Fear and Trembling (India Journals, June 10)

I'm sitting at my computer amidst a mess of debris from packing. Half filled suitcases behind me, piles of supplies (all of which need very strategic arrangement to fit in said half-filled suitcases) in front of me, and only 48 hours between me and my self-proclaimed "homecoming" across the universe (I'm listening to the song right now in case you were wondering). Alot has changed since the last time I was in New Delhi. I've changed alot. One thing that hasn't changed is the fact that I've been waiting for this moment ever since I stepped off the plane in 2006. There is a part of me that never came back from India.

I have no problem remembering the oppressive heat of the mid-afternoon sun. The constant blaring horns and the chaotic traffic of the city. Playing Cricket with the kids at an orphanage. The pleading, empty eyes of the children and beggars at every stoplight. The breathtaking beauty of the Himalayan foothills in Dehradun. Children I met at Bible camp, whose names and faces have been burned in my memory and I will never forget as long as I live. Why then, am I so afraid? Why do I feel so inexperienced, so unprepared? These questions have kept nagging at me, growing increasingly intense as my departure has drawn nearer. Frustrated, I asked God to reveal this weakness and remove it from me. After several weeks of questioning Him and this constant feeling of inadequacy, God spoke to me. No, He said, I won't remove this feeling from you. Because this is right where I want you. You see, it is only in this place of fear and trembling that I can use you.

So it comes back to control, or, more acurately, my twisted perception of it (an illusion I've created, telling myself I actually have any at all). I thought I'd mastered this incessant desire a year ago. Yet here I am, thinking it's all about how I feel. How I handle things. The way I strategize. How prepared I am. Isn't it amazing that I have little or no fear when I have some sense of control, and yet when I surrender this to God (a pitiful way of putting it really, because He always had it to begin with), I begin to fall apart. Something isn't right with this picture. What should terrify me completely is the thought that I might ever have even the slightest bit of control to begin with. God doesn't need me at my best, because it is only in Him that He sees me at my "best". What He needs is for me to get out of His way so He can use me.

So I have to be comfortable with the uncomfortable. Embrace this place of fear and trembling, realizing that it's on my knees, with my face in the dirt, that God truly uses me. It's a privilege. And so, with this realization, I begin to feel a sense of anticipation, a sense of excitement; awe, rising up in me again. But now it has nothing to do with me. I just can't wait to see what God is going to do. Like that kid from "The Incredibles" we've all come to love, sitting on his tricycle in the driveway, when Mr. Incredible asks him what he's waiting for, replies: "I don't know, something AMAZING, I guess."

"Do great things for God. Expect great things from God."
~William Carey