God’s gifts and God’s call are under full warranty — never canceled, never rescinded. — Romans 11:29

This morning at Nina’s church I felt familiar pangs of longing. But this time was different from the last year. This time there was hope in my spirit.

I never realized how much I longed to be a missionary until I gave it up to spend a season at home seeking healing and wholeness. In the months after my resignation, I wept and mourned bitterly over what I had lost. It felt as if a significant piece of me had died. And with it, my hope in the future.

The door is open for me to go back at any time. And I’ve purposely structured my current work and life with the church plant in Nashville so that I keep that possibility alive.

I feel very strongly that I am exactly where I am supposed to be right now. And with my struggle with depression and current walk through grief, not to mention the pain of my first full year overseas, it has been hard for me to think far enough into the future to see myself going again overseas.

Yet… I cannot deny the pull on my heart. I cannot deny how my heart breaks for the world every day. I cannot deny how I seem to daily spot out of a crowd the various nationalities and cultures I see represented. I cannot deny how excited I feel, how my pulse races and my very spirit is inflamed when I think about building bridges between cultures, helping followers of Christ understand various worldviews and spot the God-moments in them, encouraging and developing in others an appreciation, even a passion, for learning about other cultures, interacting with them and building lasting relationships with people of other cultures and religions!

When I look at a map, I don’t see lines and countries. I see people. People of various ethnic groups and religions, with struggles and victories, convictions and fears, beliefs and needs. When I look at a map I think of the food the people eat, the weather they endure, the clothes they wear and the lives they lead. I wonder if they fear the same things I do, if they struggle with the same issues, if they long for the same things… I am in love with all the people I have met in my life, from Japan to Ethiopia, from India to Cyprus. Amazing people. Resilient, robust, beautiful, inquisitive, questioning, apathetic… they came in every size, shape and possibility. I remember each fondly, for who they are and what they taught me about life.

I don’t envy my friends overseas. I have lived that life and I know the sacrifices they make every day so that others may know Jesus the way we do. I admit, I love being able to drive on the right side of the road, read all the signs around me, communicate fluently with everyone I meet as I go about my daily routines (even if the accent throws me off many times). I love having an American style apartment with all its amenities, like consistent electricity, heat and a/c, hot water, shower heads and a western toilet. 🙂

Yet… Thanksgiving night, driving home from Toby’s sister’s home, my mind went unbidden to MLC (a learning center for Overseas Workers in Virginia), and I wondered how they had celebrated Thanksgiving. If they were giving the new crop of Workers a true taste of what celebrating Thanksgiving in a foreign country is really like. I spent Thanksgiving 2002 in Ethiopia. I saw first-hand how much we as Americans have to be thankful for. At the same time, I missed my family terribly. I was thankful, yet my heart was heavy. That’s part of the holiday experience for a missionary.

All weekend I have wrestled off and on with a sense of longing. One that I’ve never been able to fully identify. One I thought I’d categorized as a desire to be a missionary, to be “on mission” with God.

Perhaps that is what the longing is. But I don’t think it’s all it is. I just don’t know right now…

This morning’s message from Nina’s pastor, Jeff, continued to stir that longing, bringing the pangs so strong they continue to resonate in my soul. This overseas “thing” just will not let go of me.

What is my role in it? There was a time when I believed I was a “Mobilizer”. Then I thought I was a “Goer”. But I’ve done gone and come back… now what am I??

As Jeff preached and I contemplated, God whispered, “My gifts and My call are irrevocable…. they still apply to your life… you’re still a part of what I’m doing in the world… And, there’s time yet…”

Hope.