A time for everything

Life is filled with goodbyes. It's just the nature of it. We say goodbye to single life when we get married, goodbye to money when we buy a house, goodbye to our favourite childhood dress when we finally grow out of it. Seasons reflect this too. Leaves fall off trees, rain washes away dust, the sun melts the snow.
With the goodbyes come 'hello's' as we bring in the change- moving home, gaining new friends, seeing the sun after months of grey sky...

We can't expect to stay in the same season forever. We know that the life we have now wont look exactly the same 20 years on. Kids grow up, new friendships take shape, we grow older...
...But we can be excited that with new changes comes growth, as we are challenged to adapt to a new situation.
Sometimes it's a hard change. Maybe we lose someone or something dear to us, or we get made redundant from the job we've held for years. It's not a change we expected, or wanted to be in, but we're faced with this new reality of life and with the question: how am i going to live in this new season?

Ecclesiastes 3 talks about a right time for everything on this earth. There is a time to live, and a time to die, a time to cry and another to laugh, a time to wage war and a time to build peace.

As we enter into a new season we can trust that God has us here for a reason. Sometimes it is so we can learn where our dependancy comes from. Do we depend on ourselves in all situations? Or those around us? Or God?

We can also live in the season we are in with expectancy that this will not be forever. There is a time for everything. After winter comes spring, after summer comes autumn. It might take a while, but it will get there, and we don't have to rush it. Does spring come any faster if you get your hairdryer out and start melting the snow on your door step? It's important to recognise the season we are in. If it's time for winter, we need to wear warm clothes. If it is the time for mourning, we need to do just that.

As we go through the seasons of life we recognise that the last spring we had is not going to look the same as the next spring. Change brings in new realities for our lives. New things have come, and others have gone away. The things we find joy in change, where we go for comfort sometimes looks different.

My move to Mozambique will bring me into a new season as i say goodbye to friends and family here, grieving that loss, and celebrating the new life i will have in another place. But before this happens, other seasons will take place.

I've already been challenged with saying goodbye to some of my favourite people.
Craig and Janelle Palmer are significant friends who have walked alongside me since i was a teenager, and losing their constant presence in my life will bring me into a new season. At the moment that feels a bit like a 'winter'. I think of all the positivity they have brought into my life with their words of encouragement, love and kindness, and think of how i will miss having these friends around me whom i can share anything with.
And then i think of how much they have taught me. And how their spiritual journeys have encouraged me in my walk with God. This has lasting consequences. Their investment in my life was not just for me and i don't want to waste that on myself. I have had a season of learning and growing alongside some special people as we've discovered together more of who God is and how He works. I don't know what this new season will bring but i can be confident that God has used this last season to shape me for what is ahead.
And i am excited because i get to watch my friends enter a new season themselves. One that will be challenging as they move away from the support networks they have built up here, but also exciting as they step further into where God is leading them and benefit from trusting in his provision for their lives.

I'm sure there are many of us who right now are facing a new season in our lives. As we step into this, let us be confident that there is a time for everything. Whatever you are coming into now- the joy of reaping a harvest, the pain of losing a loved one, the hardship of saying goodbye, be confident that while everything on earth may pass away, Our Lord and King remains forever, never leaving nor forsaking us.

Missing the mark

A few weeks ago i submitted the best assignment of my course.. Probably of my life. I spent time researching and studying, and put a lot of effort in to produce a stand out piece.

I'm not the greatest student and when it comes to studying i can be distracted by a million different things before even starting the assignment. Maybe the analogy of ripping off a bandaid works well for me- it takes a long time to build up the courage to even start an essay and then BAM it's done quickly, only leaving a few emotional scars behind. 

Ok maybe it's not that bad. But it's not always the best experience for me. Except this essay. I loved it. From the moment i started researching i felt like fog was lifting and my whole view on life was shifting and growing. It was a pretty positive feeling. I submitted the assignment with full confidence of an HD (high distinction) even though throughout my studies this mark has been extrememly rare, like as in almost completely non existent. 

