Dreams

It was an interesting time in my life for me to be staying at Saint Andrews Hall, a place I always thought I would one day go. All my hopes and dreams had pointed in that direction for so long.

 In my final years of school I had a strong sense of call on my life. I felt God was calling me into ministry and to become a missionary. Passion and zeal would rise within me when I heard talks and read books about working overseas in mission. I felt God was calling me to a ministry ‘on the edge’. I didn’t know what this meant, but I was excited. I was probably filled with many romantic notions of what the missionary life would be like. But my heart was on fire for God and it would break for the people who didn’t yet know him. ‘How can they call on the name of one that they have not heard, and how can they hear unless someone is sent’- ‘Here am I, send me!’, was the cry of my heart. And I meant it with every fibre of my being.

When I finished school, I went to the UK for 10 months and during this time attended a YWAM Discipleship Training School in Scotland, with an outreach to Mozambique. I had a very sure sense that this was where God wanted me to be. It was exciting, passionate and completely honest. I felt very close in my walk with God and sensed his guidance and hand upon me on numerous occasions. It was during one of these times, when I was praying to God, that I felt he presented me with a choice. I stood on the ridge of a hill, on one side were grass, flowers and an easy path. This I knew was the path of continuing in ministry opportunities as they arose in the UK and leaping with faith and enthusiasm from one thing to the next, it seemed so exciting…. but perhaps not very useful in the long term. On the other side of the ridge was a rocky ravine, with a difficult path, but the promise of an occasional lily growing out from the hard ground, to encourage me along the way. I knew the rocky path was going back to Australia, to my relationship with my boyfriend and to beginning the arduous journey of studying Nursing and then eventually Bible College, in preparation for long term mission service.

I chose the difficult path.

It has proved extremely difficult and nothing like what I imagined. On many occasions God has felt like a distant whisper. I have screamed, ‘Why?!!!!’, I have pleaded for him to rescue me, and the whole way the path has seemed unclear, rocky and difficult. The difficulties of my marriage relationship have felt at times to have completely destroyed every ounce of my being. The things I was once so passionate about have had to be laid aside, merely to survive, to stay above water and to live to see the next day. I had imagined living a life of active ministry to others, of having a home open and welcoming to all, of being someone to guide and mentor others, of immersing myself in another culture and getting alongside people – sharing with them the good news and hope we have in Jesus. But in the end, I have done none of those things and my faith has become nothing but a desperate attempt to cling to Jesus, despite the odds. The cracks and weaknesses in this pot are glaringly obvious and I have become at times disillusioned by the treasure that is supposedly within. 

So, when I finally got to live in Saint Andrew’s Hall. It was humbling. I wasn’t there training to be a missionary, I was there because our life had almost fallen completely apart and we needed my parents to help hold us together. I realised my dream of being a missionary wouldn’t be happening the way I had always imagined. The issues in our marriage would not be going away any time soon and even if we were to separate, our children would need to see both parents, which meant staying, wherever their dad was living. I would not be heading overseas as a missionary in the foreseeable future.

 Slowly as I watched each group go through to do their training, I realised that God had taken away the longing and dream in my heart. It was painful at first, I was grieved and bitter for a time, but eventually I was able to let it go. 

So now I stand, in an unknown place, with no clear direction. Not sure where God will lead. It seems most weeks are still just surviving. Being a single mother is a full enough task a lot of the time. I often struggle to see the meaning in it - the mundane chores, the games, the wiping of noses, the lessons, the songs, the love and discipline … But some-how it would seem that these two children are the ones God wants me to start ministering to first. Every now and then I am carried by dreams of mentoring women, of getting involved with overseas students, of working with refugees, of having an open home… But, then I go back to surviving. I can’t figure out how God is going to take my brokenness and use it for his purposes and glory. There seems no clear path or direction right now. Just waiting… and doing the arduous task of healing -like the Israelites as they found themselves in the desert on the other side of Red Sea. No promised land yet, just tired, bewildered and rejoicing in Gods deliverance. 

What will I do with the freedom God has given me? How can I wait and trust, without grumbling? He has provided for my every need, overflowing with generosity - like the manna from heaven. Who am I to grumble? Who am I to questions God and his plans for my life? Or the way that he brings about those plans? I, in my falleness, cannot fathom how or why, all I can do is try and trust in his steadfast love and mercy.

Lord, help me to trust in you.