It was a few weeks ago, as I sat at a desk in someone else’s home, studying for my final exam, when the rain started to drizzle down, then pour.
For weeks and weeks I had been out of my apartment, repairs/renovation/youdon’twanttoknow were going on and a move-back-in date was uncertain. So there I was, sitting in another person’s home, probably my seventh “home” since arriving in the USA from China just a few months ago. And it felt so good.
A gift, Lord. You are so good – so kind! – to me.
For years, probably forever, one of my mini, selfish priorities has been comfort. I like a comfortable bed, a pillow, a place to call my own and ideally some convenience and predictability. But lately, the Good Father has been teaching me that He is enough. So much more than enough. Unfathomably sufficient. All I need.
And in the richness of His kindness He gently stripped away layers of protection around what I thought was a fragile person, and showed me through the power of His grace that, yeah, He really is enough. A bed? A pillow? A place to call my own? No, I don’t actually need any of those things. I can sleep on the floor – I didn’t know that I could, I honestly thought that it was impossible, but I can! Through Him who strengthens me, yeah? So, so faithful… I asked the Lord to prepare me for whatever and for wherever He will one day lead, and now I sit here, overwhelmed with how faithful He has been, and how gentle He has been.
The uncomfortableness of literally being homeless for moments (but there was always someone who would take me in, so it was really only moments)? It was glorious, a glorious poverty.
So I sat there, the rain pouring down, writing flashcards and refreshing myself on metabolic acidosis and other such things, and meditating on how good God has been to me.
The journey He has led me on the last two years has been exhausting and exhilarating. The first nine months in Inner Mongolia were similar to re-opening a wound that had never healed well. All of the emotions of the four years previous, the deaths of babies I loved with everything I had… the trauma of people coming and going, of uncertainties and growing up so much in such a new place… all of those hard things were overwhelmed with trials and tribulations and even some despair. But it was all part of His plan, because He’s good like that. And so, when it came time to go to the USA (the last place I wanted to go, just being honest) last year, I did, but found that it was the most refreshing gift. Because those wounds that were freshly open and oozing and sore? They were perfectly prepared for healing (granulation, medical folks), and so last year the Lord worked a mighty work of restoration in my soul and spirit, so that when I returned to Inner Mongolia again, at the beginning of this year, everything was new.
Joy. Adventure. The good news. Oh, it was all just so, so good. I don’t even have the words to explain, I just want to quote half of the Psalms, all of Isaiah, some of Zechariah and a bit of Habakkuk and then 1 John because He brings forth new life. He really does!
And now this season? This indescribably wonderful season of growing in the knowledge of Him? It’s made all the more precious because of the trials. It’s made all the more precious because He is holding my hand tightly, “Come, daughter, let me lead you through these things – My Promises, and you will see just how great I really am.”
What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!