I debated a long long time about posting this. This is wayyyyy more vulnerable than I’m usually comfortable sharing, and I didn’t want the questions or to have to talk about it. My team and I had a particularly rough 2 months in Rwanda, made even more difficult for me by my role being team lead. Not everyone had that experience, in fact some of my friends thrived in Rwanda, read about Sarah Katherine’s experience here. I wrote this in a coffee shop holding back tears, I was there cause I just had to get out and couldn’t sit in the environment that our home was anymore. I had way too many emotions, I felt trapped, so I did something entirely out of character and wrote them down. I’m posting this not for sympathy, but so that people understand that under the seeming glamour of the race or of missions, there are times where it feels like you honestly can’t go on. This was one of those times, I felt like I was entirely broken and had nothing left to give. Sometimes this is the reality of missions.
Hey Jesus,
I feel wounded. I can’t even describe most days what feelings are happening or pinpoint where they come from. I’ve been hurt and abandoned many times this month, left to do it on my own and then told I take too much on and need to share responsibility with others. People who are supposed to care don’t act like they do, people who say they are supporting actually just add to the hurt that piles up. The pile is getting bigger, hope I don’t get buried under it. I thought I was called here. Thought I’d be protected by you. I guess protection looks different than I what I thought. And there can’t be any way that I’m called to this continent. I know there’s forgiveness to be walked in, I know there’s no way for me to defend myself so I just let you defend me. Still I feel like a rag doll tossed and thrown around. Pushed and pulled in every direction, each new person that needs me, each new crisis, each new annoyance, each new bit of chaos, each bit of noise and noise and noise. The pile is growing. What’s mine to address and what’s not? Depends on who you ask. I’m functioning at a really high level. “Unwell” for me this month doesn’t look like it did. It can’t. I don’t have space to fall apart, I don’t have time to deal with things about myself. Another person needs me. I love to be needed, I love to help, I’ve capped out my ability. Capped out my patience. Come to the end of my rope. Running on survival mode most days. I know I’ll be told to let you in more and things would be different, but everyday I have to start by asking you to take over cause if I were trying to do it without you I truly wouldn’t be able to function. And still the pile grows. Another comment. Another expectation. Another battle on behalf of me or those I am responsible for. Another joy tinged with sadness. I’m tired. Tired of emotions that I don’t even realize. Tired of thoughts that never stop going and going and going. Tired of being compassionate. Tired of fighting spiritual battles for me and others. Tired of giving and giving and giving until I have no energy, or patience, or love left to give. And yet I’m called into giving even more. The people I’m giving into don’t know what’s going on with me, they know I represent you and it’s an opportunity to show them how much you love them. Swallow the tears, try to stop teetering on the edge of breaking. Try to take the advice given from every angle. Try not to let bitterness creep in. Try to forgive, try to let God defend you, try to walk in your identity. Try, try, try. Fail, fail, fail. At the end of me, there’s you. Removing self and living only on you sounded easier. Leaning on your spirit sounds better when it’s not a desperate lean cause I’ll collapse without you. I know they’ll be scars. I know and I hate it. Should I have done things different? Could it be avoided? Does it matter? You haven’t been wounded or surprised by this other than on my behalf. You took being manipulated and used as a necessary thing for the joy set before you. You’re stronger than me. That’s why I rely on you. That’s why I trust you. That’s why I can’t go on without you. That’s why I need you.
(((hugs))), Addie. Jesus has scars too. They healed but remain. They’re a reminder of His glorious triumph. He won. You win. You’re doing the right thing by leaning on Him and letting His strength be yours. You’re right – for the joy set before Him. It might seem like Friday night, but Sunday’s on the way. I pray a 100-fold return in the community and yourself from the seeds you’ve sown. There’s a reason. The harvest will be great. I love you!!
forever proud of you
Thank you for being vulnerable and sharing your struggle. It made me think of what Paul said in 2 Corinthians 12:10 “Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.” So in the midst of this weakness, you are strong in Jesus. As I read this blog, I thought about how deeply you were impacted by the street kids and their plight and how that must have contributed to those feelings that have piled up. I also thought about Corrie Ten Boom and her experience in a concentration camp during WWII. I don’t understand why God allows such suffering but I trust we will understand in His kingdom. I am glad that despite your suffering, the injustice, misunderstandings, burdens, etc, that you found the solution…to lean on Jesus, the only real answer to these unanswerable questions.