The God of my Friends

I’ll let you in on a secret: Sometimes I feel like an absolute failure. And missionaries aren’t really supposed to be the failing type.

Here’s the thing:

I don’t understand why I can see God in the sky, in the water, in close friendships, but my friend can’t seem to find God anywhere.

And they’re looking, God, they’re looking. In the cards, in the stars, in the eyes of the boys they invite back. Everyone seems to be looking and not finding. And here I am with the solution, but He won’t be found by them. And nothing I say or do seems to be making any difference.

I found God as a teenager in a tent, with 100 people around me singing worship. I had turned him down so many times. For boys and their love. But God stayed near enough to be found when I cracked the door open. Why is God here and not there? Why do I get this privilege and others fight and claw their way through life, trying to make of it what was handed to them, and God never shows up in their dreams? God gives me this life, these opportunities, these privileges and others get none. And I didn’t even earn it.

And now I find myself on the journey of a lifetime, a great privilege, a generous gift. And what is it uncovering? Weaknesses and doubts. Flaws and failures. And not just the surface stuff. I’ve really let things get quite deep, it’s messy in there, in my soul. Surely God could have chosen a better person. Surely someone else would have been able to convince my friends that despite all the chaos, this is the path. If only you would walk a little down the way you would see. But it’s me and my fumbling words, and doubts, and second guesses. And flaws.

What’s going to happen when we get to the other side of the world and I trip up again? What’s going to happen when I struggle to put myself in the shoes of the broken people I’m trying to help? If I can’t convince my closest people, how am I to make even the smallest dent on the suffering of the world?

Sometimes questions aren’t answered for years.

Sometimes friends pass away and I’m not sure if they’re lost or found.

Sometimes I lose more than I gain.

What I’m slowly starting to discover is that faith is the years in between the questioning and the answering. Faith is losing your life and gaining your soul. Faith is trusting that despite what it looks like, God is good. And he knows me as well as he knows my closest friends.

And he stands outside the door waiting for them to crack it open a little bit and let the light in.

May he be found by them.