Faith [fullness]

The team in Kibera slum

*Photo Credit: Jason Lavengood Photography

In the process of adapting to a new culture, working two internships, and attempting to remain a sane person, I haven’t had a lot of time to reflect on what exactly this summer is for me. Which sounds a little strange. I already know this summer is an internship, a requirement for graduation.

But it’s also the fulfillment of a dream.

I’m living in another country, working as a writer and photographer. I am required to do what I love as my job. Seriously cool. I can check a life dream off my list.

But for some reason, I didn’t entirely connect that fact until a few days ago, which immediately launched me into the thoughts of “Where do I go from here?”

You see, because this is the first time I’ve had a big dream fall into place, I don’t exactly know what to do next (even though I’m only halfway through the current opportunity). I’ve been so consumed with doing and planning and going that I have no idea what to do now that the dream is actually here.

Instead of praying for something to happen, now I’m coming to God and asking ...

“Well, now what?”

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One of the amazing things about working at Beacon is being surrounded by an incredible Christian staff. Part of my daily routine is going to morning devotions. Inevitably, I am either too early or too late (still figuring out the African timing thing) so I make an awkward, sheepish entrance. Additionally, I’ve had two spectacular falls in the past week, so I also come in mud-stained and disheveled. Awesome.

Anyway.

Most of the singing is in Swahili, and often the message is as well, but I always leave encouraged. The staff members all take turns leading the service and share what’s on their hearts, as well as their personal testimonies. Which are usually too unbelievably tragic to explain.

And while I can’t often understand the entire messages (usually half English/half Swahili) I feel like they’re all geared towards me. For the past week, the speakers have talked about one thing in a variety of different forms: faithfulness.

Which brings me to some interesting conclusions.

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Last Sunday, I went to church with a few other members of the WND teamin Kibera slum. For those of you who read my previous blog post about Kibera, you’ll understand that I was expecting an emotional experience.

But it wasn’t what I thought it would be.

Trekking through the slum for the second time wasn’t easier or harder than the first, it was just different. This time, instead of filth and brokenness and poverty, I started to notice homes. Neighbors. Communities and lives instead of just problems. Don’t get me wrong, the experience was still jarring, but not for the same reasons.

As I was walking, all I could think to myself was “Life goes on here. No matter the circumstances, life goes on.”

We arrived about an hour late to the service (due to my getting lost in Nairobi. Fail). Still, we were the only people inside the church besides the worship team.

To our surprise (and his), when the service started Barry was asked to speak. He claims he had nothing prepared, but the sermon he gave was wonderful. Speaking through an interpreter, he told stories of God’s grace despite hard circumstances.

And yes, Barry, I know you’re reading this. Don’t get too big of a head from the compliments. ☺

Barry used Psalm 73 to talk about the frustration he had at the needs he found in the world. Speaking from experience, Barry related to the psalms author, Asaph, when Asaph questioned why the wicked, and not the good, prospered.

While sharing a Bible with my neighbor, Lawrence, two verses stood out to me.

“Whom have I in heaven but you? I desire you more than anything on earth.
 My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever.”

The service continued with three hours worth of speaking, prayer and worship. As I heard the people around me singing words I didn’t understand, as I listened to them cry out in anguish to God through prayers, I was entirely humbled.

I was humbled not because of the needs the people had around me, even though they were overwhelming. I was humbled not because the preaching was incredibly powerful, even though it was. I was humbled, instead, because of the steadfast faith I saw inside that little building.

Faith that would have amazed me anywhere, not just in the middle of Kibera.

In that moment, to me the congregation wasn’t made up of people living in Nairobi’s biggest slum. I simply saw them as fellow children of God.

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As I was leaving my house this morning to go to work, I reflected on my experiences over the weekend. A day in Kibera will give anyone plenty to think about, but I simply found myself pondering the same phrase.

“I desire you more than anything on earth.”

More than anything. Hm.

When I think about this summer, the plans I’ve made and the dream I’m living, I find that I’m still not fulfilled.

Yes, God gave me a tremendous blessing by answering my prayers and letting me be here, doing what I’m doing. But even as I ask him “What’s next?” I’m discovering what I’m missing.

I’m still missing faith.

Even though He’s done such good things for me, I don’t have the same faith I find in the staff here at Beacon when they give testimonies riddled with pain and abuse with a joyful smile.

I don’t have the faith of the everyday people in Kibera, living life where they do, and regardless, having complete devotion to their savior.

I don’t even have the faith to just be where I am without asking questions. To trust that God knows my dreams better than I do. So without that type of faith, I’ll always be missing fullness.

Which is a sobering thought.

As a result, I’m re-thinking the way I’m going about making dreams. What if I don’t need a specific dream to replace this one ... what If I let a growing hunger to know God replace it?

Could it be that giving up the “dream-making” aspect of myself is actually what’s going to bring me fullness?

That’s going to be hard for someone like me. Someone who likes plans. Who has a bookmark for gradschools.com and secretly wants to work for The New York Times or the U.N. Maybe both. At the same time.

But while it may be difficult , I think the change is essentially to me finally becoming who God wants me to be. Someone full.

Someone faithful.