Entrusted.

I’m gonna be honest.  Before I left Zambia to come visit my friends and family here in America, I was pretty nervous.  I have truly created a life that I LOVE in Zambia, and I was not very excited to leave all of it behind for a month.  I was worried that I would be homesick and miserable, unable to be truly present with my friends and family.  I was prepared for the culture shock, the discomfort, the frustration and the longing to go back to Zambia.

But that’s not what I got.

Sure, the first few days weren’t so easy.  I did feel out of place at times.  I did have to pray hard that God would kill my pride and help me get over myself.  I did have to remember that there are good, generous, loving people in America too.  I did have trouble.  But then something crazy happened.

I got over it.  I settled in.

It happened so fast, that it actually scared me.  This was seriously the last thing I had expected.  Not once have I “missed” America since being in Zambia.  Yes, of course I’ve missed the PEOPLE in America…but there’s been nothing about the American lifestyle that I’ve really longed for.

For the first time, I began questioning whether or not I’m supposed to be in Zambia long-term.  It used to be so clear that my destiny was in Zambia because I was practically MISERABLE living here in the States.  My heart was somewhere else, and I didn’t feel fully alive until I moved to work with Haven of Hope.  That made the decision easy.  That made it feel like the exact opposite of a sacrifice.  It was so simple, so clear.  I was making the life-sustaining option.  Anything else would leave me empty and without purpose. 

But when I started to adjust back to American life, Satan saw his opportunity to plant doubt.  He made me comfortable.  He made me feel normal.  He made me think things like, “What IF I came back to America to teach?  Maybe I WOULDN’T feel as miserable as I did before.  Maybe I could actually do more good for Haven of Hope from America.  I could make lots of money and send it to the kids, rather than having to ask people for money every year!”  This option would certainly be the easier choice.  I wouldn’t be hurting my family and friends who I know miss me and wish God’s plan for my life kept me a little bit closer to them.  I wouldn’t have to constantly be depending on the generosity of others and the miraculous power of God.  Like I said, it would be EASIER. 

And while I think my heart knew easier does NOT equal better, I was scared.  It was seriously the first time in this whole process since last December that I had doubted whether or not God was truly CALLING me to Zambia.  And if you know me at all, you know that doubt of any kind tends to paralyze me.  I’ve mentioned before how fickle I can be and how much I fear making the wrong choice, and I had rested for so long in the belief that I was called to Zambia.  But all of a sudden, it felt like maybe that calling wasn’t so strong anymore, and I was terrified.

I didn’t even know what words I wanted to write in my journal.  Didn’t know the questions to ask or the fears I was having.  I couldn’t talk to anyone about it because I was terrified they would either convince me that maybe my doubts meant I SHOULD move back to America or that they would think I’m the worst person in the world for losing sight of my dream so quickly.  I do what I do best, and I avoided it.  I knew I needed to be spending time with Him, seeking His face and His guidance through the word, but I didn’t.  I waited.  I knew that my mom and I would be attending Uprise, a leadership conference here in Lexington today, and I begged God that He would meet me there.  That we would finally have time to get down and do business.  That whatever was going on in my heart, whatever Satan was trying to accomplish, would be made clear and dealt with. 

And that’s exactly what happened.

The whole day was challenging and I learned a lot, but it wasn’t until the last session that God and I had our moment.  My pastor was talking about snares that trap us and keep us from reaching our full potential in leadership, and he described how Satan uses negative experiences, labels and lies to make us scared.  We play it safe and eventually become ineffective.  We were given broken pieces of stone to write the words or events that have haunted us and stalled our ministry.  At first, I wrote the easy things like betrayals in my life and the places of unforgiveness.  But then I wrote the things that I didn’t even really know were there.  Things that I have allowed Satan whisper in my ear for YEARS.  Things that I had accepted for so long that I didn’t even think twice about them.  Things that had never seemed dangerous, but things that I was finally realizing were crippling me.  Holding me back.  Making me fight scared.  Making me doubt.  Words like silly, irresponsible, young, naïve, indecisive, unfaithful, lazy, wrong, inadequate, alone.  It was like a light went off.

My pastor then informed us that we would be throwing these stones away and exchanging them for new stones with new words.  Words from God’s mouth.  Words that are true and grace-filled and life-giving.  There were stones in the front of the room that had hundreds of these words on them and we were told we would KNOW which one was meant for us; we would know the word God wanted to use for redefining who we are in Him.  I had a few thoughts about what new word I needed God to give me to make me feel empowered to continue my ministry in Zambia, but I told Him I was ready to hear whatever He had for me.  I waited till most everyone had gone to the front, and then I made my way to the pile of words.  I watched a man dig through the pile and push aside some words.  I saw words like forgiving and beautiful and reconciled and true and brave and equipped.  All great words, but not my words.  And then I saw the man move aside another word.  Entrusted.  It was like Jesus simply whispered, “That’s it, Ame.  That’s your word.”  I tried not to seem too eager as I grab it from the man’s throw-away pile, but I picked it up and tried to fight back the tears.  It was exactly what I needed to hear.  Suddenly all the other words on my first rock were erased.  It didn’t matter that maybe I AM a silly, irresponsible girl at times; that I CAN be fickle and doubt every decision I’ve ever made; that in the world’s eyes I AM too young and naïve and the only white person in my ministry.  It didn't matter how I feel about Zambia or America or how comfortable I may be in one versus the other.  It didn’t even matter whether I’m called to Zambia for the rest of this year or the rest of my life.  All that mattered in that moment was that Jesus was making abundantly clear that for NOW, for this season in my life, I have been entrusted with 33 of His most dearly beloved children.  Satan and I could come up with a long list of reasons why I’m the LAST person who should have this responsibility, but this word stops that list in its tracks.  It stands in the face of my self-doubt and the lies I’ve believed and it wins.  It trumps all.  Because the King of Heaven believes in me.  The dictionary definition of entrust is to “commit to another with confidence.”  He has confidence in ME.  He doesn’t see me as silly or irresponsible or naïve or lazy.  He sees me as trustworthy.

So no, I may not know what comes after this year.  I may not have all the answers.  But God doesn’t want or expect me to.  All He wants me to know is that He has entrusted me with the job of loving and leading these students, and that’s ALL I need to know.  My only job at this point is to say yes.  To keep carrying on.  To keep doing His work.  He’ll go before me.  He’ll figure out all the how’s and the why’s and the when’s and the what’s and the who’s.  That’s part of the journey.  Trusting Him to take control of the stuff while I focus on what He’s really calling me to do.  And while that’s much easier to say than do, I’m praying that He continually reteaches me this truth.  Reteaches me how to never lose sight of who I am and who I’m called to be.

I am Amy and I am entrusted.