Why the Boy Threw the Clock Out the Window

Why did the boy throw the clock out the window?

So he could see time fly!

Well, my friends, I do not have to throw my clock out the window to see time fly...it is already flying by far too fast as it is. I was astonished this morning when I realized that it has been six whole months since I first set foot in Zambia, Africa on a one-month-long missions trip.

Six months.

Sometimes it seems like six years, and other times it seems like yesterday.

Not a day goes by that I don't think about this strange, special place that has so occupied my mind, and the wonderful, beautiful people who have so occupied my very heart.

The day I arrived home, my thoughts were so full of Africa that I could not sleep without dreaming Zambia, could not speak without telling about Zambia, could not eat without recalling the Zambian food that had sustained me for a whole month, could not think without remembering Zambia, could not even walk down the street without seeing something that brought back memories of Zambia like a flash. Every taste, every sight, every smell, every sound startled me, either because of its similarity to my beautiful Zambia or because of its stark opposition.

I welcomed the memories. I held on to the dreams.

I thought, "Soon the day will come when you won't think about Zambia every waking hour, so enjoy it while you can." Well, "that day" still hasn't arrived. I still think of Zambia every day, although thankfully with a little less intensity than in the beginning.

When I was preparing to go to Zambia, so completely unaware of what my future held there, I thought, "When a place really grabs ahold of someone's heart, sometimes after they return they'll sob uncontrollably into their pillows at night because of their longing to be back in that special place. I wonder if I'll be like that."

You'd think. At least, you would if you knew how emotional I can be.

I was wrong. After I returned, I would clutch at my pillow, wishing I could tear it to shreds or punch it or throw it through the window, because I couldn't cry even when I tried to make myself. I wondered why. I still do. Only now I know, as I could not have guessed before I went to Zambia, that my desire to cry, the steady ache in my heart, the overwhelming parade of thoughts that came every single day and night...now I know that these did not come because of the beautiful, special place I was in. I was not longing for the scrubby trees or the red dirt or even the vast display of stars that shone overhead each night.

I was longing for the people.

In Zambia, a very wise person told me this: "It's not the places you go, it's the people you're with."

I can't think of a single thing in that statement that I could possibly argue with in this case.

Sure, I miss the scenery. Sure, I miss the beautiful stars. Okay, and sure, I even miss the pet cat that sat outside of my cabin door and squalled at me. I could cry for those things. (Well, maybe not for the cat...)

It is the relationships, the new friends, the new family that God gave to me. Somehow I had never realized that after meeting all of these people, after blessing them and being so blessed in return, that a day would come when I would have to say goodbye.

It is the prayers, the tears, and the laughter that tug at my heartstrings. It is the spiritual conversations, the lively debates, the beautiful fellowship, the singing and dancing that make me so happy, and yet so full of longing. It is the joy I saw written on so many faces, the chorus of "Amen, and praise the Lord!" that spilled from their lips, the eagerness of young men and women to share the gospel that both inspires me and causes me to miss these people very deeply.

I was so convicted, so challenged, so broken by God there. I was uplifted and renewed. I was changed. I was taught a great many things that, without this trip to Zambia, would have likely taken years to learn in some other not-so-challenge-ridden environment.

I am so blessed.

The pain of being separated from the Africans and the American missionaries I met there is bittersweet, my friends. Bittersweet. There is pain, yes. There are moments of "I-wish-I-could-just-let-it-all-out," yes. But in the midst of those moments, there is yet a Hallelujah chorus playing in my ears.

Without my Lord and Savior, my life would only have the bitter and none of the sweet. Without bitter, there is no sweet. My life is richer having spent one month serving in Africa -- if only I could explain to you how much richer! And my life after serving in Africa has been richer and fuller than I would have thought possible the day I stepped back into the United States of America. Since I have returned, God has presented to me opportunities to make His name -- and His glorious salvation! -- known to others, opportunities that I can clearly see that He prepared ME for while I was in Zambia.

Even as I think of my dear brothers- and sisters-in-Christ who are in Africa and am filled with the desire to return there someday, I know full well that I am blessed in my pain. To be filled with such good memories -- so good that my heart still aches when I think of them -- is a blessing indeed.

Many of the Psalmists who begin their songs with lamentation and cries to the Lord for help will often conclude with a praise to the Lord. From their sorrow and anger they will do an about-face, sometimes so abruptly that it is almost startling, and begin to bless the Lord for His lovingkindness and faithfulness in the midst of their hurting.

As I close here, I want you to know that I am doing the same in my heart. I began with a measure of confusion and frustration, but it is with gladness that I think of what God has done through my trip to Africa and what He is doing still.

Bless the Lord, O my soul!
Praise the Lord!

Falling in Love

Once upon a time, there was a young girl. She was too young to know what love was.

Once upon a time, there was a also a man. He knew what love was, and when he saw that young woman, love is what he had for her.

At first the girl was too young to think of him as a love interest. But as she grew older, she heard his name mentioned more and more often. Her parents spoke of him with loving smiles, and her friends with shining eyes. This man was kind and unselfish, continually sacrificing his own desires so that he could serve others. What was not to like?

Finally the girl admitted it. She was interested in him. He sounded quite...extraordinary. But of course he would never notice her. It was impossible!

But he did notice her. He prompted her parents to ask her if she would consider getting to know him better.

With joy, the girl listened attentively to the offer. She spoke with her parents late into the night. They talked of how this decision would affect her life; how getting to know this man would have its difficult and rewarding moments; how she would have to either accept or deny his proposal.

She decided excitedly that she was willing, even eager, to get to know him. With tears in her eyes, she said, "I accept..."

Her life was never the same after that.

She fairly floated up the stairs to bed that night, shivers of excitement coursing up and down her arms.

As you may have already guessed, this girl was me.

The man?

Jesus Christ my Lord.

He saw my sin and my mess and, unfathomably, loved me in spite of it. I accepted His prompting and acknowledged Him as my Lord and Savior...the only One who could save me from my sin. Just as my parents told me, my life was forever changed. I've had very challenging times in my walk with Him, as well as incredibly fulfilling ones. He has never failed me yet.

But I think perhaps this aforementioned young woman still doesn't know as much about love as one would think. So a short while later, as she was wondering what on earth it would be like to have a husband and to be in love, she got out a notebook and wrote down some things:

When I am in love...

I will want...

-to be with my man all the time, day or night;
-to talk to him about anything, exciting and mundane alike;
-to serve him;
-to show him how much I love him by doing nice things for him;
-to work beside him, play beside him, laugh and cry beside him;
-to give him good gifts;
-to simply watch him and learn about him. There will never be an end to the things I will find out about him;
-to do his will--whatever he asks--with a cheerful smile;
-to find out what he thinks about certain things;
-to read our texts and emails over and over again;
-to go out of my way to do things that please him;
-to treasure his gifts to me, and not allow them to get ruined by someone else;
-to tell others about how amazing he is.

I will...

-think back to the time when I didn't know him and wonder how I survived;
-feel warmth and a sense of pride when I hear someone praise him, as though they were praising me;
-draw comfort and courage from him when he is with me.

When he goes away I will long for his safe return, for the time when we will be together again.

I want to KNOW him inside and out.

 When the list was halfway completed, tears began to spill out of this young woman's eyes as she realized suddenly that the way she desired to love her husband was the same way she wanted to love her Savior. What would it be like to long to speak with God, to pore over His word the way one would pore over a love letter, to treasure His gifts, to continually serve Him with cheerfulness?

That's the way a girl should be in love with her God.

That's the way I want to be in love with my God.