This Missionary Life
- On Furlough
Tiredness sets in. My body is fatigued.
Yet I am encouraged. I am compelled to press on and keep my
eyes on the prize.
Many talks, many questions, many friends, many meals, many
miles.
Insightful advice, respectful probing, attentive listening.
Joyous songs of praise, laughter resounding, revolving door
of hello and good-bye.
Feeling unsettled always, longing for the Highest place, but
thankful for here and now.
Wanting to push on, knowing sometimes I need to pull back.
Ever forward, ever upward I strive to gaze.
Numerous international phone calls. Heart breaking with
death and struggle of those left behind. Heart rejoicing with delight as I hear
sound of brothers and family eager for me to return.
Deflation of spirit, momentarily, when those I seek counsel
with beat me down and leave me feeling always the outsider. Turning to others I
go, feeling encouraged by honesty of spirit and truth.
I am one. At times I wish I were many.
At times I seem put together. Often I am fallen apart.
Clinging to God. Sensing he is asking me to be bolder and
freer, to live a life more radical and dependent on him.
A child of this universe, maybe. A child of the King,
always.
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