lessons learn(ing).

Definitely not lessons learned. For I'm afraid I am a forever messy, complicated work in progress. But, really, aren't we all?

(Someone please say yes.)

No, these are most certainly not lessons I've already achieved, overcome and moved on from. They are simply little tidbits into this ongoing process of life overseas, as a sinner saved by grace, who continually stumbles, falls, laughs quite a bit at herself and then, by the grace of God, starts again.

These are my lessons learn(ing).

I am learning patience. Everyone who knows me is now saying to themselves, "Thank you, God!" It's no secret that patience is something I often lack. (It's my mother's fault, really.) I hate waiting, I hate traffic, I hate lines. I hate how I still don't know Thai (shouldn't 2 months of studying do the trick?), I hate how we ordered a desk 3 months ago and it still isn't finished, and I hate that mail takes 2 to 3 weeks to get here. But alas, I am learning. And I am learning that being in a hurry doesn't make things go faster and it doesn't necessarily make life more productive. Impatience simply breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement and failure. Patience creates peace, grace, confidence and faith. I am, and forever will be, learning patience.

I am learning that I still don't like vegetables. It's a lost cause, really. I came to Thailand with an open mind, to try new things, and to start liking vegetables. However, the hatred still remains. And I think our lunch guy at the market is starting to get the hint. Every day I return my plate to him with all the vegetables pushed to the side. Slowly but surely, he has put less and less veggies in my stir fry. Bless his heart. I love that he is learning that I still don't like vegetables.

I am learning how to be a 3 year old again. With knowing around 1,000 Thai words, my speech pathologist friend told me that I have now advanced to talking like a 3 year old. Woohoo. I am really starting to feel for all the 3 year old's out there. You want so badly to be able to communicate, yet the words just aren't there. And even when you do venture out and use the few words that you know, people just laugh and think it's "cute". Did I say the wrong word? Is my accent incomprehensible? Or are you just mean-spirited? Steven and I have succumbed to a lot of hand motions and simple statements. "I want the red cup." "I like bread." "I am from America. Yes, I know I look Thai, but I am Japanese...well, I don't speak Japanese and no, my grandparents have never lived in Japan...but I do speak Spanish...and English...and now I am learning Thai." Okay, so maybe we are doing a little better than I give ourselves credit for, but nevertheless, I am learning how to redefine my definition of communication.

I am learning how to be a team player. Our marriage has never felt like more of a team effort than it does now. We do everything together. Eat, go to class, study, ride the motorcycle, run errands, go on dates, watch TV, read, etc. We've spent more time together in these last 4 months than we have in our entire marriage previous to Thailand. And while sometimes we start picking at each other like brother and sister, for the most part, our marriage has never been better. There's something about working together towards a common goal that has uniquely united us. It takes the will out of fighting against one another and pushes us towards grace and encouragement. If I fail, we fail. If Steven has a good day, we have a good day. I have loved learning how to be one with my husband.

I am learning how to do nothing. Maybe the hardest lesson of them all. But there have been days where I have been depressed from the lack of activity and interaction in my life. As someone who prided herself on being busy and social, this whole "studying language all day" approach has really challenged me. Throw in the fact that we are living on support for the first time and the self induced pressure to be doing something worthwhile. It's a recipe for a major identity crisis. I am having to remind myself daily that it is not what I do that makes me valuable. It is who I am and who I belong to. My worth is in knowing Jesus Christ and being known by Him. Nothing more, nothing less. And somewhere in the midst of all this, I know that studying hard and taking time to learn Thai is God-honoring, God-exalting, Kingdom work. It just doesn't feel and look so glamorous to the me or the outside world. I am learning how to live for an Audience of One.

I am learning that I am not a Superhero. Crossing the ocean and calling myself a missionary has not given me any special powers. (And as funny as that sounds, I kind of thought it would...) But to my dismay, my flesh still remains. I still struggle with spending time in the Word every day. I still get impatient, snippy, and prideful. I still find myself reaching for the American dream. I still have a hard time trusting God. I still want control, I still miss home, and I still can't believe I am in Thailand. I am no more godly just because I am here. I am still me, with all my imperfections, just trying to live out the Gospel in a different place. I am learning that it's not my title change that changes who I am.

It's allowing God to keep teaching me the lessons He wants me to be learning.

for my momma.

