I knew the question was coming, and for a moment I wasn't sure how to answer.
I'd resigned my church staff job two months before to fulfill a dream I'd had since I was eight years old: to minister in Africa. We had a good (if not somewhat naive) plan, my wife was completely onboard, and my two oldest sons talked all the time about how we could help the "Africa kids."
So, why couldn't I answer the question?
Well, there were a few variables: 1) our third born son had a rare genetic disorder that caused severe developmental delay and seizure activity around the clock. That would have been fairly manageable until, 2) we found out my wife was expecting twins. Still, we could have kept that reality under decent control, except 3) she had been vomiting up to thirty (yes, thirty) times a day and was laying in our bed hooked up to a PICC line for nutrients because she hadn't been able to keep any food down, lost fourteen pounds and while I put on a strong face, inside I was begging God not to let her die. 4) We were about to have 5 children in a tiny house with only one bathroom!
Instead of being able to raise financial support we needed, I was playing mom, dad and nurse.
Things were not going according to "plan".
I felt like a failure. Like I'd missed it.
I wasn't at all sure that I knew what I was doing.
I can't remember exactly what my answer was on the phone, but I do remember going in, laying next to my wife and saying, "Should I just quit? Should I get a normal job somewhere and try again when everything calms down?" (You know, since life gives us so many seasons where everything "calms down").
As the medical machines whirred in the background, she looked up at me and said, "No. This is what God has called us to do, and we have to do it."
We had to do it. So we did it, and in the process have discovered how difficult an addiction to comfortability is to break.
It's still very early in the journey for us, but here are a few things we've learned along the way. Nothing profound, but so far we've needed practicality more often than profundity.
- We cannot lead people to shake off comfortability if we aren't willing to do it ourselves.
- Complaining about the system, church, denomination or business we're in wastes valuable time that could be spent working for change.
- Following through as a leader in the midst of difficult circumstances is about how big God is, not about how good our backup plan is.
- Having peace or certainty about direction doesn't automatically mean it's where God is leading, and uncertainty doesn't mean He's NOT leading us.
When southern Haiti was destroyed by an earthquake in January everything crumbled and our hearts were broken as we wrestled with the best way to respond. Sometimes everything has to crumble in order for us to understand exactly where our vision should be fixed. It's so easy to cover our tails, delegate responsibility or move on completely when the pressure builds or terrain ahead of us seems impassible. Sometimes we mistake difficulty with a closed door, but I've found that many times difficulty is exactly what's behind the door God is opening, and that's what He's been preparing us for. This is where saying all the right words becomes useless when it's time to move.
It's been an interesting season for our family, culminating last month with brain surgery for our son, Jude. My wife and I celebrated our wedding anniversary this year by talking for two hours over dinner about how amazing it's been watching everything unfold. There are certainly moments when we have to catch our breath, moments when we look at what's coming (or wonder what's coming) and say, "Ok, God, here we go." Sometimes the biggest challenge seems to be keeping our eyes open when life rushes toward us so we don't miss anything.
So, in the end, am I sure I know what I'm doing?
No.
But, God has called us, He is faithful and the ugliness of whatever we face pales in comparison to His great love. He's promised to see us through to the end, and we follow Him because he's the only One who knows where that is.