Sitting in service Wednesday night tears began streaming down my face. Pastor was talking about the experience of walking into the school cafeteria, looking around to spot someone he knew, and the sense of relief at being able to join his people. He used that to encourage us to see others and include them in our circles. Tears continued to flow, not from conviction, but because I have been without a group that has the feeling of my people for SO long. We are approaching the 5 year anniversary of when we found out we would no longer be pastoring. Since then I have been in a constant state of limbo, without “my people”.
First we needed to distance ourselves from the congregation we left despite still living in the same community. We spent a little over a year in another local congregation and felt at home there in that we loved pastors and loved their worship, but we failed to build relationships in the body outside of church. I recovered from a state of depression in that church and dared to believe that God would still use me, but by the time I was healthy and ready to serve it was time for another transition.
We applied summer 2021 to be missionaries with Assemblies of God, but our interview didn’t happen until January 2022. And even then we were invited to wait a year without knowing whether or not we would be accepted at the end of the year. In the waiting we worked and spent 3 months serving in Italy.
We were invited to return and be launched as missionaries from the church we had previously pastored, but it no longer felt like home to me. Then once we were finally approved as missionaries we were constantly on the road and not able to build relationship with the new people at our old church. I consider it a privilege to share the story of our call and to invite people to give God their yes every week. I much enjoy getting to hear people’s stories as we chat over lunch. Even so, it is hard emotionally not to encounter a group of “my people” regularly, to be always the outsider even when welcomed warmly.
Next came the limbo of my husband’s cancer diagnosis. Finally into the swing of itineration, we found out he needed his colon resected and six months of chemo. We chose to believe there would be a positive outcome, yet there was the physical and mental effects on top of the underlying uncertainty of our future.
When treatment was over it took time for our itineration schedule to pick back up. Now here we are in our 26th month of full-time itineration, STILL under 80% of our budget, knowing that we are way past the deadline. My mouth says the Lord will provide, but my heart often wonders. It’s time for our next newsletter to be printed. What do I say? Honestly, I am ashamed to be here still, yet I must find words that are hopeful.
Years of limbo without being able to lean on “my people” are taking an emotional toll on me. Today I am reminded of when my 3rd child was born. I did not get the epidural that time because I was doing so well until the last 25 minutes. When it was time to push there were moments I honestly felt like I can’t do this. The thing is, when you are in the middle of delivery, the only option is to finish. Here I am, trying to push through the last 20% of our fundraising. My emotional tank is empty, but I can’t stop now. For real, it FEELS like this is NEVER going to end.
I am not comforted by the knowledge that even when we finish this last 20% and finally make it to the field, it will still take years to learn the language and culture. How much longer will it be before I can feel like I am among “my people”? When I come home for furlough after our first term, will I be a stranger yet again? Will I ever be “home” again this side of heaven?
Lord, give me strength to carry on. Thank you for meeting me in worship time and again as I gather with yet another group of strangers.
To the Ends of the Earth 