An opportunity to work among those who turn the world upside down

 

I’ve always remembered that day, the day “When a door opened . . . that let the future in.”

 

And I stepped through that open door.

 

It was as if God said to me, “It's okay to admit your mistakes and regrets and hurts, but don't get stuck there. I am ready now to heal them.”

 

It was as if God said, “I am not limited by your failures, weaknesses, feelings, thoughts, or fears. Always remember I love you just because I love you, not for any other reason. Nothing can change that fact.”

 

The time had come to believe that God's everlasting arms never get tired of holding those who are bruised.

 

The time had come to receive each new morning with joy, as a gift from God.

 

The time had come to follow this good advice: Don't grow weary of doing what is good and right, because if you don't get discouraged and give up the struggle, ultimately God will bless you for your efforts (Galatians 6:9).

 

It was as if God said, “Look and listen. 

I sent you here to work with extraordinary people. 

Some have brilliant minds, 

while others are just ordinary people with valuable skills 

I‘m using to carry out My work in Colombia. 

Every one of them has a good heart 

and an uncommon commitment to serve Me 

and the indigenous peoples of this land. 

The time has come for you to get acquainted with them—

and soon, in a few days, to work alongside them.”

 

It was as if God said, “I sent you here to work among those who turn the world upside-down” (Acts 17:6).

 

It was as if God said, “Walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. Let their spirit light a fire within you to leave this world better than when you found it. . . .” (Wilferd A.Peterson)

 

If only I’d known I would love living there

What would you expect your living conditions to be if you were to move to the end of the road in the middle of nowhere in South America?

That’s where my husband, Dave, wanted me to move, along with our two preschoolers. But to me, Dave was acting like that “wild and crazy sheep in love with thorns and brambles” that Thomas Merton wrote about. 

In my other memoir, Grandma’s Letters from Africa, I described Dave as “a free spirit who seldom limits himself to coloring within other people’s lines.”

But I was the opposite kind of person. Adventure and risk—those “thorns and brambles”—were not my cup of tea.

And coloring outside the lines? Never!

The thought of moving to a remote outpost in South America—of all places!—shot scary stuff into my brain and heart, stuff that assaulted my wellbeing, night and day.

If only I could have looked into the future—because then I’d have seen how much I would love working at our mission center, Lomalinda (pretty hill), alongside remarkable people.

But, of course, I couldn’t see into the future. I had no idea what rich adventures and relationships my family and I would enjoy there.

Instead, my mind went bonkers. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 1:

 “What kind of house would we live in?” I asked Dave. I pictured a hut with a dirt floor.

 “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

“What if we had to build our own house? And with what? Bamboo and palm leaves? Besides,” I heard my voice getting shrieky, “we don’t even know how to build a house.” 

My mind went wild. “Would we have to grow our own vegetables and meat? What about eggs? And milk? The kids need milk, you know. Would we have to get a cow? I bet we wouldn’t even have electricity. And what about water? Would we have to haul our water?” 

I didn’t give Dave a chance to answer. I was on a roll. “Living in South America could be deadly! After all, look what happened to Jim Elliot. The natives killed him and his friends.” 

My voice rose an octave. “Karen’s only three years old! And Matt just turned five!” Our kids were so vulnerable, and the unknown for the four of us shook me to the core. Sometimes God does lead people to perilous places, and I didn’t want to find our young family among them.

I envisioned the worst. All I could do was pray—urgently: Please, God, don’t make me go!

Think about it: 

What would you expect your living conditions to be 

if you were to move to the end of the road 

in the middle of nowhere in South America?

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(Please, God, Don't Make Me Go: 

A Foot-Dragger's Memoir by Linda K. Thomas), 

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