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Brave

Two weeks ago, it rained for 2 days straight. If you need to know anything about Madagascar, its that most of the roads here are NOT paved. This means there usually isn't a road that isn't full of potholes, crevices deep enough to hide soldiers in in the event of war, and red clay that just makes everything worse when wet.

This particular time, I had been traveling to a different city and didn't know that it had rained. This is problematic only on 1 road that I travel weekly. My national partner and I gear up and head for the village. On the way, I realize that the road was still very wet from the rain. This road has 2 main problem areas. The first being a small hill that is completely slick (meaning no rocks or crevices) red clay. Got up that hill. Thank goodness for 4wd! The second problem area, not as exciting.

This is a picture of this specific hill when it's dry
This hill is high. It has two main crevices and what isn't in the crevice are rocks. There is a big break towards the top of the hill that you have to just bounce along on the way up or you will get stuck. This hill, is not my friend. But we made it up the hill. Not easily, but once we were up, I could breathe a sigh of relief. I told my national partner "the road is bad and scary, but I love the people here, so it doesn't matter"...in Malagasy of course.

We finished the meeting and headed home...or back towards my slippery nemesis. I was prepared. I had my 4wd on. Started down the hill fine. Trucks tend to be light in their back-ends. All of a sudden, I feel my back end start to swing out and start to go sideways. Meanwhile, there is a huge stone in my direct path that needs moving. So, through panicked cries of "there is a stone!" and "I'm scared!", my national partner asked if the stone needed to be moved. It did. I stopped the vehicle completely. She hopped out and struggled to move the stone off the path. Hopped back in the vehicle and we started going again. We had stopped for long enough that the momentum that was gaining from my back-end also stopped. My tires found the crevices to keep me from sliding, and we made it!

I can't tell you the number of times I've been told that I'm brave. I can't because the number is far too many to count. I appreciate this encouragement because I need to be reminded to be brave, but it far from describes my feelings most days. But like many of my co-laborers, we are not brave. If being brave means moving across the ocean to another country, then yes, we are brave.

This story is proof that I, like anyone else, am just a scared little girl relying on a very strong Heavenly Father. There isn't anything that makes me special. I followed Jesus across the world (literally!). Many days I sit and think "man, I today didn't turn out how I thought it would." A lot of days I know deeply how inadequate I am. That is not brave.

Do you want to know what makes me brave? When I sit and reflect on God's goodness. That makes me brave. Or when I see Jesus unveil the darkness from someone's eyes. That makes me brave. Or when someone you're discipling shares the Gospel on their own and its clear. That makes me brave.

Jesus. He is who I rely on. He is where my strength comes from. I do not measure up...I never will. But I don't have to try to measure up. When Jesus is on your side, death has been beaten, the grave defeated, and risen in victory! No, I'm not special or brave. But the Father I look to, He is. And I am so grateful.

Comments

  1. UnknownAugust 30, 2018 at 10:33 PM

    Thank you for making me cry while I sit in a restaurant eating! I prayed for these folks in the Manakara area for so long and can't believe that I will actually be there within the week. Can't wait to meet the folks I've been praying for. Already feel that I love them! See you soon dear friend!

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