I have always been attached to my mother.

Steven often wonders when this attachment will lessen--as he can only hope that one day I'll stop sleeping with her old, torn up t-shirt. Yes, I'm talking about my blankie. And yes, I brought them to Thailand and they are currently on my bed.

Stop judging.

Anyway. When I was a little girl, I remember never wanting to leave my mother's side. I would cry every day when she would leave me at this awful daycare--they would make me eat all my vegetables before I could have my "free time". It was such abuse, really. I'm convinced that's why I still cannot eat vegetables to this very day. I remember being frightened of the idea of spending the night over at a friend's house, for that would mean a night away from my momma. I would follow her around everywhere. Help her cook in the kitchen, run errands all around town, cheer my brothers on at whatever sport they were currently playing. To me, it didn't matter what I was doing. As long as my mom was right there, by my side, the world, my world, was just as it should be.

My mother has always been my safe haven.

When I was a teenager, I would tell my mother everything. We had a relationship that mirrored Gilmore Girls. I could tell her anything and she had this miraculous ability to then feel whatever I was feeling. If I was excited, she was excited. If I was sad, she was sad. My joys were her joys. My sorrows, her sorrows. I remember crying in bed one night to her when a boy I liked hurt my feelings. She just held me, reassured me and cried with me. As I look back at my teenage-dramatic filled years, I am sure my "problems" seemed so silly to her. What boy to go with to the dance, what friend was being mean to me, what outfit I should wear on my first date. And as silly and unimportant as those things really were, my mom always made me feel understood and valid. She never made me feel stupid, but built me up and cared for me. My confidence was born here--from her support and unconditional love.

My mother has always been my confidant and my best friend.

When I grew up and into adulthood, my mother continued to teach me. She taught me how to serve others well. For example, when I lived at home the year I was engaged, I would have to leave the house at 5 in the morning to make it to work ahead of the traffic. Every morning, without fail, my mom would wake up with me, cook me a warm breakfast and pack my lunch. (Seriously, who does that?) She has always done things like that for her kids--selflessly giving of herself to make our lives easier, better, happier. My mother has shown me what a good marriage looks like--to love someone unconditionally and whole-heartedly and to have fun doing it. My parents still hold hands, still cuddle, still banter flirtatiously and still are the best of friends. My mother has continually challenged me to not see everything so black and white. She has become a strong voice of reason when I can't see the other side of things. She is my truth teller, exposing hard and sinful things in my life and not being afraid to do so. I have loved watching my mom and following her lead as a strong woman.

My mother has always been my example.

And when I moved to Thailand, my mother let me go. And I don't mean it in the physical sense of letting me leave. I mean it in the most heart wrenching, faith building, utter dependence on God kind of way. I know full well that this is not her first choice for me. I know she'd rather have me close to home where we would watch tv together, cook dinner together, and do life together. I know she doesn't want her grandbabies an ocean away. And I know that the thought of me staying in Thailand longer than 3 years makes her heart hurt. But despite these things, she still let me go, realizing what many mother's never realize. That I am not her child, but that I am God's child first. And if I am God's, then He will know how to take care of me even better than she. That He, in His perfect love, will be my safe haven. My confidant. My best friend. My example.

When I moved to Thailand and my mother let me go, I have never felt more loved by her in my entire life.

And when I become a mom someday, Lord willing, this is the single thing that I will fight to hold on to. That my child is not my own, but God's. And in order to love them they way they deserve to be loved, means giving them back to God.

I am so very grateful for my mom. And I am so very proud of us. I am proud of us for always being open with each other and having such a solid relationship. I am proud of us for working through hard situations and extending forgiveness and grace. And I am proud of us for letting each other go. For as hard as it was for her, it was just as hard for me. This scared, attached little girl has branched out to a world of unknowns. And while it is my love for the Lord that drives me, it is her support and life-long training that sustains me.

Proverbs 31:28-29

Her children rise up and call her blessed;

her husband also, and he praises her;

"Many women have done excellently,

but you surpass them all"

So here's to you, Momma, for you truly do surpass them all.

culture shock.

I have been crucified with Christ.

It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who now lives within me.

The life I live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God.

Because the Son of God loved me.

And He gave Himself for me.

