I watched her
raise her hand, three fingers stood tall while her thumb and pointer formed a
shaky circle. She put her other hand on my low back, as always, and smiled.
“It’s okay.” She said quietly, and tears filled her brown eyes.
Slowly they
sank down her freckled cheek and were quickly dried by the Asian sun. “It’s
okay,” She repeated, squeezing my hand, “Tomorrow is Monday.”
***
Well,
tomorrow wasn’t Monday. Tomorrow was Saturday, and Friday was the last day I
spent—and very well may ever spend—in
Laos.
It’s amazing
to me how attached I became to the environment, culture, and people of Laos in
a mere twenty eight days.
***
Gods’ power is this:
That
even in the midst of my sin
Even
concerning the most evil passions of my heart
Even
beside all these lies I am told and believe
Even
when I cannot, or do not, or will not
See
His grace
Even
when I consider myself as nothing
Even
when I am cornered by condemnation,
Or
devastated by despair,
Or
distracted by temptation,
Enslaved
to entitlement,
Controlled
by anxiety,
Berated
by doubts,
Too
skeptical to trust,
Hardened,
willingly.
Even
in my outright disobedience,
In
my sleepless nights of fear,
In
my confusion,
Mistakes,
Or
poor decisions.
Even
in my immaturity,
My
broken, empty promises,
My
bargaining,
My
divisive judgementalism
My
pride, which permeates even the most
“Earnest”
of actions.
Even
in my slothfulness,
My
lack of motivation.
My
moments of rage at Him,
At
you,
At
the Church,
At
myself.
My
months—or years—of bitterness.
Even
in my forgetfulness,
My
assumptions,
My
ignorance.
Even
when he calls me outward and I am
SO.
INCREDIBLY.
INWARDLY FOCUSED.
Even
though my past so often defines my present,
And
future.
Even
though I only seldom recognize his miracles and given him praise.
Even
though I try to atone for my transgressions.
Even
though my flesh and the enemy tell me none of this is true.
Even
though it has only been two years:
HE
USES ME.
He
uses me for God honoring relationships.
He
uses me to teach.
He
uses me to laugh and be laughed at.
He
uses me to spread joy.
He
uses me to inspire others—
Individuals
who otherwise may never know what they are capable of.
He
uses me for healing,
For
reconciliation.
He
uses me to be an extension of his perfect, heavenly grace.
He
uses me to talk and to listen at just the right moments.
To
tell his sons and daughters across the world that they are loved and blessed,
In
the midst of painful persecution.
He
uses me to promote peace, forgiveness, selflessness, unity.
He
uses me to work, work, work for his kingdom.
He
uses me as an example of redemption,
As
salt to the earth,
Bright,
shining impalpable light in the wake of thick darkness.
As
a mouthpiece for the Gospel.
As
a mere servant, and nothing more.
How this is
possible I do not know.
But as I sat
on a couch in Thailand, and read the broken English words of a student I met four
weeks ago,
As I was
brought to humble tears by his gratitude of our work, requests for prayers and exhortation
to never forget…
It hit me
that this,
As simple as it may be,
THIS is
God’s power.
And nothing
in this world (or, in my heart) can disrupt it.
***
I let go of
her squeezing hand and found my balance, my luggage, and the largest smile I could
muster. One of our students came towards me, shook my hand and placed his other
on my shoulder, “Thank you, Lyric, for all you taught us. We learned so much
and we will not stop praying for you.”
Another young
man asked to say something. Our translator repeated his kind words, “Although
we wish you could stay longer, we know that this is the time God wants you to
return. We are glad he brought you to us and so glad you served him through us.
I know he has amazing things for you, and we will always pray for you. We may
never see each other again, but I know I will see you one day in Heaven.
Although we are of different languages and nationalities, we are one in the
family of Christ.”
I walked--or
rather, was dragged by obligation--forth and did not look back, for soon I knew
my countenance would break and emotion would win me over. Across the point of
no return we went and then, without warning, the reality of their absence
struck my heart and my eyes swelled with tears.
As we entered
the other country, the weight of memories bore me down. I asked Him why it made
sense that we only were able to stay 28 days, why we couldn’t do more. Inspire
more change, enliven more hearts…
Then, he
answered me…through a t-shirt.
A yellow cut
off worn by a Thai I will never know, inscripted boldly with the comforting
words of my sovereign father:
“EVERY LITTLE HELPS.”
