Do you ever get to the point where so much life has been lived and it’s been long enough between catching up with someone that the task of rehashing all that’s happened feels a little impossible? That’s where I am when it comes to writing a blog post.
We are in Malawi. I love Africa. I was thinking about how this will be the third year in a row that I have gotten the opportunity to be on this incredible continent: 3 months on my original Race, 1 month in Swaziland last summer to lead an Ambassador trip, and then 3 months in Malawi as a squad leader. It’s a place that my soul feels at home. Things seem clearer because life is simpler. Sure, there are roosters that crow at all hours of the day (I like to think of them as alarm clocks that were accidentally set to pm rather than am and vice versa), sometimes you have to use a squatty potty, more often than not it’s better to not contemplate the last time you’ve showered, we are frequently asking ourselves if the power is going to be on the next day, and if you haven’t worn a shirt several times before washing it then you know you brought too many clothes with you. It’s a different kind of life in Africa, but I love it. It clears away the noise and constant input that we’ve become so accustomed which gives incredible space to hear the voice of the One our soul longs to hear.
And oh, has my soul been longing to hear a few things from Him.
Our biggest discussion recently has been about love. That’s a word that is used so often. I love salt and vinegar chips. I love my family. God loves me. BUT WHAT DOES THAT ACTUALLY MEAN???
In Adventures in Missions culture, a common practice is to share testimonies within the team setting. Some can be intimidated by the word testimony so I’ve started referring to it as a life story. Part of my life story includes perfectionism. For a long time, I lived with the belief that if I performed well enough, be it in academics, sports, friendships, or life in general (how one can truly perform well at life is beyond me), then I would have value. Perfection was more than a goal, it was an expectation I had for myself. Sounds exhausting, right? Yeah, it was. I’ve gotten a lot of freedom from that struggle, but I still sometimes have to step back and remind myself that I really am doing the best I can with the resources I have available to me (thanks Brene Brown). Part of being vulnerable in my life is voluntarily allowing other people to actually see my imperfections. Obviously, we are all imperfect human beings, but I have to make a conscious choice to own the imperfections and allow the people I care about to be included in that.
Where does love come in? I’m so glad you asked. The Lord has reminded me that I cannot be lovable on my own. Any part of me that carries light and is lovable is actually the Spirit of God inside of me. Jesus came to die on the cross to make us lovable. Dang. I’ve been a believer for 15 years and that was a good reminder of the value of the cross in my life again. As if that wasn’t a big enough revelation, He continued to remind me that my imperfections make me lovable. Those parts of me that are the darkest, that need the most love, are, in fact, the parts of me that have the greatest capacity to be loved because they require the greatest amount of love.
Mind blown.
My imperfections, which I prefer not to broadcast, actually give other people the opportunity to fully love me, just like the imperfections in others gives me the opportunity to truly love them.
Well, this changes everything.
But what does love mean? It means choosing to accept that I am not capable of being loved on my own, but I am actually loved. It means allowing other people to love my imperfections and loving others through theirs. Oh, and of course, most importantly, remembering the cross because without it, this post would be irrelevant. Nailed it, just like we nailed Him.
