Dancing--or as close to it as this Southern Baptist girl gets

These are just some of the great pictures Sarah Beth took while RamCorps was here. These were all taken at Hinkson Christian Academy, a school for MKs here in Moscow.

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness, that my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give thanks to You forever. Psalm 30:11-12

I think one of the great gifts of God is a time that is exhausting spiritually. A time where there is absolutely nothing left to you but Him. A face-on-the-floor, outcry to God kind of time. My supposition is that if you have never experienced those kinds of times, you cannot truly appreciate the sweet joy of fellowship with the Father. If you have not gone through a time when you felt like you were totally alone, you cannot know the pure joy of knowing that you simply are never alone. And so, this morning I am thankful for those times of testing, of "wilderness training," because they have led me to this place. And this place, where I am resting in the right hand of God Almighty, is worth whatever troubles I had to go through to get here.

Why write about this today? In my quiet time in Titus this morning (I am studying through all of Paul's letters), I came upon a verse I usually avoid at all costs. Many years ago, someone showed up in our driveway with that verse (and many others) on a card, an explanation as to why it was God's will that Marc and I be cut out of friendships that had grown very important to us. It was the beginning of what would become the hardest two years of our spiritual lives, a time when God would stretch us and test us in ways that we could not, then, even imagine. They were two years of deep, deep spiritual pain. I refer to those as the white-knuckle years, because the only way we held on to our spiritual lives, the only way we held on to our christianity, was by simply grabbing on and refusing to let go. Imagine being involved with a group of people whom you loved and adored, and suddenly being told that you just weren't spiritually good enough to be friends with them anymore. Imagine trying to explain to your children why those people didn't speak to you anymore. There is no way I can convey the hurt and pain that are wrapped up in my memories of those years.

But you know what? It was in those years that we answered God's call on our lives. It was in those years that we learned a whole lot about what mercy and compassion really are. It was in those years that we found out what true friendship looks like. It was in those years that we found out what real loneliness was, and discovered that if we had each other, it was okay to sit home every weekend. It was in those years that God prepared us the most for this time in our lives, because it was in those years that we really discovered--in our hearts as well as our heads--that Christ alone is enough. It was in those years that we learned the truth of the verses in Psalms where David says that even if an army of thousands comes against me, I will not be shaken. It was in those years that the value of God as our hiding place, our refuge, our rock and our Redeemer became not just words on a page, but words indelibly inscribed on the deepest parts of who we are. It was in those years that I became who I am today. And so, I can choose--honestly--to be grateful for lessons learned, for hearts healed, for wisdom gained.

When we were finishing our candidate conference, our group leader spoke to each one of us about what he saw in us as people and as prospective missionaries. When he came to Marc, he smiled and said that Marc had a tenderness, a genuine compassion for people that is unusual in men. He said, "I believe you are a person who mourns with those who mourn, who rejoices with those who rejoice." He ended his remarks by saying that Marc struck him as someone who did not judge others, but had great mercy in his heart for other people, and that this quality would make him so useful on the field. And he was absolutely right about each of those things, and they are qualities that have served him so well on the field. It struck me then, and again this morning as I read that verse I have avoided for so long, that without the experience of being judged, without the experience of being treated with no mercy or compassion, Marc likely would not be as compassionate or merciful or tender or sensitive to the hurts of others. God used that time to create in him a heart He could use. He knew where we were headed, even though--at the time--the mission field was the farthest thing from our minds.

Isn't He good? I love it when I can look back and see such purpose in the trials and tribulations of life. Perhaps this morning, you are going through something hard and awful. Or maybe you are looking at a time when you could have been a little more merciful, a little less judgmental. (Don't we all have those times? I know I do.) In either case, let me encourage you with this thought--God is faithful and active. He is always at work. In the hard times, He is doing something amazing in us. In the times when we don't act like we should, He's doing something then, too. He's always teaching us lessons about how to be more like Him. We just have to choose to pay attention. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you can clearly see the ways God is actively at work even in the most trying circumstances in your life, and that you had a wonderful day yesterday when you ran around in your pajama pants all day. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye