I’ll have the “Rest in the Lord” Special with a side of “Peace.”

Life is stressful.  

There’s no getting around it.

It doesn’t matter what country you’re in.

And being on new ground experientially can add to the pressures of life, too—even when you welcome the change.

This was the first time Tracy and I took a team with us to Africa, albeit a small one.  Our daughter Anna has gone to Africa with us before, first when she was ten years old, then again when she was fourteen.  But this trip we had the privilege of taking three women with us: Jana Durham, a long-time friend we used to attend church with and a 32 year old mother of two; Casey McMahon, a 20 year old college student I met in Texas when I spoke at her church’s women’s retreat; and Sara Nowlan, our oldest daughter (33 yrs.) and mother to three of our fantastic grandchildren. 

The five of us were eager for our adventure as soon as our plane touched down.  But advice from other missionaries reminded me of two things: 1) it’s best to check your expectations at the door on a mission trip, because it is always different from the way you envisioned it, and 2) nothing happens fast in Africa.

Picking up our luggage at baggage claim, we discovered one of my suitcases was missing.  We filled out the necessary paperwork and hoped for the best, then headed for Dollar Car Rental, where we picked up a white, ten passenger van.  The only reason we needed that much space was for our bags; each of us packed as much as possible to give away to the children we’d be meeting. 

Stepping outside was a shock.  Even though we always visit during the South African winter, in the past we’ve only needed sweaters for cool evenings—it’s usually in the 60’s and 70’s.  But we were hit with a frigid wind, and the girls and I were uneasy about what we’d packed.  I felt responsible, having given them the list of what they should bring.  My imagination took off, first picturing five shivering short-term missionaries huddled together, blowing on our cold fingers, and bobbing up and down on our toes to try to get warm; then envisioning Tracy pulling out his wallet at the mall in Johannesburg to pay for a pile of coats.  Not in the budget.  Gulp.  Gave myself a speech: It won’t help to stress about this; you can’t change it now.  Trust in the Lord.  Everything will work out.  He’s ultimately responsible for the team—even for you.  Ahhh.  I felt better.

Everyone was hungry, so we headed for Nando’s, where the girls had their first taste of Peri Peri sauce.  Casey became an instant addict!  J  I’d forgotten how hot it was, and even though I’m no wimp when it comes to spicy foods, I couldn’t finish my chicken and rice dish.  Reminder to self: wear plenty of lip balm and order the medium next time we eat at Nando’s. 

Since we arrived in the evening, we spent our first night in Africa at the Baptist Guest House in Johannesburg, South Africa, instead of traveling in the dark to Swaziland.  Thankfully there were electric heaters in our rooms and plenty of blankets.  We awakened early the next morning and headed to McDonald’s, where we ate a breakfast that looked familiar.  Smile.  Then we loaded up again and began our five hour drive to Pastor Lewis’s house in Motshane, Swaziland.

Border crossings can be stressful, but the Lord had a special blessing waiting for us as we went into Swaziland.  At the customs counter, a young African man behind the desk made eye contact with me, perking up when he heard me telling the officials what our business would be while in their country.  We were delighted to realize that this was a dear young man named Comfort whom we’d met at Hope House two years ago!  He was also glad to see us, and everyone in the customs office lit up with smiles because we knew this fellow.  He was working there temporarily doing surveys for the government.  He showed us his office and gave us information about the tourist attractions.  And although his job was keeping him from church most weekends, he promised to come see us that Saturday when we were at Hope House again.  All of our paperwork received the proper stamps, and we were through in good time.

The girls were as eager as we were to get started in our work with the children, but we had a bit of a predicament.  Nothing serious, but still a detail we felt was important.  Jana is a zoologist and directs the Hutchinson Zoo, so it seemed imperative that we take her to the game reserve to see the African animals.  But she was only staying for the first third of our trip, and Pastor Lewis had scheduled us to go to the game reserve after Jana would be gone.  The only day with a schedule we could change was the next day—our very first day that we could have begun our ministry.

I felt torn.  I knew it was right to take Jana to the game reserve, but I struggled with what others might think.  How would it look if we spent our very first available day relaxing and enjoying the animals at a place where the children couldn’t even afford to go instead of working?  How would our donors feel about our “lounging”?  Not to mention the people who worked so hard on our fundraisers!  But no matter how many times I reviewed the schedule, I couldn’t see any other day that would be suitable.  Pastor Lewis had worked so hard to ensure we had time set aside for meeting with all the children; we couldn’t change those dates.  He was gracious about rescheduling our time with his board of directors, so we made our reservations at Mkhaya Game Reserve for the next day.

The weather was perfect!  (Thank You, Lord!)  Our guide was extremely knowledgeable and personable.  

Jana loved chatting with our guide about the habits of the animals . . .

Sara took detailed notes about the many varieties of trees . . . 

. . . and Casey was just happy that we got to see so many giraffes—her favorite.  

Tracy and I were glad to have no responsibilities as we bumped along in the jeep and let the sun kiss our cheeks pink. 

And in the midst of the beautiful African terrain, I was reminded again of a lesson the Lord has been faithfully teaching me for almost four years: He wants me to rest in Him.  Truth be told, He’s been trying to get this one through to me during my entire journey with Him, but I’m in the remedial class. Sometimes slow to understand that I can’t control everything—not even our schedule.  I can plan, but He directs our steps.  I live to please Him, not anyone else.  He is well able to get us in the right place at the right time doing the right things with the right people for the right reasons.  (Like our friend Woody Woodson says.) 

He was pleased for me to sit back and enjoy His creation without a care in the world.  He doesn’t want me to “do” all the time; He also wants me to enjoy life.  No matter how much I love my service to Him, I can’t do it in my own strength.  And I can’t be effective if I’m running on empty all the time. 

Nor if I torment myself with what I think everybody else expects of me.  Most of my concerns are only real in my own head, not in what others actually think about me or our ministry.  My worrying can’t add even one moment to my life.  In fact, it takes moments away, stealing the joy Jesus means for me to experience.

It takes more than Bible study and prayer and worship to be prepared to minister.  Our physical needs are also important.  A familiar Scripture took on new meaning: “He makes me lie down in green pastures; He restores my soul.”  (Psalm 23:2)  Yes, I admit that sometimes He has to make me.  Smile.

Even in Africa, where I was ready to jump into service, He wanted me to be still and know that He is God.  Cool my wheels.  Wait on Him.  Trust His timing.

Even though another meeting had been added to our schedule: a women’s meeting at the International Church on the College of Theology Campus—for that night!  I had to trust we’d get back in time.  I had to trust that His Word dwelt in me richly, so I’d be able to share from that abundance even with very little preparation time.  And I had to trust that even if my bag hadn’t yet arrived, I’d be able to fit into something of Sara’s and get ready without the outfits I’d selected for the trip.

Which was exactly how things went.  I arrived at the meeting in my daughter’s clothes, my husband’s deodorant, and my Savior’s love.  I already knew that during this trip, He wanted me to speak from Matthew 6:33-34, seeking first His Kingdom and His righteousness.  For these women, He fine-tuned that message to show them that seeking His Kingdom first means seeking to make Him King in every area of their lives.  That it’s a love relationship with the King of kings.  That as our King, He only wants what is best for us.  His will is good.  Holy.  Lovely.  Right.  He’s crazy about us.  We don’t have to earn His favor; just love Him back. He waits for us with blessings beyond anything we can imagine—all for those who truly put Him first.

And His message came home to me, too, as I shared with these precious sisters across the ocean.  “So the King will greatly desire your beauty; because He is your Lord, worship Him.” Psalm 45:11

Seeking His Kingdom means seeking to let Him have dominion as King.  We don’t carry the weight of the world on our shoulders.  No, the government of the entire universe rests on His. 

We worship a God so powerful that He holds it all, yet so loving that He considers us beautiful, even with our imperfections.  So beautiful that He desires an intimate relationship with us! 

Sort of takes the stress out of the little stuff, doesn’t it?

It did for me. 

And the day of rest, physically, emotionally, mentally, and even spiritually, set the tone for the rest of our trip. 

Mmmmmmm, I think I want another helping.  

Getting there. 

Note: This was accidentally posted on my Becky Spencer Ministries blog, so I'm adding it to this correct page today.  It's from July 19, 2012.

Getting there.  

Tracy, our 16 year old daughter Anna, and I packed into the wee hours the night before we left, double checking our lists and crossing off each item that made it into the suitcases.  I’d started days earlier, but planning to be gone for an entire month still pushed me into last minute scrambling.  We were zipping up the bags with relief, looking forward to finally shutting our eyes for a few hours, when one of the suitcase zippers busted.

