(This is post #2 in my Resurrection Series I’m hosting here on the blog. To read the story of this series click here. And if you missed my first guest, you can find her words here.)
I’m honored to have a few friends joining me with their voices during this season of remembering redemption.
I met Karin along the banks of the Frio River at The High Calling Retreat two years ago. Her quiet, contemplative style of conversation and writing was mesmerizing to me. She has a gentle patience and kind words for all that cross her path.
And her path led her from frigid Canada to the mission field in Africa. I love a woman who follows bravely, boots shaking and all, into the call she hears. I know you will be blessed by her honest, poetic words here.
Sunday Morning Hope
The words below will take you into the center of the storm that swept me off my feet last Spring. Now, a year into Zambian life, God’s redemptive work in my life continues. I am not what I was; I am not yet what I will be. But I know beyond knowing that I am truly His…
I’ve always been one to appreciate the beauty of God’s handiwork displayed as the sun begins it’s ascent in the morning sky.
Yet the darkness seemed to be settling in deep, driving me inwards, even as the light dawned.
God’s glory hovering over Malawi was a call we never doubted. Wide eyed, innocent and willing to be obedient, we hungrily stepped into our first full time mission assignment. In a very short time the things we expected, the life we thought we would be living and the work we had felt called to do was crumbling in our hands. I didn’t and don’t know what to do with the disappointment.
Like Christ’s disciples on the day following His crucifixion how could I imagine life would continue? I completed whatever tasks were given to me, never certain if my work was sufficient. Frightened of failure, I couldn’t reconcile with the idea of giving up but did not know how to move forward.
Stuck and shaken, weeks passed living in the lonely space between Good Friday and Easter morning; between what was and what isn’t yet. I could only see what I was losing, tender budding relationships with Malawian people who had crawled straight into my heart.
I stopped talking to my Lord, certain he would see me as I saw myself, faulty and not up to the assignment He had set before me. I stepped off the only Rock that could sustain me and the world spun with a fierceness that stripped my breath.
Have you been there, convinced that somehow God stopped paying attention, didn’t care, leaving you desolate and shaking?
Jesus, how could you leave us? What about the Kingdom You promised? Now what are we to do? We can only assume what those who had followed Christ were thinking during those long hours of in-between.
There is a day after Saturday; for them, for you and for me. When I was so weary I couldn’t reach for Him, He reached down and lifted me. When my words ran dry, His were fresh, true and life sustaining.
You are looking for Me in the ashes. I Am not there, I have risen.
The same power that lifted Me from the tomb resides in you. This is not the end of the road, far, far from it. Rise then, to new plans and purposes, designed by My hand.
I am breathing again, gulping life. This is not an end to the road, just a redirection. We will not work in Malawi, but we will serve where He chooses. I know He will use me, broken and frail.
Hopes once crushed have been resurrected, bold and bright as Sunday morning.
~Karin
I am:
a handmaiden of the Lord saved by His grace
a worshipper
a poet
a broken heart
a lover of words hungry for truth
amazed by love on the Potter’s wheel
His work in progress.
I am a sold out disciple of Jesus Christ learning more each day what it means to abide in Him I desire to walk in radical obedience to His voice. I pray that my life brings glory to The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit. Me and my beloved husband Rick are learning and serving in Africa living and loving for His glory
~Karin (Flickers of a Faithful Firefly)
