Post-Mission Predicaments: Adam Guillory
Missions run by The Wesley are really interesting and specific times to exist as a human, especially for the one who’s on that particular mission. They’re extremely fun, spiritually active, godly times for those who go, and at the same time can act as crucibles, burning away or revealing your insecurities, doubts, anger and ultimately, your pride.
This happened to me this year when we had the privilege of going to Ethiopia for a month. There were times of extreme doubt, insecurity, and pain, followed quickly by times of lucidity, praise, and thanksgiving. One night, I’m honestly able to thank God for providing challenges in everything we were complaining about and having trouble with, the next, I’m so caught up in my own head and my own pride that I lose sight of everything good God is doing in me and just want to be done. Then, after all the struggles, all the heartache, all the laughing and crying, and all the love and joy we experienced, I went home, and suddenly I fell back into the depths of mediocrity, selfishness, and simmering pain.
While on mission, all of my emotions were hot, like I was standing on a fire, sometimes the fire of God and sometimes (it felt like) the fire of hell, but then I came back, and it feels like I forgot about the fire entirely because of the business and incompleteness of day-to-day life. I wake up, go to work, sit in front of a computer for 9 hours, come home, the coffee wears off, and I spend time “to myself”, i.e. away from God and others. Then I go to bed, and the process starts all over. I lose my routine, my prayer life disappears, and the life that I love and want for myself falls apart. Everything I think I want to do and everything I need to do falls by the wayside, because when you’re stranded and you don’t have a compass, all you can do is sit and wait.
So sit and wait you do. Sitting and waiting for you don’t know what, but waiting nonetheless, because you know that whatever it is, it’s important. You don’t even know you’re waiting for it because you’re too busy looking past it, too busy imagining what you’ll do when you get to shore, or how you’ll finally do “that thing” or live “that life”, and then you realize that the speculation means nothing while you’re still on the raft. And as soon as you accept the situation you’re in and realize not that you’re waiting for something, but that God’s waiting for you to accept His hand in front of you, then you can actually go somewhere.
In my case, the sitting and waiting was in regard to the coming school year. I was preparing myself for my coming classes, or speculating who I would be leading a small group with, or trying to figure out how I would go about recruiting for that, and then wondering why I was always so tired, or why I couldn’t bring myself to pray, or what I was even doing with my life. And frankly, I still only think I know the answer to one of those questions, which is the exhaustion one. And though I only think I know the answer to one of them, I can hope that God reveals to me the answers or solutions to my other problems. Not because I want it, but because He loves me and thinks that revealing that will help me.
In the meantime, however, while I wait for God to answer all of my great mysteries, I can at least content myself with the blessings God has given me, and the love He shows me day by day by letting me exist on this Earth and guaranteeing that I will be in paradise with Him. He hand crafted me not because I deserved it, but because of His great, unyielding Love, which nothing (certainly not my own pitiful actions) can take away. And so, while I struggle with mediocrity this summer, I can only hope that I can be sanctified in the process, not by my power, but because of God’s work in me during the process.
Until that sanctification happens, I can look back at the moments of lucidity that I have had, across this year’s mission and before. The times when I’ve been able to notice the beauty of a rain cloud coming over a mountain, or the wisdom hidden in a book about a lion and some kids (The Chronicles of Narnia). These are the times when I can understand the challenges put in front of me, not as obstacles, but as building blocks for my faith. And these are the times when I can love people, not for their personalities or their actions, but because they are people who God has created in His own image. For that lucidity, I pray that I can have it often.