God Knows Best

About two weeks ago, my team was informed that we would be packing up, splitting in two, and leaving our new home. Just when we had gotten settled, the plans were shifting.

I found out that my little half-team would be leaving the island of Ometepe and heading back to the mainland of Nicaragua to go to a town called Rivas. We would be spending the week at the house of a local pastor, a woman named Sarah who also works at Cicrin.

Not going to lie, I was a little worried about how nine girls would be fitting into a house that is normally home to one, but when we got there all my fears were relieved. Turns out, we had the luxury of having the house much to ourselves, a gate and fence for security (along with our lovely watchdog, Lova), and a personal chef. Oh, and we got pancakes and cereal. Twice.

This week was full of ministry at Sarah’s church, which we quickly discovered was run out of the house of one of its members in a little neighborhood where most of our landmarks were animals. We were thrilled to see that we would be joined at church by a brand new litter of puppies, who were close to being my favorite members of the congregation, second only to the cutest children on the mainland. I’m convinced they had to audition to attend the church, they were that good.

We spent three days attending services at the little church, and then the reigns were thrown to us: we were to run an entire service from beginning to end.

The day of our challenge arrived, and you could clearly see the nervousness of each person in the group. All anyone wanted to do all morning was practice. We practiced singing, we practiced praying, we practiced reading in Spanish and acting the passage out; all things we have done before but somehow seemed foreign. Maybe it was the foreign country, I don’t know. But finally, no more practicing could be done and we had to set out for church, still feeling woefully under prepared.

According to standard operating procedure, worship comes first, which meant I was up to bat. Luckily for me, I’d done that kind of thing before and had even sung for the congregation earlier in the week, which took some of the pressure off. What heaped loads of pressure back on was the fact that I was singing in Spanish for the first time. But God provided and I made it through. One quick, translated prayer and it was time for a testimony. I could resume my spot on the bench.

We made it through the whole lineup and back to me looking to hit a homerun in the final inning: the sermon. This was something new for me. By this point in my life I’ve gotten pretty comfortable with people hearing me sing. But when the words are already laid out for me by someone with a few hits under his belt (ahem, Chris Tomlin), I’m a lot less liable to stick a foot or two in my mouth.

But once again, God provided where I was weak and gave me the words I needed. Better yet, He gave me words my translator knew and could recite back to the congregation, so I’m betting He gave me the words they needed as well.

I love the way God does that. Just when you think He couldn’t possibly fit everything together any better, He goes and does it. Take the sermon I delivered, for example:

In the beginning of 1 Kings 19, Jezebel threatens the life of one of God’s prophets, Elijah. Now, Jezebel is a pretty nasty woman, so Elijah is understandably distraught and decides to go out into the desert so he can die on his own. He cries out to God saying, “I have had enough, Lord. Take my life,” and then lies down to die. Just then, God sends an angel with food and water to wake Elijah up and make him eat. Elijah does so, then returns to his chosen grave. Again, God sends an angel with food and water. The angel rouses Elijah and again tells him to eat and gain strength, “for the journey is too much for [him]” (v. 7).

What struck me about this passage (and what made me want to talk about it), was that last part: the angel telling Elijah that what God had for him was too much for what Elijah had to offer. You see, God knew Elijah didn’t have everything it would take for His plan even before Elijah was made, and yet God made him anyway. More than that, God still chose to use him.

After Elijah eats and drinks the second time, he gets up and walks forty days and nights all the way to Horeb, the mountain of God. A man who was literally just on his deathbed walked forty days and nights straight. He wasn’t given a RedBull, new Nike’s, or even a good pep-talk; what he was given was God.

It can be easy for us to think that we aren’t good enough for God or His plans, because the truth of the matter is we really aren’t. We aren’t strong enough, smart enough, funny enough, composed enough, bold enough . . . whatever enough for the things God calls us to do. Fortunately, we serve a God who is and who is willing to share.

God knew long before I was called to give a sermon, before I knew I was coming to Nicaragua, before I was even born that I wouldn’t have what it takes on my own to speak to people and tell them what they need to hear. He knew my tendency to talk before I think or to joke my way out of serious situations, but He didn’t write me out of His plans. Instead, He gave me what I needed, just like He gave Elijah in the desert.

Want to know something else that’s pretty cool? I didn’t even know how much the sermon spoke to me until about halfway down the page you just read. But God did. He directed my words then and He’s directing them now. And if He can do all that with just my words, I can’t wait to see what He can do with my whole life.