“Do great works wherever you are. But also, do not be afraid to go (and do not be afraid to stay.)” –Jennie Allen

It’s true. I have always struggled with staying put and being content. I’ve lived in 4 cities as an adult. Even in those cities, I’ve lived in various apartments and houses with multiple combinations of roommates. I’ve traveled all over the United States, United Kingdom, Caribbean, and Central America. I make friends and acquaintances easily in new environments. I am a self-admitted chameleon, ready to shift my colors to adapt to my surroundings in an instant to a glaring fault.

This trait has inevitably landed me in lonely places, conforming to the influences around me. I have looked in mirrors and stared, wondering who the stranger was looking back at me. It has made me hesitant to lay down roots anywhere, for fear of wasting my time, keeping my life on the brink of “meaning” without any purpose at all. I have never been content, always restless and weary, looking for the next place to run.

I have begun learning that while this characteristic has brought much exhaustion and heartache, it was placed in me by the Creator for His purpose. I am not to be content here on earth, because it’s not where I belong. I was not formed to be content with ordinary life. Now, don’t get me wrong. Ordinary in this sense is being used to simply describe “without purpose.” Some of the greatest Kingdom work is done inside the home behind closed doors doing seemingly meaningless tasks for no credit on this earth. THAT’S NOT ORDINARY, THAT’S HOLY. But I digress…

I wrestled and fought like hell against moving back home when every piece of my world was literally falling apart and crumbling around me. I had never felt so lost and broken, filled with pain that aches in the deepest spaces of your bones. It was nothing like I have ever experienced. All that little voice inside of me wanted to do was run as fast as I possibly could to anywhere but home. However, home was the only thought that brought peace and rest. Doors opened what seemed like effortlessly to ensure this transition occurred.

In the last 2 years at home, I have learned what it means to be content in any place. I have witnessed what it looks like for every moment of a day-to-day routine to have purpose. I have come to realize that the restless heart within me is truly restless for HOME. I am slowly learning to bloom where I’m planted (and that it in no way means an eternal commitment to that plot of soil thank Jesus.) I am no longer afraid to make commitments to serving or building relationships because I know without a shadow of a doubt that God will use that long after I’m gone from this place. I long for my routine, my normal, my every day ordinary mundane days because when God is present in them, HOLY COW. I have witnessed amazing relationships, moments of joy, presence in pain, miraculous healing simply by saying yes to walking out my front door and being engaged in the life going on around me. By no means do I have all this figured out. I’m simply just beginning. But, oh what a much needed lesson. I’m no longer afraid to stay.

On the other hand, I’ve always had that desire to go. I have learned in the last couple of years that there’s nothing wrong with that…when I’m not running away from anything. In fact, my insatiable desire for travel and adventure is seemingly innate, initiated and manufactured by the God who knows the number of hairs on my head.  For at least 10 years, Africa has absolutely fascinated me: her people, her landscape, her music, her art and culture. Every single aspect of the continent has intrigued my wanderlust. Throughout the years, I have witnessed friends visit her dusty streets and return forever changed, or perhaps choose to stay. At first, I was ready to go in a heartbeat. I remember my junior year of college being ready to drop everything and go. Then, I settled for doing what was safe and acceptable and continued school. That urge has never left although somewhat changed. For several years I told myself that I didn’t need to go to Africa, that I didn’t need to be what I viewed as “hardcore” to spread Jesus’s love. I convinced myself that living life and serving in the US was equally important (which it SO SO is, don’t’ get me wrong) and harder for me, because I wanted to run away. (see above about learning to stay put)

Recently, I was talking with a friend about how the desire in me to visit Africa had grown so strongly recently. I have gone years moved by the sight of African children playing and dancing. I have cried watching and reading stories of illness and disease taking lives. I have lain in my floor with my heart aching for those being trafficked for sex and money. I have been overwhelmed by emotion and brought to tears simply when hearing an African song. I can’t deny the Holy Spirit’s involvement in my fascination with this place. But, I had no idea where to even start.

I have friends who have visited/are from Malawi and sponsor a child there. I have another family I met in college who does work in Tanzania. Even still, others are doing great things in Uganda and Kenya. Where do I even begin to start to make this happen? For months, this was my struggle. Then, last week, sitting at RFC I mentioned wanting to go to Africa. My friend Dean was emailing back and forth with the family we know that has lived and worked in Tanzania for several years. I explained to him what I wanted to do and within a single email, I was working on details to travel to Tanzania to “come and see” life and the work there. A week later and plans are set, airline tickets about to be bought, time off work approved. I am ecstatic, overwhelmed, humbled, and honored.

God places desires in our hearts with purpose. I cannot wait to sit in that beautiful country and learn at the feet of Brett and Christie about life in rural Africa, and what missions and development look like there. I have no idea what this foreshadows for my life, but I feel my questions can’t be answered from here. I know I have to come and see.