That GREAT Commission: no. 6

Well, here it is. My fingers absolutely tremble when I type--I don't know if it's because I'm excited or because I'm terrified and if it's because I'm excited, what am I excited for? If it's because I'm terrified, what scares me so much? I think it's both. No, I don't think, I know. Here it is. I've been praying for 6 months. I've been praying for longer than that. For years I've wanted to go to Africa. For years, it has felt like a burden, a weight, on my heart. I already know that this won't be the only time I go--don't ask me 'how' I know, but I do.

We had a meeting last night at the Center for Lifelong Learning building on the West Briarcliff Campus at school. This building also houses the headquarters for the World Methodist Evangelism Institute. We spent 45 minutes just welcoming each other and re-introducing ourselves. It was good to look around and see the faces of the people I'll be spending the next 2 weeks with. It was refreshing to hear their stories and hear their hopes. Some people have done things like this before already. We're taking a doctor with us--Dr. Hankey--who's been on dozens of these trips already. I hope to spend some time hearing about his experiences. There are several students with us who were blessed to go to the Bahamas for a trip like this back in January I believe--they don't seem nervous. I am.

Last night I discovered that I don't have a voice like I thought I did. If I sit down and try to practically map out how I might share my story, my faith, with a complete stranger I can't do it. I get clammy. I'm afraid or intimidated. Wow. And this is what I'm going to do. How on earth have I gotten this far without realizing that I am terrified, actually, about honest evangelism? Maybe that IS why I'm going. Maybe God is trying to help me find my voice. I can actually hear the voices of some of my friends laughing right now (Karen, Fran, Joey, Nathan....). Sara? Afraid to speak? Sara? Without words to say? Not SARA!! I'm laughing now too. I am not afraid to speak my mind. I never have been. But now we are speaking our hearts. We are speaking our souls. We are leaving this place to go speak a very part of our being. In that we are vulnerable. We let people see our (figurative) naked selves. Last night I discovered that I can either embrace that vulnerability and in turn allow myself to be lead by the Spirit (that ethereal being we don't talk about much unless it is the season of Pentecost) or I can cower in it, fight it, lose to it.

I cannot leave today assuming that I am coming from the greatest and most blessed place on this earth to venture into a world of people who aren't as smart as me or are less-fortunate. I have to leave today without my boxing gloves on. I cannot fight for this status that has become so much of the culture of the American society. The only status that I have to fight for is that I am a child of God. This is at the forefront of my mind.

I pray to find my voice. I won't be preaching myself in Africa--I was too afraid to say that I would. I need a voice. I need a voice appropriate for "there". I have a story--one that I've always thought boring. Winston, last night, told us to share our story--that even if we don't feel that it's that relevant that SOMEONE 'needs' our story. Why else would I be there? Why else would God have made this so possible for me? Someone needs to hear MY story. Someone needs to hear the Gospel story. I hope and pray desperately that God helps me find that person and that when the time comes I am made qualified, as a child of God, with confidence and boldness, meekness and humility, in that moment to fulfill my call as a Christian, as a woman, as a child of God--that GREAT Commission.