They say culture shock is supposed to be hitting around this time. The honeymoon stage should be coming to a close and the daily nuances of living in another culture ought to be settling in. All of a sudden, the people, the food, the language are no longer fun and entertaining. They're draining.

We were warned about this stage. We knew it would eventually happen and we were prepared to handle it and "ride it out". However, the culture shock still has taken me by surprise. Not because I wasn't ready for it, but because it showed its face in an unexpected way.

You see, I am still loving the people. The politeness, gentleness, friendliness, and helpfulness of the Thais is something I hope to never take for granted. It's something I hope to learn from.

I still love the food. The fact that we can get a delicious meal for only $1 still amazes me. Besides the coagulated blood soup and fried insects, Thailand has some of the best food in the world.

And believe it or not, I am still loving the language. Even though the word "mai" means mile, new, no, right, and silk. Yes, it can be frustrating at times, but I am still enjoying the process and the challenge.

No, it's not the people, the food or the language that is causing this culture shock.

It's the location.

I miss home.

It's a weird feeling, really. To be so content and at peace in one place, yet still be longing to be in another. Since leaving home, a lot of big things have happened. Friends have gotten engaged, family members are moving, weddings are being celebrated, loved ones are having babies. Life is continuing on. And we're not a part of it.

I hate that.

And somewhere in the midst of this unexpected culture shock, my heart has grown bitter. At random times throughout the day, I have found myself thinking thoughts like...

Why do some people get to live in the same town as their entire family and I don't?

Why do some people get to have coffee with their best friends every week and I can't?

Why do all our friends get to start their families now and we need to wait?

Why are some never drawn to serve God overseas and we are?

It doesn't seem fair, God...

Without even realizing it, I have found myself wishing for someone else's life. Someone else's circumstances. Someone else's calling. In other words, I caught myself thinking our time here was a curse rather than a blessing. I started measuring my life based on earthly treasures rather than heavenly ones. I was falling in love with my own plans again rather than being hopelessly devoted to God's.

Maybe God's plan wasn't worth my everything. Maybe I could please God and my flesh at the same time. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to be crucified with Christ.

But here I am. On Good Friday. Pondering what this day really means. Pondering the crucifixion of Christ and its eternal weight. Pondering the fact that my sinful soul is counted free because the sinless Savior died. Pondering the unmatched call and will of Jesus Christ and wondering if He ever told God that "this doesn't seem fair".

Somehow I don't think He did.

Despite His pain and suffering on this day, somehow I don't think He was whining to God like I have been. I think He knew the will of His Father and saw it not as a curse, but as a gift.

The gift to do what God had purposed for Him and to do it with faith and obedience. The gift to be used by God for the sake of others.

The gift to offer Himself as a living, perfect, and holy sacrifice.

Jesus' life and death and resurrection. What a gift.

Our life, our death to flesh, our resurrection for the glory of God. It's a gift, too.

So on this day, I am challenging myself to shock myself out of this culture shock. To stop believing that this far away journey is a curse and, instead, embrace it as a sweet and gracious gift.

...For I have been crucified with Christ.

It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who now lives within me.

The life I live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God.

Because the Son of God loved me.

And He gave Himself for me.

I've never really been into art...

...but I couldn't help but notice this little shop on the side of the road.

Steven and I were walking the streets of "Ban Twai" one afternoon. It's one of our favorite places in Chiang Mai. It's an area outside of town that the Queen originally set up for the village people of Thailand. The purpose was to give them a populated place to display and sell their original and unique handicrafts.

It's so fun.

Steven and I have already been there 3 times--going from store to store looking at antiques, intricate woodwork, handicrafts, ceramic tableware, clothes, etc. You name it, Ban Twai probably has it. And if they don't, they'll make it for you. (Steven and I brought in a picture of a desk and credenza that we really liked to one of the woodwork shops and they are custom making it for us! Pics to come...) Who needs Pottery Barn when you have Ban Twai?

So as we were perusing one Saturday afternoon, my eye was caught by this little art shop. Sidenote: I have been wanting to get something to make our house a little more "homey" since we moved in. All of the decorations and furniture were already provided (praise God!), but I was itching at the chance to put pick out something for our house that was "us". Call me high maintenance, but nesting has become a big deal to me. I think it helps me feel settled and at peace. Don't get me wrong, I love our house. But now I just want it to be home.