Panic set in. There are no department stores in Buhler, and we were too tired to drive into Hutchinson. Solution? Leave early enough to make a Wal-Mart run before our flights the next morning. So we fell exhausted into bed with our alarm set to roll us out in plenty of time and a prayer for grace that all the details would work out fine.

Our son Nathan picked us up and got us to the store in Wichita. We found a bag that would suffice, paid quickly, and suddenly realized there wasn’t room for it in the back of the Jimmy.  So we juggled things and held bags across our laps.  Hadn’t thought through to how long it would take to transfer all our stuff to the new suitcase, but with sweat beading on our backs, we finally crammed every item in, sure that we’d still have plenty of time to make our flight.

Of course, that didn’t take into account that the printer for the luggage was on the blink at check-in.  Nor could we have foreseen that the clerk didn’t have the correct information for what to do with an overweight bag.  I assured her that I could pay extra to have up to 70 pounds, but she searched through pages of documents to try to find the information herself.  She couldn’t see it, so she made a phone call and was on hold a long time.  Now we were really starting to sweat as minutes ticked away.

I could imagine how uneasy our friend and team member Jana must be getting since we hadn’t yet shown up at the gate. But the clerk wasn’t in a hurry at all. She was way too calm to suit me. I wanted to give her an injection of adrenaline.  I could have made coffee nervous by then! I kept looking at the time, wringing my hands, and biting my lips. Okay, and my tongue. I sure didn’t want to say anything that would make the clerk move any slower just to spite me!

She finally realized we were going to miss our flight, so she said she’d take my word for it and ran my credit card.  By then the printer was working, so she handed us our paperwork and shooed us to security, cautioning us that we had about ten minutes to make it.

Naturally, security was also stressful. They decided they needed to run my carry-on bag through twice and open it to visually check my powder supplements. My driver’s license fell behind a table—I didn’t see it happen, but thankfully one of the TSA employees did. I had to run to get to the gate. Jana was as antsy as I’d suspected she’d be. She’d texted our oldest daughter Sara, who like Casey from Texas, was meeting us in DC, so she’d called to find out what in the world was going on. But we made the flight.

Our flight in Houston was delayed, though. So when we arrived in DC, we didn’t even get to give Anna a proper goodbye or last minute instructions before leaving her for an entire month. Just a fast hug and a nod in the general direction of baggage claim where our son-in-law was going to pick her up. She was terrified that she’d get lost. I was worried that I couldn’t remind her about checking her blood sugars or taking good care of her niece and nephews for the month. We had to trust that the Lord would watch over all of us—and it had to come to us on the run.

Literally! We raced to the gate where Casey waited where all but one of the other passengers were already boarded. The clerk at the gate determined our carry-ons were too heavy, so those had to be checked. But at least we made it, once again. It barely registered that we’d hugged our oldest daughter Sara hello in DC, too, as she showed us where to hurry to our gate. We caught our breath, gave better hugs, and settled in for the final 18 hour flight.

Jana and Sara ready to catch up now that they live more than 18 hrs. apart--and would have 18 hrs. in the air!

We had an hour delay while fueling in Dakar, but it allowed us to stand up and stretch a bit. We got to know Casey a little bit better in between cat naps and shuttling to the airplane toilet.  

Casey and me with my infamous neck pillow

I read, watched a movie, prayed, and walked the aisle. And dreamed of what our journey would bring to each person on the team.

Yikes, Tracy and I started the trip already completely exhausted!  Not sure if the poor guy beside us was really into his movie or just couldn't stand our snoring.  Yep, we're mouth open sleepers. Ewwwww.

Because all the stress and rushing and near misses aside, our anticipation was intact. Getting there was just the first step in a month long journey that was filled with potential and the call of God on this team of five. We knew with everything in us that none of the trials of getting there would be able to take away even a tiny bit of the joy we would discover once we met the Africans, young and old, that He had planned for us to interact with.  We were ready for the unknown future because of the faithful God we know.

And I can see that our years on this earth are a lot like our flights that took us to Africa.  Filled with challenges, requiring patient waiting on others who might not share our sense of urgency, hurrying up to wait. Feeling like our interactions with loved ones are just a blur as we rush by because it’s going too fast.

Our lives are but a vapor, a grass that quickly withers. Hardships are guaranteed. But when we finally reach our heavenly destination, all of the struggles of getting there will quickly fade. And the unknown will lose every hint of fear because we know the King Who prepared for our stay.

Getting there is just the first step.

And so worth the trip.