see. Yahweh was so kind as to pick me up from my place on the ground– screaming, crying, kicking– and set me across His back, bouncing me into right understanding.
It wasn’t finally receiving the ball that made the little girl stop crying. It was the comfort of someone bigger than the situation who loved her to come and comfort her. It isn’t the 73 degrees that’ll makes this month better (seeing as this Wednesday’s high is 103), it’ll be the One who has shown me He loves me enough to allow me a month like this one.
“Let the little children come to me,” Jesus said. Thank goodness He was talking about you and me.
Bread Crumbs 
Leave a reply to Faith Kitts Cancel reply