So much me of longs to be normal. To have normal hair (even when I search curly hair tips it's never for my type of curls). To like normal shows (okay, maybe if I lived in the UK they would be normal but I'm pretty sure my roommate thinks I have the weirdest taste in TV since all the shows I watch lately are non-American popularized series - with the exception of Dowton Abbey and Call the Midwife). To have a normal path to travel down.
But let's face the facts. I am not normal. Not made to be, meant to be, called to be. And to be honest I'm not that envious of a normal life. I'm just envious of the answers people who have normal lives get to give. I'm envious of people not thinking you're weird for doing something other than the norm.
But conviction sets in. Those envies spring up from my desire to please others. My desires to fit in. My mindset has gotten out of whack once again, forgetting that pleasing should not, is not to be for anyone but One. And the more I look at His word. The more see it in action. The more I desire it. The more I realize there is no such as normal when it comes to following Christ. In Him society's norms go out the window.
The question I have asked myself over the past few months as I battle what is next. I must emphasize that I love my boyfriend, Michael, more than I thought I could love someone else. I have no doubt in my mind that God is bringing us together to marry, share this life together, to make His love known. Please know that before reading my next sentence.
My selfish desire for normalcy brought me fighting the path God had begun to mark out for Michael and I. You see, if you are unaware I am American. Born and bred, who just so happens to have a desire to be anywhere other than America (please don't take this as I don't love my home country, I do. I just don't feel called to live in it). Michael is Welsh. Born and bred in Wales, who just so happens to have a desire to go where God tells him but at this point really needs to remain in Wales. When we first began talking long-term and marriage, Wales was 100% without a doubt in my mind where I wanted to be. I love Wales. The summer I spend in Wales in 2009 was life changing. That summer I felt as if I was doing what I was made to do. Intentionally living out ministry. Being relationship and incarnational. As much as I have loved Spain and know I was supposed to come and serve here, I know those two months were a taste of what I was made to do, what I am supposed to. I am simply to incarnationally live out the Gospel. Location isn't really important, but my heart has longed to be in Wales.
Funny how okay we can be feel about things until reality hits. Speaking with a dear friend a while back, she confided in me that you really begin to look at a place differently upon the prospect of moving and living your life there. No truer words were ever spoken. Suddenly, when option to move there became more of a reality the longing I had to return to Wales - to minister there, to eventually marry Michael there - disappeared only to be replaced by fear. Fear of having to learn a new culture. Fear of having to figure out silly things that come so naturally to me in the US like going to the bank or the post office or even the grocery store. Fear of another visa process - especially when I am terrified of UK Immigration. Fear at the thought of not having a purpose. Fear of being the odd one when I open my mouth and out comes that confused American accent of mine (I refer to it as confused because it's not sure where it's from. It's what happens when you're raised in Miami by non-Hispanic parents, one of whom is from the mountains of Southwest Virginia where you'll spend your summers plus in North Carolina visiting other extended family members, only to later be transported to Lake Placid where half the town is confused of its correct accent, then to move to North Carolina for college where you'll soon learn you better consciously say long i or you'll have quite the twang. Anyways ramble over). The last few months have proven that there is a reason God says, "Do not be afraid," so many times.
Because He's bigger. He's stronger. He's able. He does the impossible. He's not normal. I belong to Jesus, the Prince of Peace who could have opted for a deluxe Roman palace but instead joyfully went to family of poor, everyday, average people. The Creator chose to be born in a stable. He invited shepherds and foreigners to welcome Him into the world. He decided to follow in the family business of carpentry before setting out to teach and perform miracles - most of which He did to the unwanted, the unclean, the unloved. He was the Great High Priest, but yet his closest friends weren't the Pharisees they were fisherman and a tax collector and a bunch of other misfits. He died. Or rather He allowed Himself to be murdered to pay a debt He did not owe. He conquered death for the same ones who hung Him on the tree. He followed a very abnormal, unexpected path. I claim I belong to Him, and yet I have cried more tears in the last few months of the desire for a normal path to walk when I gave up everything to be killed in my place. He left heaven and perfection for me. He beckons me a dirty sinner. He cleans me and wants to use for His purpose. Humbling and convicting do not begin to describe how I feel over my need for a normal path.