And then last week, the results came in. I logged into the system with my heart pumping hard from the excitement. 

And then i saw it. my mark was less then glorious. It wasn't even near the HD i expected. Not even close. Infact it was the worst mark i'd gotten all year. 

I'm not going to lie and say i didnt have a moment of weakness and cry. And then i got angry. How could my lecturer give me this mark? Couldnt they see the effort i put in? 

But as i read the well written comments even in my hurt i could see that i'd missed half the question entirely. 

I was completely off the mark.

Has that ever happened to you? Perhaps it wasn't an assignment. Maybe it was in a relationship. You've seen a friend in trouble and you've gone out of your way to help them, only to discover that wasn't what they wanted from you. Maybe they just needed their friend there listening and caring for them. 

Maybe theres been other circumstances where you have tried really hard to achieve something, only to discover that you'd missed the point completely. 

I'm not saying our effort is in vain. My assignment research taught me lots. The effort you put in for your friend shows that you were trying to help. It's not bad. But how much better would it have been if i'd read the question and answered it? How loved would that friend feel knowing they'd been heard in their struggle? 

Some times we get so caught up in our own efforts that we forget the question entirely, the very reason we're in this place to begin with. 

This reminds me of Matthew 15. Jesus is approached by some Pharisees and teachers of the law who ask him why his disciples are breaking the law by not abiding to the tradition of making themselves clean before they eat. 

Jesus turns it back on them. He questions why they would break God's commands (specifically in this case of honouring their mother and father) for the sake of their tradition? Isn't God's command sovereign over the laws humans have enforced? They had missed the mark. They wanted to serve God but in their efforts to do it right, they had made it complicated and harder for people to follow Him. 

Jesus as Messiah offered himself as the perfect sacrifice for us, so that we might be forgiven of our Sin and restored to our Father, God. He gave us His Holy Spirit so that we may be filled with power and authority to serve Him and share His love with the world.

He asks us to love him, and love others. Have we forgotten that message?

It's not bad to have rules to govern a body of people. But lets not get so tied down in the nitty gritty of how we worship God, that we forget to actually worship God. Let's keep our focus on God. Let's lean on His biblical truths and keep Jesus at the centre. Let's be spirit-led, not trying so hard on our own and then missing out on what Jesus came to offer us. In other words, maybe we need to strip back. Maybe i need to look at the traditions i have in life and see if they're pointing towards Christ or if i've gotten so caught up in these rules for myself and the people around me that i've forgotten why they were there in the first place...

And next time, i'll read my assignment question more carefully..

Anxiety

I was sitting in class and the teacher started his lesson by announcing he was going to be doing some rote learning with us. One by one he picked a student to answer a question he proposed about the things we had learned in science that week..

Have you ever been paralysed by fear? So anxious you couldn't breathe? Hands sweaty, nauseus, maybe you want to cry, maybe you were ready to pass out?
That was me everyday when i was 16. In that science class, over ten years ago now, i turned to my friend and told her i couldn't breathe, then rushed out of the class shaking to the nurses office. It was my first panic attack, but in my mind it felt more like a heart attack.
Things after that sort of spiralled downwards. The fear that a teacher would ask me to read something out in class overwhelmed me so i took hold of the flight response and started wagging my classes. This was year 11 and an important year for my education if i wanted to do the things i had dreamed of doing at uni. Yet the idea of showing nervousness in front of my peers was so frightening that i would do anything to avoid it. the fear of getting another panic attack was too much. Soon i was hardly going to school and my deputy principal suggested distance education for my TEE final year. It was a great way out..
It was a great way out. but not being in an environment where i was pushed led me to becoming even more anxious then i was before. I didn't leave the house. The thought of getting a panic attack in school had become my worst fear for any public situation.. I had become so scared of what even strangers would think of me that i allowed my anxiety to trap me. I created a prison for myself, and lived each day spiralling further downward as i separated myself from friends, family and church. The things i had found enjoyment in before i could no longer do- singing, acting, hanging out with friends. I lied to myself pretending i could live this way. After all i wasn't completely a hermit. I'd still go out and work- but only in the same job i was very comfortable in and wasn't changing anytime soon. I'd still see friends, but only in environments i felt totally comfortable in. I'd still study... But certainly not a degree at uni- those classes are too big and i had heard you had to do presentations. I literally picked my tafe course based on the information that i'd never have to stand up in class and present something.