And so, we started looking at this woman's paintings. They were beautiful. Abstract, full of color, life and a story. I was getting really excited.

A couple of years ago when we were in our couples Bible Study in Chicago, we challenged each other to come up with a mission statement and vision for our marriages. As we shared them with each other over the following weeks, one of the couples had a great idea. They thought it would be cool to narrow down our mission statements to just one word and then have it displayed somewhere in our houses. It would be a simple reminder of the purpose and vision for our marriages, while also being an interesting and fun conversation piece.

I loved the idea.

And as I walked around this little art shop in Ban Twai, I was reminded of it. Wouldn't it be cool to have this woman paint a picture for our house with our mission statement somehow in it?

I was sold.

A couple days later, the woman was at our house with her little boy, helping us come up with the colors and design of our painting. It, again, was such a gift to see God continue to bless us here. Not only with a great house and something special to make it home, but also with this unique opportunity to make a new friend.

And so, here it is. Our proud display of the mission statement of our marriage.

Hesed in art.

The hesed of God means the saving from enemies and troubles; the redemption from sin; the keeping of His covenants; a passionate and relentless love.

The hesed of man means kindness towards others, servanthood; lovingkindness extended to the lowly, needy and miserable; mercy and grace.

What a beautiful reminder of God's hesed towards us and our call to be hesed to the world around us. We pray this artwork will be the beginning of many conversations of the unfathomable hesed that many do not yet know.

¹ Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good.
His hesed endures forever.
² Give thanks to the God of gods.
His hesed endures forever.
³ Give thanks to the Lord of lords:
His hesed endures forever.

⁴ to him who alone does great wonders,
His hesed endures forever.
⁵ who by his understanding made the heavens,
His hesed endures forever.
⁶ who spread out the earth upon the waters,
His hesed endures forever.
⁷ who made the great lights—
His hesed endures forever.
⁸ the sun to govern the day,
His hesed endures forever.
⁹ the moon and stars to govern the night;
His hesed endures forever.

¹⁰ to him who struck down the firstborn of Egypt
His hesed endures forever.
¹¹ and brought Israel out from among them
His hesed endures forever.
¹² with a mighty hand and outstretched arm;
His hesed endures forever.

¹³ to him who divided the Red Sea asunder
His hesed endures forever.
¹⁴ and brought Israel through the midst of it,
His hesed endures forever.
¹⁵ but swept Pharaoh and his army into the Red Sea;
His hesed endures forever.

¹⁶ to him who led his people through the wilderness;
His hesed endures forever.

¹⁷ to him who struck down great kings,
His hesed endures forever.
¹⁸ and killed mighty kings—
His hesed endures forever.
¹⁹ Sihon king of the Amorites
His hesed endures forever.
²⁰ and Og king of Bashan—
His hesed endures forever.
²¹ and gave their land as an inheritance,
His hesed endures forever.
²² an inheritance to his servant Israel.
His hesed endures forever.

²³ He remembered us in our low estate
His hesed endures forever.
²⁴ and freed us from our enemies.
His hesed endures forever.
²⁵ He gives food to every creature.
His hesed endures forever.

²⁶ Give thanks to the God of heaven.
His hesed endures forever.

Psalm 136

March 17th.

I never liked Saint Patrick's Day.

Maybe it's because I'm Asian. I could never fool anyone into thinking I was Irish like the rest of my friends. In elementary school, I remember wondering why there was never a "Samurai Day" where I could wear a "Kiss me, I'm Japanese!" shirt.

In middle school, I didn't liked Saint Patrick's Day because, not only did I not know who the guy even was, but we didn't even get a day off of school for him. I mean, atleast Casimir Pulaski got us a three day weekend...

And even as I grew up, I still didn't like Saint Patrick's Day. In college, while most loved waking up at 8 am to drink green beer and celebrate the day, I found it extremely sad. I remember one Saint Patty's Day, sitting in speech class where a guy gave an entire speech completely wasted. While it was admittedly (somewhat) impressive, it always bothered me how so many people on campus got so ridiculously drunk that day. I just didn't get it.

And even today, the distaste still stands. But not because I can't wear a cool shirt or because I have to watch people drink themselves into oblivion. I don't like Saint Patrick's Day because its careless and naive celebration seems like a total blasphemous and dishonoring act towards the man most people think is a leprechaun.

