It wasn’t my idea to go to Mexico. My church has made several mission trips to establish churches and otherwise meet the needs of the primarily Mayan population that lives there, but I did not feel a particular compulsion to go. Frankly, our finances are tight, and our budget is allocated in our on-going goal of living debt-free. Diverting money to a mission trip and the associated expenses just seemed like a luxury we could not afford. Plus, it’s Christmas, the one time of the year when all I really want is to be at home with my family.
Miracle Number One
Then, earlier this year, my pastor and a couple of others approached me to ask if I would go, not so much as a missionary, but as a storyteller. Wondrous things are happening in Mexico, but no one is telling that story.
Then, earlier this year, my pastor and a couple of others approached me to ask if I would go, not so much as a missionary, but as a storyteller. Wondrous things are happening in Mexico, but no one is telling that story.
You know that scene in every episode of “Touched by an Angel” where Roma Downey is suddenly washed in white light, and she reveals that she was sent by God? Well, that didn’t happen, but it did feel a little like it. This is the kind of ministry I have dreamed about and hoped for: an opportunity to use my writing and storytelling craft to further the Kingdom of God. Miracle number one.
Miracle Number Two I made it clear upfront that money was a concern, and by pastor and a few wise advisers challenged me to take a leap of faith. Commit to go. Ask friends and family for monetary support. If there was a gap between the cost to go and what I raised, the church would make up the difference. OK, I thought, but if this is meant to be, if this is God-ordained, I wanted more. I did not want to take money from someone who felt called to the mission field, and if God really wanted me to go, He would provide the entire cost, even the cost of my passport.
I wrote an appeal letter and prayed about who to send it to. Within three weeks, I had raised the entire cost of my trip–$1,650. Then, the person who has been my friend the longest on this earth came for a visit and gave me a generous cash donation to help cover the cost of my passport. A few weeks later, another cash donation completely covered the cost of my passport with some room to spare for the sundries I would need to take with me. God provided every dollar of the expense to go on this trip, and the church did not have to take any funds away from anyone else. Every dollar. Miracle number two.
Miracle Number Three Less than a week after my passport arrived, I had my annual wellness check at work. My blood pressure was up, fairly significantly. I followed up with my doctor and nurse practitioner and since then, I have been a roller coaster of blood pressure checks and medication changes. It’s high, then crazy low, then normal, then high again. My doctor ordered a stress test and a renal ultrasound. A couple of days ago, I had to stop a workout because my pressures had dropped so low. Earlier that week, my diastolic pressure was double what it should be, and I had an irregular heartbeat. With the blood pressures out of whack and the end-of-year run on insurance deductibles, if I needed some kind of interventional treatment, it would need to happen quickly.
I recognize this for what it is: spiritual warfare. God had seemed to clear a path for me to be in Mexico, but there are principalities and powers of darkness that don’t want that to happen. Big things must be in store. During my daily prayer walk, I stumbled on that uncomfortable truth. I was making this trip about me, not about Christ. I wasn’t seeking Him first. I was so caught up in blood pressures and Christmas that I had failed to ask God to prepare me for this opportunity of a lifetime. Frustrated, I prayed before a doctor’s appointment, laying out a fleece like Gideon. I asked God to give me an unequivocal clear go-ahead for Mexico. Unfortunately, my test results were not back and my blood pressures were still erratic. My nurse practitioner asked me to wait while she consulted with my doctor.
“Did you hear what I told her?” my doctor asked as he entered the room. I did not. He repeated it. “Throw your blood pressure cuff away. There’s no way this is renal stenosis. I think it’s stress, and I think checking your blood pressure so often is making it worse. There is no reason for you not to go to Mexico. Have a merry Christmas.”
There it was. With no prompting from me, God had used my doctor to give me clear direction. Miracle number three.
This is the season of miracles, and the biggest one of all is the one I understand the least. Somehow, God provided a way for none of my sins to be held against me, and a way for Him to actually live inside me. Being confident in that truth, I know that no weapon formed against me can prosper. God is in control. I’m going to Mexico.
Feliz Navidad!
Comments
Post a Comment