Basically i was living to my half potential. I knew i had a problem but believed i could live in it. No one around me knew the full extent of what i faced each day as my prison grew smaller and the door kept firmly shut preventing anyone in. I didnt want anyone to speak in to my life for i feared someone might actually see just how terrible my life had become.

Fast forward to today. I'm preparing to leave the comforts and security of everything i know here in my home town and move to Mozambique. A country where the language is different, the culture is different, and the worldview is so different from my own. I'm studying a degree at a college where every second unit i do has a presentation assessment. I sing at church and other events- and enjoy it!
Do i still get nervous? Absolutely!!! Ridiculously so. But am i going to let that rule my life? No way.

What changed? Discovering i had a purpose in this life, and believing it. People eventually broke down the walls to the prison i made (in the most gentle way they could- by loving me). And i started reading the bible as God's truth.
If Christ is for me who can be against me? Do not be anxious in anything but by prayer and petition give everything to God... I can do all things theough Christ who strengthens me.. Trust in the Lord with all your heart... Do not fear...for i am the Lord your God...
The Holy Spirit trnasformed these words into reality in my heart. It started with a small act, of a friend from church asking me to sing at a carols event. Instead of taking the default position of no, i trusted those words above and said yes. And God provided for me. He got me through it. I wasn't great up there but that's not the point. I had stepped into my fear of embarrasing myself in public, and had gotten to the otherside. Through God's strength. And it felt good. I felt confidence to maybe pursue other things i enjoyed doing but that had been pushed way down by fear. It was slow, agonising and painful. It required me to be vulnerable in front of people, and it meant that i had to completely rely on God's strength because there was nothing from me left. And after a while my perspective started to change. Maybe people don't actually hate on me if i stumble over my words. Maybe people aren't going to laugh and embarrass me if i make a mistake. Maybe i can give myself freedom to be a bit more vulnerable in front of others and instead of it showing how weak i am, just proves how strong God is? Maybe i can actually pursue the desires that have been put on my heart knowing that these are gifts God has given me to live into and make a difference. Maybe my anxiety will never completely disappear, but in that moment of fear, my trust in Christ will be great and i will have an experience of Him that is powerful and life changing. Everytime i step out in faith.

Maybe i'm here on this earth for a purpose. Not to be trapped by the fears life throws at us. But to be an instrument of God's work. And when we take that up, we know we're not alone. He's given us his armour to get us through each day. Whether the battle is in your head, on your path, or all around you, know this truth- Christ has overcome. The battle is won. You are set free. You can live fully as the LOVED wonderful created being God made you to be.

What about the other side of the story?

Last weekend i decided to take a trip into the city to visit Watertown (previously known as Harbour Town) and hopefully grab a few bargains. After spending an hour browsing through the factory outlets i walked away with a couple of singlets. I wasn't satisfied but had run out of enthusiasm to continue the trawl through factory seconds to find something i liked.
As i got into my car and exited the car park i watched as a lady ran out of the centre, arms filled with clothes. She was chased down by security guards and a rather nasty fight took place. One security guard tried taking the clothes off the lady as she continued to run into the road and hitting out at the guard as she tried to get him away from her. The other guard was following the two, picking up the articles of clothing the lady was dropping. Eventually the guards had all the clothes the lady had tried to steal but the fight wasn't over. The guards didn't want to let the lady go, and it seemed the lady wanted those clothes back pretty bad. Instead of her running away she charged the guards, almost knocking one completely off his feet. Another fight ensued, and i realised i was holding up traffic and had to keep driving away from situation.