Let me explain.

A couple of years ago I actually learned who Saint Patrick was. No, he's not a leprechaun who looks for pots of gold at the end of rainbows. And no, he's not even Irish.

Without getting into a huge history lesson, simply put, Saint Patrick was a hero of the faith. An ordinary man, yet a great missionary used by God in big ways. Born in Britain, but captured and sent to Ireland as a young man, Saint Patrick was enslaved for 6 years. He eventually escaped back to Britain where he grew in His faith and love for the Lord. It was there that he felt God calling him back to Ireland--to bring the good news of the Gospel to the very people whom he had fled. And so, he returned to Ireland and began boldly preaching the Gospel. First to the Royal family, then to the masses. Through God, he and his disciples converted thousands and built churches all over the country. Bottom line: Saint Patrick is the missionary credited with converting Ireland to Christianity.

And look at the way we celebrate his life and mission.

It just seems so wrong.

Since learning about Saint Patrick's story, I have often wondered if he's up in heaven hating the way the world has changed his story. I wonder if he identifies with Jesus--knowing that their day of celebration has just become another commercialized holiday. I wonder if he is disgusted by the way he is remembered.

I told Steven tonight how I'd be so sad if people remembered me wrongly. How I want to be remembered as a woman who feared the Lord, a woman who loved Jesus and His calling, a woman who failed every day but felt the grace of God abundantly and honestly. I told him how I would hate to be remembered any differently. For my children, my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren to not know of my deep love and gratitude to my Savior. Or worst yet, for them to celebrate my life by dishonoring or abandoning their God, my God.

And as I was imagining the heartache, I realized that it probably doesn't matter. That Saint Patrick probably isn't mourning his misrepresented life. Because it's not about how people remember me. Or him. And it's not even how people remember God in my life. Or how many people were saved through his.

It's about how God remembers us.

For He is our Audience of one. And if God can remember my love and saving faith through the sacrifice of His Son, then does anything else really matter? My reputation. My accomplishments. My remembrance. Who cares. The only one who needs to truly know me and celebrate me is my Heavenly Father, the eternal God, the righteous Judge.

I bet when Saint Patrick finally met God face to face on that glorious day, receiving a "Well done, my good and faithful servant" was all he cared about. That day, today, and for all eternity, the Lord our God will remember every good and faithful deed carried out by His servant. And well, that's more than enough. That's all there is.

*To read more about St. Patrick, click here.

an unexpected dilemma.

So, here we are.

Finally in Thailand.

Finally on the ground with a real picture of what life will look like. Finally able to smell it, see it, feel it, experience it. Finally able to embrace this place as home. (And before I go any further, I just need to take a moment to praise God for this. For the past year we have been saying to ourselves and everyone else, "We just need to get there." And well, here we are. And my, how blessed we really feel. There's this excitement in the air of finally getting to see the plan unfold and go to work. To soak it all in and dive in head first. And so, we are giving thanks. Raising our hands in praise and saying, "Hallelujah! Thank you, Jesus! We are here!!")

But even with all that being said, I must say that Thailand is nothing like we imagined. At all. (Funny how nothing ever really is...)

And while I'm not exactly sure what we expected, all I know is that this definitely wasn't it. It was probably our arrogant view of missions mixed with our American ethnocentrism, but we came to Thailand expecting to suffer. We left home thinking we were giving up everything, never expecting to get anything in return. And even though people had told us that Thailand was an "easy" place to live, we still had in our minds that we would sleep on dirt floors, never have a warm shower, eat strange and unusual food and feel incredibly lonely and deprived. The funny thing is, not only did we expect to suffer, we actually wanted to. Call us crazy, but to us, that was just the definition of being a "missionary". Call us prideful, but the more we suffered, the more we thought we were doing for God. The more we suffered, the more we mattered. And consequently, the more we suffered, the more people would pray and the more our supporters would keep on giving.

But we have to admit to you, whoever "you" are out there, that the Sauders are not suffering. People were right. Thailand is, in fact, a very easy place to live. We have hot showers. The buildings are air-conditioned and clean. The infrastructure is developed and manageable. The people are friendly and helpful. There are equivalents to Walmart, Whole Foods, Ikea, Macys, Home Depot. The hospitals are good and safe. The houses, beautiful. The weather, perfect.

