I know, you're not a priest, and you may not want to hear it. But I'm going to tell you anyway, because it's all part of a story that I am sure is going to change my life.
I didn't want to go to Honduras.
Oh, there it is. Out in the open.
I kept telling myself there were bigger, better things for me to do. I kept convincing myself that it was okay that I was muffling out the fire in my heart. I kept saying, "If I wait long enough, no one will ask anymore."
And eventually, I got into what I thought would be the safety zone.
6 weeks before the trip. NO way to get my passport in that time. NO way to get $800 in that time. NO way anyone would continue to ask.
But-I spoke too soon.
Nicole kept asking, Taylor kept prying, Stephanie kept pushing, and Mom kept forcing.
I did everything I could, until it got to the point of actually forgetting that there was even a Honduras trip at all. And when someone asked, I'd reply with a simple, "ehh...I dunno...I don't think I can..."
Until one day, my Mom pulled me by the arm to Barry, and said to him, "She wants to go."
There it was. The statement I had been avoiding for weeks. Even months.
"She wants to go."
"She wants to go."
I thought I didn't want to go. But my Mom knew better.
I did want to go. I wanted, with everything in me, to go to Honduras. But I suppressed those thoughts, and convinced myself there was no reason, no way I could, and no possible way anyone wanted to go.
Barry began calling out the things I needed to do, "Passport, $800, talk to the lady who's booking flights, make sure you have everything, etc, etc, etc."
No way in heck I'm going on this trip.
Even after that, it took a lot of convincing to send out letters. It took me another week to get the letters out, so I had 5 weeks to get $800 from all over the world, from different family members and companies.
After I got all my letters printed, it took me another day to get them enveloped and addressed and stamped.
We went in, and got my passport.
4-6 weeks.
My heart sky-rocketed.
God, do you want me to go?
Soon after, I got an e-mail from my Great Aunt, telling me she was so proud of the things I was doing, and wanted to send me $100. I was shocked.
God...do you want me to go?
And slowly, the money kept coming in. Person by person, letter by letter, question by question, it all came pouring in.
Each and every time...
God, do you want me to go?
It wasn't until I got my passport that I knew I was supposed to go.
It came in the mail while I was branding. When I came home, I woke up in the morning, and was reading and writing. Steph told me she had a gift, and to hold out my hands and close my eyes.
She placed in my hand that little book, and I wanted to cry.
God, you are here. You obviously want me to go. I'm sorry, for refusing you, for not wanting to go where you're wanting me to go.
Thank you, God. For pulling this together even when I told you no.
Today Barry's sermon was about following Jesus' example. It's not only about knowing the word, but obeying the word.
Discovering God in everywhere you are. It's not only about going to different countries, and doing big things, but doing exactly what God wants where you are.
Ask God for opportunity. Want His plan in every opportunity.
The reality is-it is not about me.
So, here I am, the night before, freaking out a little bit.
And I have to keep reminding myself that it is not about me, but it is about God.
I need to be that example whether I want to go or not. I need to want to go, because it's where God wants me to go.
It breaks my heart that I ever told him no, that I ever refused His plan, even when I knew it was where I was meant to go.
My confession is:
I am a selfish human being.
And I need God's grace just like everybody else.
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