This whole scene got me thinking of how i live my life, the values we have as a society, and the pressures individuals face daily just to live in this environment. It sucks how ungrateful i was at the opportunity to buy some tops at a store. I had walked away feeling unsatisfied and wanting more clothes that were my size, fashionable and in my price range. I had forgotten what a privilege it was to be able to afford to get these tops. Especially when i had perfectly good tops sitting at home in my cupboard. I didn't need more clothes, but i wanted them. And i had the opportunity, means and money to drive to the shops to get them.
I have no idea what this lady's story is, but i have met people who would never have access to buy new clothes, let alone have the luxury of owning a cupboard to hold the clothes in.

This isn't a sell your riches and give to the poor story, or a guilt trip about the way we spend our money. But this made me think and want to act in accordance to what God teaches us about how to respond to our neighbours, some who are poor and even in poverty.
Those security guards were angry, so i'm sure were the shop keepers, and many of the bystanders cheering the guys on as they chased the woman down. She was angry too. And probably embarrassed. And clearly in need of new clothes. She was potentially in a situation of desperation and chose to do something that hurts others so that she could help herself (and maybe help those around her). It wasn't the right choice but she decided to do this anyway. Maybe it was a selfish action, but she did it out of desperation. How many of our legal transactions with money and clothes and other things are just as selfish and out of wants and not necessity?
So how do we respond to this lady? And how to we respond to the way we live our own lives? Are we good stewards of what we have?

Of course it is ok to have things, and access to wealth- but lets remember we are blessed to be a blessing. Let's be grateful for what we do have and what we have access to, and consider how even the way we use what we do have (including our money) can bring great glory to our God. Let's love our neighbours as ourselves. Let's share the joys we have the privilege of experiencing with those around us, and let's remember that there are always two sides to every story- people need to be loved, not judged.

Experiencing a Chapa for the very first time!

While i was in Massangulo (Mozambique) recently i had the opportunity to experience some local public transportation by form of Chapa (portuguese for tin). This is a mini van used to transport people around Moz. The following is a glimpse into what that was like from my naiive perspective!

I woke up quickly- excited for what the day held ahead. There had been a bit of rain during the night, not uncommon during the rainy season here in Massangulu- a town about an hour an a half from the province capital, Lichinga. I was grateful it hadn't stormed too hard. When the dirt roads were wet they sure got muddy and i didn't want the journey i was going on today to take any longer than it had to. I silently prayed that any more rain would hold off for a few more hours and packed an overnight bag that contained everything i needed for the weekend. Today i was going to visit the Cowleys- a beautiful family who live in Chanika, a village close to the border of Mozambique and Malawi. I was going to spend the weekend with them, hoping to learn from their many years of experience with the Yao people. It was also going to be a chance for me to visit a new area and to relax and catch up with friends. I was really looking forward to it! We'd been planning this visit for weeks and discussed the best way to get to them. I didn't have access to a car at this point, and taking the advise of a well traveled peace corp volunteer, we'd decided the best option would be for me to take the chapa. A chapa is basically a mini van used as public transport for anyone who can pay to get from one place to another.

The sun was still rising as Bek and I gathered our things and headed off towards the main road. I had been staying with Bek and her family for the last week. Their house is on the base of a mountain in Massangulu and just off the main road that runs through the town. Apart from the people and their villages, there is not much more to the town, except for the beauty it offers by way of mountains and greenery. I had fallen in love with it quickly and as Bek and i set out on the road i couldn't help but smile at the 'small country town' vibe this place had. We stopped a few times as people came over from their morning activities to talk to us. Bek was going to visit the baby clinic today with a friend she had made since moving to the town. It had been very convenient that we both had to walk this way today at the same time and i enjoyed every opportunity i could get to hear more of the stories Bek had to tell of her time she had spent in Mozambique. Today i quizzed her on everything she knew about the chapa i was about to catch.

