Comfortably Uncomfortable

I had some other things on my mind today that I was going to write about, but something came up that I want to share with you instead.

Today was the day that we were supposed to go to a nearby community called La Paz to do Bible School with the local kids. For a long time in La Paz there was a church with no pastor. I don't know the whole story, but for some reason or another nobody has been coming to teach and lead worship, and so the people remained without a congregation (although we just found out today that someone has arrived and feels led to bring the services back, which is a huge answer to prayer!). For at least a year a dear friend of mine would visit La Paz every week with a couple of other ladies to share a Bible story with the kids in the area, so that they could grow up with even a little knowledge of God and his Word. There is a young woman in the community who is in charge and has organized this for the kids. Now that my friend is leaving, the other ladies and I are continuing just like she did every week.

The only difference? None of us know how to drive a stick shift. My friend was the one who would take everyone in her truck. By car it takes less than ten minutes to get there; it takes 45 minutes to an hour to walk.

I took a couple of driving lessons in the DR with my dad and good old Seymour:

but it didn't quite stick (no pun intended-well, maybe a little pun intended).

It had always been my plan to learn how to drive here eventually, but for now we were stuck walking.

We set off for our destination in the distance, and almost immediately the skies opened up and we were caught in the rain, as is customary during the aptly named rainy season. My best jeans and only nice shoes were soon soaked through because I had forgotten to change before we left, and my fancy smartphone was given to my friend to keep dry in her plastic bag. We marched through the rocks and mud as we shared stories and commented on the beautiful corn that is growing in the fields. For the most part I kept quiet, taking in my surroundings and thinking about when Jesus began his ministry and did the same thing then that we were doing now. I wondered how many miles Jesus walked just to share a word from God with the people in different communities. And suddenly I felt incredibly blessed to be able to share this walk with my sisters in Christ.

Nowadays most people aren't accustomed to having to exert themselves so to share God's word with their neighbor or their community. We can sit in our comfortable cars in the AC, closed off in our little world until we arrive at where we are going. We drive instead of walk, take planes instead of boats. The ability to get ourselves farther faster has most definitely helped the Gospel spread to previously unreached places, but I'm afraid we have grown too used to this newfound ease of life and have forgotten the joy of being uncomfortable as we serve God.

What a special time Jesus got to have with his disciples as they traveled from town to town! What great conversations I bet they had since they didn't have the option to pop in some headphones or turn on the radio. Sure, I bet Jesus sometimes wished for some headphones to shut out all of the arguing and complaining the disciples were known for, but overall there is something special about putting yourself in uncomfortable situations in order to share God's love with others. It creates a special bond with your fellow brothers and sisters that are serving alongside you. I got to know my two friends today in a way I haven't been able to so far. We helped each other carry the Bible School supplies and all agreed that the rain was a blessing because it made the air cool.

My friends and family know what an adjustment living in El Sembrador has been for me for the past month. I truly love the work I do and I love the people I work with and the students I work for, but when my biggest struggle of the week was that one of my ceiling fans broke and I had to spend one night without it, I sometimes find myself yearning for the days when I had to use a bucket of water to shower and an oil lamp to see at night. Call me crazy, but there's just something about the discomfort that brings you closer to God and closer to the people around you, who are experiencing the same thing. And the even crazier thing is that when you're serving Christ it doesn't even register as discomfort. You become comfortably uncomfortable. This is kind of hard to explain, but I know there are other people who feel the same way.

These were all of my thoughts even before we arrived at La Paz. After an hour of walking my reward was many little hugs from the kids who were waiting for us to come and spend time with them. If anybody ever wondered why Jesus took the time and effort to travel like he did, I know why. There is no better feeling than coming a long way just to tell someone (and show them) that they are dearly loved. 

As I write this I am sitting on the floor because all my chairs are covered with drying clothes. I had wisely decided that today was a good day to start hanging my clothes to dry, and if you look back up at the beginning of my story you will remember that it's the rainy season. But even now I am filled with the joy that comes with being comfortably uncomfortable. I hope I never get so comfortable that I forget the joy of exerting myself to share God's love with the people around me.

Since I don't have a car I don't leave the El Sembrador campus as much as I normally would, which means I don't often get to experience the quiet relief that you feel when you finally find yourself back home after a long journey. But today as I walked through the gate into the now nearly-empty campus because the boys left for break today, and ambled up my road, taking in the familiar sounds and admiring the buildings and trees I have come to love so, I finally felt the contentment that I hadn't had the privilege of feeling until today.

I am home.

And on a completely unrelated note, please keep me in prayer next week as I begin my first Honduran driving lessons :) 

That One Day on the Bus

There is one day in the Dominican that I will never forget.

My parents and I were taking a bus to the capital to go to a conference. For me, the bus can either be an introvert’s sanctuary or an introvert’s nightmare. Most of the time I would put in my earbuds, turn on the special bus playlist I made just for this occasion, and let the music wash over me as my brain checked out for a few hours. Complete bliss.

But in the DR it’s totally normal to talk to the person sitting next to you on a bus, whether you know them or not (hence the nightmare). To be honest, making small talk with the guy next to me is usually the very last thing I want to be doing. Like getting a tooth pulled seems less painful to me than trying to carry on a conversation with a stranger. I would take awkward silence any day.