And while you'd think that all these things would make us thankful, we are actually having a really hard time with it. I guess you could say, the lack of suffering is causing some tension within our hearts.

What an unexpected dilemma.

This tension came to a head when we found and signed the lease for our house...

(See? I told you we weren't suffering.)

To be very honest, posting this picture is also really hard for us. We hate that it's not a grass hut like we imagined. We hate that it could come across that the Sauders have moved to Thailand to "live in extravagance". We hate that it could be seen that we are going about this all wrong--that we know nothing about cross cultural ministry and are hurting our witness by living in this home. We hate that it could be said by many that we are being irresponsible with people's financial sacrifices to us.

We know these concerns. We know some people will not understand this decision. And we know that we may be judged for being missionaries, on support, not suffering for Jesus.

But, we also know our genuine hearts in moving to Thailand, in searching for a home, in serving God. We know that we walked away from the American dream, never even thinking we'd have a home in Thailand. We know that we didn't come here to pursue comfort or our own selfish desires. We know that we have prayed through every big purchase, asking God to give us great wisdom, discernment and peace. And we know that God has answered many of our prayers through the blessing of this house.

We prayed to live in a neighborhood close to our language school and team leaders. Check. We prayed for a place that fit within our budget. Check--our landlords even came down 1/3 of the price to accommodate our financial needs. We prayed for a Thai neighborhood with friendly neighbors to develop relationships with. Check--we've been told that our neighbors are so very excited to meet us and want us to stop by (a blessing in and of itself as Thais are usually very private people). We prayed for a person of peace, for someone that would take us under their wing and embrace us. Check--our landlords are, simply put, amazing. They remind me of my grandparents, which is saying a lot. The landlady, Air, is one of the most hospitable, fun-loving, accommodating, helpful people I've ever met. She told me that I could come to her house every day, that she'd take me to all her favorite markets. She said we'd be great friends and that she'd help me learn Thai. Right after we met them, I just looked at Steven and said, "Could God really be giving me a set of "grandparents" here in Thailand? Does He really love me that much?" Yes, God has been so good to us. We have felt His goodness to us through our landlords.

And so, we know that God has gone before us in finding this house. We are confident that this is where we should live for now, even though we are uncomfortable with what image it could project. This unexpected dilemma has been so good for us to wrestle through. We have been forced to process a lot of our own issues and unbiblical thinking and as a result, have been sanctified and grounded in our one and only identity--Christ followers.

As Christ followers, we are accountable to the Lord and the Lord alone. To buy a nice house for the approval of man is wrong. But, to not rent a nice house for the approval of man is also wrong. For both seek after man and not the Maker.

As Christ followers, we are serving the Lord through all things--whether we live in a grass hut or a nice house.

As Christ followers, we find our worth in the person of Jesus Christ, not in our suffering for Him. "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God-- not by works, so that no one can boast." Maybe God wants us to see that our desire to suffer is an unacceptable sacrifice--for it has been rooted in pride and sinful motives. Maybe He wants us to see that it's not works, no matter how good they may be, that wins His heart. Maybe He wants to crush all our expectations so that we can't boast in anything but Him. Maybe God was seeing that suffering was becoming for our sake, not for His.

As I was talking through this the other day with a friend, he said this to me:

"Thanks for being there. And no less thanks just because you might enjoy it."

Wow. How truthful and freeing that was to hear. So freeing to know that I don't need to be miserable to serve God here. So freeing to know that it's okay to be blessed by God, both spiritually and physically, and to enjoy His gifts to us. So freeing to know that I don't have to feel guilty that Thailand has Starbucks, that it doesn't take away from our ministry or love for the Lord. So freeing to know that I can relax, enjoy these little bits of home that God has given us here, and be unashamed of it.

So, here we are. Finally in Thailand. Dealing with unexpected dilemmas that were never on our horizon before. But feeling free. Free to walk by the Spirit and not by our own pride, our own expectations, or our doubts and fears. Free to show the world how our God has abundantly provided and paved the way. Free to be blessed, to be a blessing.

Promises not made.

Leaving was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

God had given me so much strength and grace leading up to our departure that I thought I was in the clear. The excitement was building, the anticipation was rising, and we couldn't wait to get on that plane. I was golden. This was going to be easy.

