A year ago I was at a turning point. I was so ready to pack in the life of being a "missionary". Yesterday I walked into church and it registered - this was Breakforth weekend. My parents were there again. Last year I was also there with my brother and most of his family. It wasn't the worship times or sessions that reminded me of the things I was called to. It was a tap on the shoulder by a stranger on the street.
I wasn't sure about making that struggle public then but decided to anyway. Yesterday I took stock of what has happened since then. Everything I laid down, God has given back to me. Take a look at what I wrote then and celebrate his goodness. The mad thing is that I never even asked him for these things - he gave them to me anyway:
- returning to Ireland in spite of having to raise 10 000 more/year (and it all came in)
- no worry about if I am doing enough (it's the "no worry" part that is key here)
- a place to live that I love and it looks like I will be in it more than 1 year
- a car and an iPad
- I was told to apply for citizenship
- I will be visiting my parents briefly after a disciple making conference in Ontario at the end of February. That's not to mention that my parents have already been to visit and my sister-in-law will visit me here in April.
As I was thinking of these things yesterday we began to sing about surrender in church. If only they knew. Surrender felt a bit like cutting a hole in my soul. Instead of pain and infection, I have had peace, joy, and thankfulness like never before. Instead of empty, I am full.