When we got to the place the chapa would stop we said our goodbyes and wished each other the best of luck in the adventures we both had planned for the day. After Bek had walked out of sight towards her friends house i turned around to take in the surroundings. It was about 6:45am but the day had started long ago for most of the people who passed me. I was standing in the middle of the road on an island by a T-junction. Two older men were standing there with me. On one side of the road a well dressed man sat on a closed shop verandah talking to a lady with a large suitcase. As i watched, a few more people came and stood nearby them, most wearing noticebly smart 'city' clothes, less common in the villages. It seemed travel required best attire. On the other side of the road people sat in front of their assortments of vegetables they were selling. There was nothing more than a few piles of tomatoes and onions. A few days ago when Bek and i had walked past we had found pineapples, but today it didn't seem like there were any treasures to be found.

More people joined me on the island, but never stayed there long. I wondered if this was the right place to be standing but remembered the Peace corp lady's instruction to wait on the island and decided it would be best to stay there. At around 7:30am after standing in the same place for 45 minutes and having only said greetings to people as they passed, i decided to try and strike up a bit of a longer conversation with the only other person who was now on the island with me. He was a young man, presumably yao and one of the few people wearing more casual clothing. Here, while the trade language is portuguese, the local (heart) language is ciyao. After making eye contact i greeted him in my best ciyao (which is poor at best!) and he returned the greeting quickly and asked me a question. I presumed this to be a question regarding where i was going, but having no more ciyao vocab left switched to portuguese and fumbled my way explaining that i was on my way to visit friends in Chanika. My portuguese is 100x better than my ciyao which says a lot about my ciyao and not so much about my portuguese. Needless to say we ran out of things to say (frustratingly because the conversation had turned more to him talking and me looking like i was playing the Charades game). Another lady joined the middle island ( the first lady other than my self!) and greeted me which began a new conversation of me acting everything out and throwing a few portuguese words in here and there to try and make more sense. In all that time, one blue mini bus passed us- at a rapid speed. It halted to a stop 50 mtres up the road and i saw a few people rushing over to it while others got out. I had still been talking to the young man at this point and had asked as best i could if that chapa was going to the border. He had nodded his head and i started running. I had only just crossed the road when the bus pulled away and drove off. In frustration and embarrassment i had hung my head and walked slowly back to my favourite spot on the small island. The man didn't even say a word. I had heard that only one chapa comes past at this time and hoped that my only chance to get to my friends wasn't disappearing around the bend leaving a cloud of dust behind it.
---