And then it happened. Two days before actually leaving, I did a 180. Something in me flipped and all of a sudden I was fearful, doubting and reluctant to leave. Maybe the reality of what we were doing was setting in, maybe it was the really hard goodbyes to my family, maybe it was the evil one trying to attack. Either way, I found myself in a completely different state of mind.

I felt like a total hypocrite.

It was so easy for me to talk about giving up everything for the sake of the Gospel, but when I actually had to do it, I got cold feet. Way to go, me.

I remember sitting on the plane in Chicago, watching us pull away from the gate. Without even realizing it, I said under my breath, no, no, no! Steven must have heard me because he responded with a strong and excited, yes, yes, yes! He was obviously ready. Which left me wondering why I so suddenly wasn't.

We eventually made it out of Chicago and landed safely in San Francisco. However, my state of mind was still the same. I couldn't shake the idea that maybe we had just made the biggest mistake of our lives. I remember thinking that there was still time to turn back. Still time to call off this crazy endeavor. Still time to regain my sense of security and control.

But somehow, God got me on the next flight. And it felt so significant. This was our flight to Japan. The flight that would take me away from America and into a world of unknowns. In other words, this flight meant there was no turning back. We were on our way to Thailand whether I liked it or not. We were going to live our lives in Thailand where I liked it or not. We were going to do ministry in Thailand whether I liked it or not. We would be away from our family and friends for a long time whether I liked it or not.

And before I knew it, this taunting question kept replaying in my mind...

What if I just don't like it?

And with that, a wave of what if questions engulfed me. What if something happens to my grandparents while I'm gone? What if Leila doesn't remember me? What if I lose Steven? What if I have no friends in Thailand? What if I never learn the language? What if this ache in my heart from missing my family never goes away? What if we fail?

Somewhere in the midst of suffocating in my thoughts, I turned to Steven and just started bawling. I told him that I wanted to go back. I told him that we couldn't stay in Thailand, that this was stupid of us. I had changed my mind and wanted a normal life. Who did I think I was, anyway, trying to be a missionary? I should have seen this coming. Steven should have married a different girl--someone stronger and better suited for this hard stuff. I don't know how to quite explain it and I'm sure I sounded ridiculous to Steven, but there was this deep unrest and almost panic within me.

And so, I asked Steven to pray. Not because I really wanted him to or because I was seeking Jesus, but because it was the only thing I could think of that could stop all of it--the voices of doubt and fear that I was starting to believe. I needed the Spirit to calm my emotions and ground me in Truth.

And as Steven prayed, the Spirit did just that. God came over me and reminded me of one simple truth. A truth that I've heard before, done before, blogged about before, judged others on before, prayed against before.

I was clinging to promises not made.

God never promised me this would be easy. So when it's not, I shouldn't be surprised.

God never promised me that my grandparents would live forever. Moreso, I'm not even guaranteed tomorrow.

God never promised me the luxury of having family close by. In fact, He says, "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple" Luke 14:26. I was getting a sobering taste of the seriousness of Jesus' call.

God never promised me Steven for the rest of my life. Steven is a perfect gift from God that He has chosen to bless me with today.

God didn't promise me friends, He didn't promise me the gift of learning language, He didn't promise me success.

These are all promises He has never made me. Yet, I was holding them so near and dear. Ready to abandon God's calling at the thought of losing something I was never entitled to in the first place. Oh, how I continue to struggle with clinging so tightly to something that God has never promised. How often I hold lies as truth and then get mad at God when it doesn't pan out. And goodness, how patient God is with me as He teaches me this lesson over and over again. To recheck where I find my security and claim Him and His promises as the only solid rock on which I stand.

And so, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean I tried to, again, let go of these promises not made. I tried to let my mind, heart, and soul release these dreams I had made up for myself. To repent of putting words in God's mouth and believing them. And then, I tried to embrace and hold fast to the promises He has made me--for they are eternal, hope-giving, and abundantly gracious.

He is with me. Always. He is for me. Always. He is redeeming me. Always. He is near. Always. He is pouring out His love, grace, Spirit, power, presence, wisdom. Always. He is saving. Always. He is more than enough for me. Always. He is in control. Always. He has a plan, a good plan. Always. He is the Alpha and Omega, the One worthy of everything. Always. He is the Giver of eternal life and the Reason I lay down my false hopes. Today, tomorrow and always.