Following Him

Dear Aunt Alice,

I just got word this week that my application to serve in Zambia has been approved (though I haven't been appointed) and I can't help but think about what it must have been like for you as you prepared to leave for the field.

What was it like to leave behind your family, to say goodbye in Union Station before boarding a train headed to New York, not knowing when you would see your parents, siblings, nieces and nephews again? Did you kiss my grandpa goodbye as he gave you a slobbery childish kiss? (I can't help but think of my two little nephews and try to picture my grandfather looking much like one of them with their big blue eyes and long eyelashes...) Did you have the support of your family as you went on the journey to which your Lord called you?

I've often wondered what your father said to you when you first told him that you were going. Your letters hint of your family worrying that you would encounter barbarians and I'm certain that your family had great reason to fear what you might encounter - the journey to NW Rhodesia alone posed any number of problems from disease to the threat of ship wreck. On top of that, your father seems to have been intently focused on money and materialism (his purchase of a maseoleum for instance) and his career choice (liquor sales) didn't lend itself to the conclusion that he was one who would have supported your calling to serve overseas.

You left behind your opportunity to be a socialite, to enjoy the fortune that your father made for himself and his family, to spoil your nieces and nephews, to enjoy the comforts of 1920's America to serve the Lord in a far off region of the world that certainly must have seemed like the ends of the earth.

As I pray over the possibility of serving in that same region for a mere six months, I can't help but ponder what it must have been to serve there for ten years. It seems that, for me, the act of going is much different than it was for you.

If our Lord grants me this opportunity, I'll leave St. Louis and arrive in Zambia in less than a week (after spending a few days in North Carolina for orientation). When you made the trip from St. Louis to the same location, the trip took well over six weeks by ship alone and that doesn't count the train trip across the US and the travel time once you reached the continent of Africa. Due to advances in modern medicine, I'm able to be vaccinated for many of the diseases that you suffered (one of those being malaria) and because of the colonization of the English government while you were there, I won't even need to learn another language (as you did). Yet, despite the fact that it SHOULD be easier for me to go than it was for you, I still find myself wrestling with our Lord over the matter.

I long to go, to serve Him there, to see what He has done there since you left so many years ago. I long to be able to come back and tell the rest of your story because it really isn't your story - it's His story of faithfulness in and through you. But, at the same time that I long for Him to do these things in and through me, I want to stay where I am "safe," "happy," and "comfortable." I don't want to put my dream of a husband on the altar for now and, from what I can tell, going would mean that that dream must be sacrificed for six more months.

As I pray through all of this, I just can't help but wish that I could sit down with you for a cup of tea, to ask you how God called you to NW Rhodesia, to hear what He did in your heart and how He confirmed His calling through His Word. I know that He is faithful and that He will work all things together so that He will be glorified and I trust Him, knowing that whether I journey to Zambia or stay here at home, His plan will exceed my dreams and knowing Him, drawing near to Him and serving Him will fulfill me far more than anything else.