Back in October, in that guest house room in Liberia, I sat by myself one afternoon. We went to Liberian church that morning, and then took some time to rest before heading to Stanley’s village later that afternoon to meet his family. I was wearing the now too big for me yellow dress shirt with the now to big on me skirt, sitting down on the bed, and just writing down all my thoughts to process through all that had happened so far; the WaSH training we did the day before, what I had seen in the village and in the country up to that point, and just all the emotions that were going on inside. As I wrote, the emotions escaped and became tears that started flowing. I didn’t understand, still don’t fully comprehend, just how we have so much and they don’t have much at all. In their villages they have the bare minimum, clothes on kids are optional, yet who is more joyful?
I thought about a previous conversation with my boss. He has traveled to many countries just like Liberia and asked me what good would it be if I came to Liberia and lived just like them? I didn’t grow up that way, I wasn’t used to it, and it would take a lot of effort for us to live in a mud-walled, tin-roofed house. And by doing that, how would I be helping the people of that country?
I thought about the purpose that we were in the country; to meet with our partners that live there. They grew up there. They know the culture. They know how to relate to the people of Liberia. During that week we talked about what additional aid can we send so they can reach more people in their country with compassionate love and be able to share with them the gospel.
I got up from writing and went into the washroom to wash my tear stained face. God was shaking me up and I just wasn’t sure what to do with it. As I washed my face, I made eye contact with myself in the mirror. I realized that God had placed me in America in order to resource people in countries like these. And at that moment I knew that I was made to do this kind of work. Not because it fulfilled me, kind of the opposite actually. It’s hard to be fulfilled when you feel so overwhelmed about where you live and what you have. But I was made to do this work because God has placed on my heart a compassion towards it.
“You were made for the place where your real passion meets compassion, because there lies your real purpose.” - Ann Voskamp.
I thought about a previous conversation with my boss. He has traveled to many countries just like Liberia and asked me what good would it be if I came to Liberia and lived just like them? I didn’t grow up that way, I wasn’t used to it, and it would take a lot of effort for us to live in a mud-walled, tin-roofed house. And by doing that, how would I be helping the people of that country?
I thought about the purpose that we were in the country; to meet with our partners that live there. They grew up there. They know the culture. They know how to relate to the people of Liberia. During that week we talked about what additional aid can we send so they can reach more people in their country with compassionate love and be able to share with them the gospel.
I got up from writing and went into the washroom to wash my tear stained face. God was shaking me up and I just wasn’t sure what to do with it. As I washed my face, I made eye contact with myself in the mirror. I realized that God had placed me in America in order to resource people in countries like these. And at that moment I knew that I was made to do this kind of work. Not because it fulfilled me, kind of the opposite actually. It’s hard to be fulfilled when you feel so overwhelmed about where you live and what you have. But I was made to do this work because God has placed on my heart a compassion towards it.
“You were made for the place where your real passion meets compassion, because there lies your real purpose.” - Ann Voskamp.