My parents sat together while I took the risk and sat in a window seat alone. As soon as I sat down and got my backpack situated on the floor I began the desperate race to put in my earbuds before anybody had the chance to interrupt my long-awaited solitude. I only barely succeeded; just as I was turning on my music a kind-looking middle-aged man asked to take the seat next to mine. I gave him a quick smile and nodded my assent, knowing that would be the last time I would have to engage him during our journey.

The man had a piece of paper in his hand, and I frowned as I saw what it was. There was a person in our city who occasionally handed out a “tract” to the people waiting in line to ride the bus, but it was filled with lies and confusing statements. I didn’t like what the paper had to say and I was sad that this man was now reading it. I was hoping he wouldn’t buy into the lies or have doubts about God and who He is.  For a while I watched the man as he read the tract slowly and carefully.

And then I felt something that made my gut instantly clench up and my heart beat faster.

As clear as day, God spoke to my heart and said, “Ask that man about what he’s reading.”

…......

……..

Anxiety started bubbling to the surface and I sat as still as I could, as if God would stop looking at me and go ask someone else to do something for Him. He didn’t.

The man continued to read as I remained motionless. I watched the trees and concrete buildings race by, and wished I could hurl myself out the window and seek their asylum. Finally I worked up enough nerve to say something, and pretty soon we were engaged in a deep conversation. By the time we had reached his stop to get off, he had accepted Christ into his life and he walked away a changed man.

………

Actually,

Actually.

Actually, that didn’t happen.

Actually, I stayed silent as my heart burned, unable to form a single word to say to the man next to me.

Actually, I fixed my gaze out the window and stared at the world passing by until he finally put the paper in his bag and went to sleep.

Actually, after twenty minutes of excruciating silence God spoke again, with absolutely no condemnation or disappointment in His tone. He was simply stating a fact:

“You disobeyed me.”

And I had three hours on a quiet bus to think about what that meant.

________________

That day, all pretense and good intentions were stripped away, and I was finally shown the glaring truth: after a lifetime of following Christ, three years of attending a Christian university and one year of serving on the mission field, I, Jessica Marie Hogan, was still afraid of sharing my faith with others.

There, I said it.

You can go ahead and stop reading, or feel free to unsubscribe from my blog. I think I have officially earned the title of “Worst Missionary.” The guy was sitting right there, with absolutely no chance to go anywhere, and I couldn’t even say one thing to him about Jesus Christ the savior of my life. In that moment I knew that it was a test, and that I hadn’t succeeded.

Here’s the part where I need to make sure something is clear. Remember that God most definitely does test us, but he never tempts us. God tests, and Satan tempts. By testing us God wants us to see how we can make our faith stronger. By tempting us Satan tries to destroy our faith. Maybe they sound similar on the surface, but the two motives are completely opposite.

What am I so afraid of? I continued to ask myself as I reflected on the bus. Why wasn’t I able to say something? Was it the feeling of inconvenience, of having to pull myself out of my own bubble and engage with someone? Was it a fear of looking foolish? Was it a lack of confidence? I think in a way it was all of those things, and even more things that I will never be able to quite put into words.

I believe there is value in every experience, so I invite you to learn from my failures and shortcomings. Maybe I really was supposed to lead that man to Christ that day. Or maybe the man just had a simple question that I would have been able to answer. Or maybe God wanted me to initiate a conversation that would have ended up being a blessing to me. It doesn’t matter what would have happened. The point is, if God told me to do something, it’s because 1.) He wanted me or someone else to learn something and grow from the experience, and/or 2.) He was going to equip me with the ability to handle it.

I have always considered myself a humble person (wait, does it make me not humble anymore if I admit that?), but as with every other good thing, we humans can easily corrupt humility and turn it into hesitancy, self-doubt, and a feeling of inferiority. Deep down I think I’m waiting to become the “perfect” missionary, and until then I don’t want to get my hands dirty and mess a good thing up, so instead I stand back and wait for someone more capable to take control.

Here’s what my little mind needs to understand though: I am so far from perfection that I will never achieve it in this lifetime. Which means, if I follow my own logic, I will keep myself on the sidelines for the rest of my life and never give God an opportunity to produce anything good in me. Is that what I want? Is that what anyone wants?

God knows me inside and out; He knows what I’m good at and what I’m terrible at. He knows where I shine and where I stumble. And in spite of all that, He will still push me to do things that make me uncomfortable, things that don’t come naturally for me. Even when I keep trying to pull myself out of the game, He will never stop urging me to come back into play. Ok, I think that’s enough of the sports metaphor for today.

If you have ever read any part of the Bible you will quickly see that God specializes in accomplishing things through unlikely, weak, sinful people. Enter Jessica. That is most definitely me. But I don’t have to believe in my own abilities to accomplish what he asks of me; I do have to believe in his ability to work through me. And after a lifetime of following Christ, I have enough examples of that to encourage me forward the next time he gives me a job to do.

I wouldn’t go as far to say that day was a turning point in my life, because in reality I have failed and succeeded since then, just as I had failed and succeeded before I took that bus ride. But for me it’s a reminder to reflect on once in a while, to spur me to keep going and to be obedient when I feel the call. Just last week I was given the opportunity to share my faith with someone here on campus, and I was able to share boldly and without hesitation. Instead of wasting time worrying if I had done well enough or if I had sounded stupid, I spent that time praying that God would use my imperfect words to reach my friend. And you know how I felt after that? I was just as delighted to be given that opportunity to share as God was delighted to give it to me.

Stop second-guessing yourself when God asks you to do something. Stop hesitating, or you will rob yourself of the great privilege it is to be obedient to God.

Let’s live boldly today.