Friday's Journal

Tonight I’m sat out here on the dock feeling immensely frustrated and I can’t put a finger on why….perhaps it’s because the realisation that I’ll be leaving this place has rendered me close to tears more than once today, or perhaps it’s the prospect of being on duty all weekend. But whichever, I really have no reason to be. God is doing something big…off the back of Tuesday night, turns out that this week’s community meeting was solely a time of worship. I’d also ended up on the worship team for that; a team of long-term crew, which was a real privilege and a blessing. It was a powerful time, much needed by the crew, but even more necessary as part of this ongoing battle we are facing. Mercy Ships is once again under the attack of the allegations of organ stealing. It’s gotten more serious, become a safety threat, and the president is involved. But regardless, as we stand up in worship and proclaim God, we are re-aligning ourselves with his purposes and plans, and declaring that He has the victory. In me personally, again it feels like something is shifting…like my heartbeat is becoming more aligned with the beat of God’s heart. In the message version of the gospel of Matthew, it talks about God’s unforced rhythms of grace. I feel like I’m moving in that rhythm, having more confidence to act upon what I hear from God. But right now, I’m feeling a little weary, and also a little broken. I’m not really sure I can handle leaving here again. I kind of came looking for either open doors or closure, and I don’t feel like I’ve yet discovered either.

Today at the Orphanage, little Princess went somewhat weird on me. At first I just thought she was a bit upset with me taking my sunglasses back, but then she began wailing some kind of incantation. It took me a little while to realise, but Brenda began praying over her and almost instantly she was smiling and bubbly again. It’s all too easy to get caught up in the fun and games, the smiles and the love, and to forget the tragic situations that write the histories of each of these children’s lives. It took me back to that week of Segue where we spent every afternoon listening to and recording the children’s stories, and then subsequently every evening on our knees in a heart-wrenching combination of tears and prayers.

This life that He has called me to certainly hurts sometimes. Sometimes all I want is for God to heal my heart, and other times I’m really kind of OK with the brokenness. I think that’s maybe how we’re supposed to be sometimes.

But right now I’m just going to sit here on the end of the dock, overlooking the dark city of Monrovia in what would be silence (if it weren’t for the sirens of the unloading cargo ship across the port) and see what God wants to speak to me tonight. I have a feeling it might be one of those tear-prayer combination times.