It was a cool day thankfully but neverless when we saw the glistening roof of the chapa speeding down the hill towards us we shared the same excitement. At 8am it had been an hour of waiting, but this is not anything new for the people around me. The lady next to me started waving her closed umbrella in the air indicating the chapa to stop, so i joined in, waving my hands, more in relief than anything else. We quickly jumped off the island as, to my surprise, the chapa drove straight down the hill at full speed towards the island. It slammed to a halt as the front tyres collided with the curb and the side doors flew open. I stood in awe as hords of people scrambled out of the van. I turned to see how the lady with the umbrella was responding but she had gone, i turned back to the van and saw her already seated in the chapa ready to go. As quickly as people were exiting, more people were entering the chapa. I guessed after waiting an hour, people wanted to ensure they got a spot on this ride. As people pushed passed me i realised i had to fight my way in too. I quickly rushed to the doors and somehow made my way into the first row of seats and plonked myself down next to a man who was sitting by the window. Very quickly four more people joined me in the first row, and then two more crammed in between us and the driver and front passengers seats. The lady next to me looked very calm as she bounced her baby on her lap. I looked around and saw the 12 seater van packed to capacity with 28 people that i could count. The lady next to me asked where i was going, and i responded with Chanika. She told me this chapa didn't go there. I was hoping perhaps i'd mistaken her but moments later when the driver came to sit in his very pushed forwarded seat she told him i wasn't meant to be on this chapa. He asked me where i was going and i responded, again, with Chanika. He looked to the lady and explained something i couldn't understand and then nodded to me that this was ok. Feeling more at ease i settled into my seat- realising quickly my backseat was now much more angled towards me as more people had managed to squeeze in between our row and the one behind. As one more person leaped in and sat half out the window we made our way towards the border. We made it ten meters before getting stopped by the police check. It had quickly become obvious that this mini van had not the luxury of air conditioning, so windows that had been closed were open to let more air in. It had been quiet in the van until the stop. People started greeting those near them and so i did the same. Before too long we were on our way again, this time knowing one another a little bit better. This time we made at least a kilometre before stopping again. This time so the driver could talk to a driver of a truck that was pulled over on the side of the road. Our driver had to open his door to talk to his friend as his window was broken and couldn't be rolled down. The truck held fifteen or so men in the back and i heard a voice from the back of our chapa call out something. This got everyone in the van talking again to one another and laughing hysterically. The lady next to me explained in portuguese that a man was sleeping in the back of the truck. This was apparently very funny so i joined in on the laughter. We started up again and raced on down the road as it turned from gravel to the great african dirt. It had dried well from the rains the night before and looked reasonably smooth. The giant crater like potholes pushing us to the side of the road when it was gravel had been far more uncomfortable. As we built up speed i glanced over at the spedometer, it's needle unmoving next to the number 0. A man had positioned himself on the floor in front of me and with no room was using both my lap and the man's next to me as support for himself. The lady next to me was now breastfeeding her child and the people behind me were engaged in small conversation. I had a great view of the road as i was facing the front windowscreen and so fixed my eyes on the mountains ahead, thanking God i didn't suffer claustrophobia. It really wasn't too bad, the air fresh as it came through the windows and cooled me down as i sat wedged between two strangers who had now become friends (what else can we be when we're using one another to support ourselves at every corner and bump? The view was excellent, and i was getting closer and closer to my friend's house.
Once more, an hour later the van stopped. It was ironic how many people had fallen asleep, seeing as we'd all been laughing at the one who had fallen asleep on the truck before. The driver got out and i looked around to see where he was going. He disappeared behind the back of the van and came around the other side flinging open the door. The people next to me clambered out and stood by the door. I looked over waiting for the driver to slam the sliding door shut but instead he locked eyes with me and stared expectantly. I looked at the others in the van but no one else was moving. I felt a tap on my shoulder and the lady behind me laughed and pointed outside shouting "chanika chanika"! This was it! My destination!!! And it had been so quick. I got out of the van and thanked the driver. As i got my bearings i could see the school and a little road the Cowleys had told me about. Some men were sitting next to the van which hadn't left yet so i asked them if this road led to the white person's house. They gave me broad smiles and said that it was. I had really made it! I started walking and turned back once more to see the driver running towards me... My heart skipped a beat but then i realised what was still pressed hard into the ball of my hand- my 100mt note to pay for the ride. I apologised and handed the money over before watching him race back to the chapa and drive away.

I turned back towards the road and started towards my next adventure.

The secret to being content...

"I know what it is to be in need, and i know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want" -Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, 4:12

Life is full of seasons. Some sad and some great, some painful, some exciting. There are times when we know exactly where we are meant to be and other times when we have no idea.
Being back in Lichinga brings me into a new season. I'm stoked to be here, to see my friends again, to be with the team. I'm challenged being here- to see people in need and hear of the work God is doing through others to make His name known. I'm a little bit sad being here- knowing one day i will be here for a long time, away from family and a lot of my friends.
More than all of these emotions is the confidence i have knowing God has a place for me amongst the Yao here and that's a joy that fills my heart. It's not a sacrifice, it's not a burden. The yoke is light.