If I want a normal path, I can take it. I can choose that that is what I will do next. I can return to the US where I know how things work. Where my accent won't make me stand out. I can get a normal teaching job. I could choose that. But I'm letting go normalcy. I'm putting down my desire to fit in and follow a certain path that my mind says is what is normal. I laying it at the foot of the cross. Because choosing normal means missing out on God's greatness. Normal might be good, but I need great. I need God.
So where does that leave me? My time in Spain ends in just around 4 months. In leaving normal behind, where is God leading me?
My prayer is back to Wales.
For as long as I can remember one vision Michael and I have both had is to move to into a neighborhood in need and live out Christ's love amongst our neighbors. To be honest I always held this idea for something later on down the road.
Even when the good ol' USA seems more appealing simply due to comfort and ease, the fact is I feel God leading me to Wales. All confirmation for both Michael and I has been for him to stay in Wales and for me to move there. But the question has been how? Being American offers up some challenges. At this time Michael and I don't meet the visa requirements to marry and we also feel it would be best for us to grow our relationship a bit with both of us in the same place before jumping into marriage. Also at this point I can't really afford to study in the UK nor do I know what I would study if I continue to be honest. In the US I'd say I'm part Scottish, part Irish, part English, and part German. You are your heritage in the US. But being in Spain has taught me I'm not really any of those; I'm American. And since my parents and grandparents are US born, there is no way I can work in the UK. And I didn't want to go through a mission or a church because I didn't want anyone to think I was using them or raising support to simply be with Michael.
However, the door I didn't want to open suddenly was the only one left. Michael knew of Ignite from doing youth work in South Wales. Actually, I knew of Ignite, too, from the summer I was in Wales. Based on a couple of conversations and a few emails exchanges, the head of Ignite and the director of their intern program agreed to meet with me last November. I shared my story and they shared their about their ministry and spoke a neighborhood in need of Christ and the vision they had for Tremorfa. Incarnational, relationship ministry. People moving into the neighborhood and living life there. Loving their neighborhoods as Christ did. Being intentional. Allowing ministry to flow. Michael and I both left that meeting encouraged. We left hopeful and excited. We left with a tug in our hearts.
I also left with the realization that this would mean everything I didn't want to do. I didn't want to come to Wales through a ministry for fear how it would look. I didn't want to raise support for fear how it would look. Though even as I write this I can't help but think of Mary. She had Jesus despite how it looked. God's ways aren't my ways...and His way may just happen to be the way I didn't want to go.
But I'm not going yet. Before you think this is a done deal. It's not. Nothing has been confirmed. There is no sign on the dotted line. Honestly, for this to work, God has to move in some big ways because there is literally no way I can make this happen. Only God can. I share this because I need you to know my heart. To know the place where I find myself today. To say that this can't happen without God and without prayer. To ask you to join me in prayer.
Before anything can officially be decided, I have been asked to visit Tremorfa (the neighborhood). To walk around first hand with a girl who is currently ministring there and living there with her husband. To get a better feel for what it is I would doing and where it is I would be doing it. To visit the church and worship with brothers and sisters there. I value vision trips, so I value what the weekend of February 15th will bring.
So I find myself dedicating to prayer and asking you to come alongside me in prayer. Pray for confirmation. This very well may be the door God is opening, but it might not be. For myself and Ignite to have a clear vision as to whether this is God's will or not. For me and for Michael, I don't want this to be a one year commitment and then we leave it behind. For me, I want to ask specifically for God to bring about some confirmation that Michael and I once married our to commit to a long-term ministry there, committing to move there and love there. This is too big for Michael and I to not be willing to make that decision. So we need prayer. Pray for clarity. Pray for confirmation. Pray for guidance.
The closer my visit in February gets the more excited I become. I cannot get it out of my head, and frankly I don't want to. But I don't want to move unless God moves. I am like the Israelites in the desert, moving onward to the Promise Land. Where God stopped, they stopped. And where God moved, they moved. That's what I want. And if God isn't moving me there, then I won't move there. But if He is, and I do hope He is, then joyfully and obediently I will move forward.
We serve a God who far more than we can ask for and definitely far more than we deserve. And I firmly believe He will do something great in this. So I ask that you join me in prayer for the next 11 days I seek His face and His guidance. I ask you through prayer to be apart of this next journey with me.
May our hearts be filled with His unspeakable joy. May we not settle for normal, but instead strive for something greatly odd, seemingly peculiar, and all together Holy.
Here are some pictures of when Michael and I wandered around Tremorfa for a bit in November.
