I'm in line at the library.
I glance at some of the books nearby, and see that one of the books is in Thai. I ask the attendant if she reads Thai. She tells me that the book was actually brought here by a friend. I ask who her friend is, and she introduces us.
I meet him and he tells me that we've met before. In fact, that I was the one who told him about Jesus.
He's speaking in English now, and is teaching me some deep things about the Bible, about it's history that I had never known.
He tells me his name is Rin.
I'm filled to the brim with what has to be the joy of the Lord.
I start to ask him so many questions.
My alarm pulls me from my dream.
I am sad.
It's now officially been (over) a year since I have been "employed" as a missionary, though I have learned that the work never truly ceases.
My year back "home" has been incredibly difficult, largely in part to my impatience, my lack of faith, and my stubbornness.
I now work a job in which I cannot see the eternal significance.
I talk more regularly about non spiritual things.
With fear and trepidation I've tried to start engaging this culture, terrified that it might suffocate me.
I have a great lack of community, and a loss of peace.
Part of me died overseas, and part of me is missing back here.
It's just a reality. Something that I'm always aware of.
And this is where God finds me.
To ask me, even here, "Do you trust Me."
and I want to grit my teeth and say "no."
I want to be stubborn
I want to dig my heels in
Instead, I plead with God.
Lord, I believe. Please, please help my unbelief.
My hope and my future is with You God.
Please be gentle with it; with me:
a sinner who would rather look at what You have done in the past
instead of what You are doing for the future.
If you have even once prayed for me, I cannot thank you enough.
If you are still praying for me, I can't believe your faithfulness, and I can't find the words for your role you have played in my life.