So here’s the thing. I now own a couch. I didn’t want one. I
didn’t ask for one. But I have one now. It’s mocha brown (sounds fancier than
just brown) with some fun pillows. My mom and I sat and rolled on couches a few
months ago in the furniture store to find THE couch. I tried to tell her I didn’t
need it. She and my dad blessed me with it anyways. It’s a nice couch. But it
feels so permanent.
The entire reentry into your own culture is one of those
most bizarre experiences. You go through weird feelings and freak out moments over
couches and iphones (these situations may or may not be referring to real life
instances). You don’t really know where you fit. You’ve seen the world. You’ve
seen how the rest of the world is still never quite as materialistic as
Americans. You’ve seen a level of suffering that makes you wonder why you got
so lucky. All the while you become an outsider to your old world without you
getting the memo. Americans seem so silly to me at times, and yet I know and
can follow their way of thinking. I also know that I’m so silly at times.
As I readied myself to come home for my rest period and
surgery, I knew two things were facts. I did not want to move to Fayetteville
(been there, done that), and I did not want to work for a church(I hear it’s a
tough job). So I tried to leave the country again. I went to Haiti with full
intentions of moving there. Packing up my things. Leaving this world of
technology and stuff. Unplugging. Sweating. Hard work. Tears. Hungry babies.
Raw life on life ministry in poverty. I was ready for it all. I knew I could do
it. But then, strangely enough, God closed that door. I know why, and sometimes
I don’t know why, but it left me with a new decision to make. A job had been
offered to me before I went to Haiti. It included two things: 1)move to
Fayetteville 2) work for the church I went to in college
HA! The joke’s on me, right? When the job was proposed to
me, I could imagine myself doing college ministry. It seemed too easy. It
seemed effortless. Not hard enough. Not getting deep enough in the trenches. In
spite of all of my silly, know-it-all presumptions about my next big step, I
felt confident that Haiti was a closed door. The college ministry door swung
wide open and a pathway cleared. A step where I could still be of service to my
God. A step that didn’t require much of me physically, which in reality is a
huge blessing still. A step that in many ways would extend my rest. A step of
faith to stay when all I want to do is go.
So here I am. Fayetteville, Arkansas. Women’s collegiate
ministry. I have found the trenches to be deep, dirty, and full of muck. I have
found the college students ready for the Gospel to rock their worlds. I have
been overwhelmed and amazed at their open arms to me. God has been faithful to
show me internationals I can love and embrace in the here and now. I have been blessed. Period. No question about
it. And yet I’m always looking forward. My heart still beats to the nations.
As I watch my friends return to serve overseas(with a ting
of jealousy might I add), I have made a decision. God willing I will be part of the raising
up of an army of college students in northwest Arkansas that will go to the world.
Their impact for the Gospel WILL BE FELT in this earth and in the heavens. God ‘s
spirit is heavy on them, and they want to see God’s love transform. God willing
I will serve my heart out and cherish this time He has set before me. It’s
still very uncertain to me, and in the back of my mind I wonder why He has me
here and for how long. As my mom says, the cloud has shifted here, but it has yet
to move again.
So like the
Israelites I’ll follow the cloud by day and the fire by night. My God is an all
consuming fire. I can trust Him. Even when I think I know it all, He must get a
giggle in every now and then watching me “figure out” my life. So much for all of my plans!
So there it is. I have a couch in my life. I’ve dedicated it
to the service of the Lord. Maybe you just laughed but no, really. It’s the
only way I could handle it being in my life. I have promised to use it for
friends to sleep on when passing through. I have promised to have conversations
on it that glorify the Lord. And last but not least, I have promised to not
love it, and I’ll leave it if necessary whenever God calls me to the next place
or next step. But for now He has me here. Even though I don't have much to offer I feel confident He will use this broken soul for His glory. The miracle of it all is that He's done it before.
So that couch is not so permanent after all. Whew, I can breathe! But I must
remember how my God is eternal and everlasting. My citizenship is permanent in
Christ. No couch can slow me down or hold me down!
Hallelujah. Amen. Pray for me as I battle in the trenches
with college students. They are truly warriors.
Taryn
