you can't always count on your rocks

June 15^th, 2011

It is somewhere between 9:45 A.M. and 1:45 P.M. over the Atlantic Ocean, depending on what time zone we are in, and if there is one thing that I have learned in the last few days in Senegal, it is that you can’t always count on your rocks.

The last week and a half has been an absolute whirlwind. The beginning of last week was so good for me; the Lord was really filling me with the Holy Spirit and giving me strength and passion to continue sharing His Gospel with the people in Senegal. Last Tuesday when I had been sharing with Samba for about an hour, I felt God pushing me to share my good friend Logan’s testimony. As soon as the first word came out of my mouth, I started to cry, and I couldn’t stop until after I was finished. I had never cried before when telling it, so I know that it had to have been the Spirit filling me. I think that it was so good for Samba to see that this is not just something I do, but it is something that means more to me and affects me more than anything else in this world. It was truly an act of grace for God to give me this sweet reflection.

Then, Tuesday night came.

I said to Justin fleetingly that my neck was beginning to get tense. Little did I know that this small neck ache would grow into a week of countless visits and stays in the clinic, incorrect diagnosis, and numerous drugs. Nor did I realize that it would spread so that my whole body was achy and weak, not to mention my constant fevers, maxing out at 104.

After all of this craziness, it quickly became apparent that it would be best for me to come home and seek further treatment in the U.S. So now, I’m sitting on a plane on my way back to Washington D.C. and then on to Nashville.

While this decision was hard and it breaks my heart, I am totally at peace. Though I long with everything I have to be back sharing the love of Christ with the students, like Samba and Paba, and the Talibe boys, like Tijon and Ibrahim, my God has a better plan.

God did not want me to finish out my trip in Senegal.

God wants me to go home.

Why?

I don’t know.

How could God possibly want me to be home more than in Senegal sharing His love?

Well, I don’t know.

I do know this, though: my God is good, and so is His plan. And I can share His love whether in Senegal or in the U.S., in a hospital bed or at school, just like you can.

So as I look at my fourteen remaining rocks, I realize that they have been an amazing reminder of the time given to me.

A reminder?

Yes.

A guarantee?

No.

You can’t always count on your rocks, but you can always count on your God.