I was a “missionary” for 106 days, from the date of commissioning.
- 9,158,400 seconds
- 152,640 minutes
- 2544 hours
- 15 weeks (rounded down)
Or 140 days if you count from my first day in Colorado.
But for all of my life I’ve identified myself as an MK.
I never did get used to the term missionary for myself. Probably one of the many indicators that would lead to my exiting the organization I had joined.
I have slowed down my blogging in the past week, almost out of exhaustion. I’ve little else to say, I’ve said so much in the first 16 days. But I’ve also not moved forward in any ways in the past few days. On Sunday I said it was beginning to smell like hope… but the past two days of being at home do nothing to remedy my situation.
Francis Chan refers to the idea of the spiritual life being like one of swimming upstream. You can’t stop swimming, otherwise you start going backwards. I can totally see that. It’s easy to sprint ahead and then glide on the speed you’ve set for yourself…but then you start going backwards, even when you’re just stopping for a break, a breather, stalling.
I must keep moving forward or get swept away in the rushing down stream.
I have to continue to fight for the time spent getting away with the Lord. Quieting my heart, opening my ears to hear. And as I seek guidance desperate that a clue will appear. Courage. Wisdom. Direction. Light on the step ahead. My head spins in so many directions I’m completely unsure where it will slow down. What does it smell like, what color is it, what shape is it? How and where do I fit in the grand scheme of life. What risks and faith leaps do I need to take next? Is it possible to get through all this without being continually wounded and discouraged at doors that don’t budge or shut in my face? What door? Does it even resemble a door? Will I even recognize it?
So I sit in these questions. And seek.
*not gonna lie…definitely have Amy Grant’s Lead Me On playing in my head…so I looked it up for your viewing pleasure. I totally used to watch this on TV. ha!