I've only been back in Lichinga for a couple of weeks but have had the opportunity to chat with many different missionaries out here from various organisations. It's no surprise that life here brings about certain challenges and surprises. They've had to learn, like Paul, to be content in any and every situation. But how do they do it? How can we too learn this in the many different seasons we face?

Luckily, Paul doesn't leave us in suspense very long as to what the secret is to his contentedness. In the very next verse he explains "I can do everything through him who gives me strength"(v13).

That's it???

It is by the Lord's great strength in our lives that we can get through each season. And not just get through it, but grow and learn, and even find joy and be content in it. Being content in this context (without being a Greek expert) means having sufficiency in the circumstances independent of others.
The truth is, the one thing we needed has already been given to us. When Christ died on that cross, he didn't just save us from our Sin, He restored us to our Father so we could experience right relationship with Him. We need nothing else. Because of this we can be content in whatever other circumstances come our way. God's power transcends all our understanding on what it means to be poor, weak, helpless and hungry.

God freely gives us His strength so lets trust Him to do just that in whatever this new year brings. I promise you, your Saviour is with you.

The Gust of Wind

"Come, Jesus said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus." Matthew 14:29

Next week, God willing, I will be in Lichinga, Mozambique. I'll be doing a unit there over the next two months as part of my studies at bible college, particularly looking at mission amongst the Yao people. All of this is with the intention in mind to go to live amongst the Yao longer term to be a part of God's continuing work of empowering the local communities to develop their own distinctive ways of following Jesus. And I'm no Peter. Did he hesitate when Jesus called him out onto the water? Not even. Well at least not that's been recorded. In fact, Peter ASKED Jesus to call him out onto the water. 

What faith. 

And then he sees the wind.

For a moment he loses perspective. His eyes turn from Jesus to this wind and he realises the situation he is in... He's walking on water for goodness sake.. He's vulnerable, he's afraid. He doubts. So he starts to sink.

It's a lot of money to fly to Africa. So when I heard that this unit could no longer be funded by the government and I'd have to pay my own way if I wanted to go to Mozambique to do this study, I said I couldn't do it. I scratched the unit off my enrolment form and that was that. And then a few weeks later a dear friend emailed me and told me that with her husband they had been praying and both had felt God had placed me on their hearts (I write this still shocked!) and felt the urge to give me a ridiculously generous amount of money- enough for the trip to Africa! It was a confirmation in so many ways. My response could only be enrol ling back into this unit using this generous donation to pay my fares, trusting that God wanted me to continue to pursue his leading in this direction. 

And then the rest of this year hit, with all it's surprises and struggles and financial strain. And I got to this week and was overwhelmed with the choices I've been making to follow this desire in my heart. Maybe I saw the wind? In the form of my almost empty bank account. Definitely sinking at this point. Although I'm not sure I was ever as confidently walking on water like Peter. So I cried out to God. For a (long) moment I doubted the decisions I'd made to lead me to this point. 

"Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him".

 In my sinking moment I went to the bank that day to deposit the coins I'd had in my piggy bank since I was a little girl.. And there I saw an angel... Well a lady from my church who might as well as been. I didn't tell her what I was doing but we had a lovely chat and at the end she gave me a gift. She told me it was from God and he knew she was meant to be at the bank today at this time... " you of little faith".... And over the next two days I had very similar encounters with incredibly generous and amazing people, all of whom want to support my journey to mission in Africa. "Why did you doubt me?". 

This isn't a rags to riches type story, I'm very aware of how simple my story is, how minor the wind I was looking at is, but yet it still knocked me down, caused me to start sinking. I NEED to be reminded that I can trust God in this journey He is taking me on. That doesn't mean there won't be any more 'gusts of wind' but that's when Jesus reaches out his hand and catches us, and we're closer to Him then before, and our hearts turn to worship.

But to get on this exciting journey of trust and faith, we need to step out of that boat first. What's your response when Jesus calls you out onto the water?