Redeeming the Desires of the Heart

Saying goodbyes at the airport before hopping on a plane to move to Honduras

My grandmother and I headed to Honduras.

When I was in college, I knew I was going to move to Honduras. I knew from the first time I went to Honduras on a short-term trip. At times, college felt like something I just had to do to honor my parents' wishes and seemed useless in the grand scheme of how I felt like I was going to spend my time on the mission field. Sitting through classes on No Child Left Behind and learning about IEPs when I knew I wasn't going to be teaching in a US classroom was stretching. But those years were some of my favorites. The dream was in motion. I had a finish line and a deadline. This was temporary and was a time of preparation, so really, I could enjoy it. And, so much of that time felt like Christmas every day with God. I was getting to know Him closely, and we were both excited about my life. The lens I had for life (for the most part) was that it was full of hope and purpose, and everything was a preparation for what was to come. I didn't have to get too caught up in the drama of the day-to-day and the demands of classes (though, let's be honest, I definitely did) because I knew where I was headed. I always had something to look forward to. And, all of the time, it felt like God just kept pumping a passion for missions and Honduras through my veins. The underlying heartbeat in the midst of political science class and working as a resident assistant was Honduras. I thrilled when something about Honduras came up in Spanish classes or whenever I could somehow connect assignments to anything related to missions work and Honduras. Anyone who knew me pretty well knew where I was planning to go after college, and it all felt so very very blessed by God. When I did finally buy my one-way plane ticket, though there were still anxieties, I knew God was on my side. I didn't know what life was going to look like, and I definitely didn't have any illusions of grandeur over saving the world. But, I did feel like I had something to offer and that regardless, things were going to be good. (And at this point, if there are any veteran missionaries reading, you're already thinking, "Ahh, yes, that's cute. I remember those days.")

Flash forward to being in my eighth year in Honduras, and looking back on my time here, it has mainly felt like a series of failures and disappointments. I am not really doing what I thought I'd be doing. (But I have had some adventures I never expected!) A couple years ago, I felt like Thomas Edison right about on his 657th attempt at making the light bulb. So many times throughout the last eight years, I've moved forward with a strong sense that God was leading me. And, while over the years I've collected sweet friends and have been sharpened with wisdom, the long-term outcome has almost never been what I wanted. This, I gotta tell you, is a perfectionist's nightmare. But, where humans are involved, there are too many free will variables, and results are elusive. At the end of the day, the heart is confronted with the question, "Do I do what I do out of obedience or out of a desire to see tangible results?" We have only to dig into the faith chapters in Hebrews to understand that God is after our hearts, not our accomplishments. He loves squishing His hands in the clay of our character and feeling the curve of our vessel emerging at the touch of His fingertips as life spins onward. He reminds us gently that life is a story about Himself and not about us. While it may go against our human drives, He is pleased with a human life that consists only of seed planting and no harvest. He knows how it all fits into the timeline and plot of His life story. With that said, I don't think He is against our having accomplishments in life. He is the Author of growth and creation after all. But, while eight years seems like a long time, I can't help but wonder if God hasn't been whittling down my ambitions to get to my motivation, discarding my pride and desire to be successful like a curled wood shaving.

At some point in this process, though, a small weed of suspicion sprouted in my heart, unnoticed by me at first, that I was actually on my own. Before, this was God's adventure, and I was just along for the ride. After a while, it felt like God just dropped me off at the dock with a sack lunch and a "have fun weathering that storm! I guess I might see you on the other side." So, little by little, in my unconscious mind, God wasn't so close to the things I was passionate about, and my life wasn't driven by excitement and heart's desires but by the tired question, "What do you want me to do now, God?" The desire to be obedient was still present, but the joy behind it was reduced to defensive urges at self-preservation.

In the last year and half or so, I've come to a place of accepting the fog and being okay with just taking the next right step peacefully. We'll just test this out and see how it goes. There are plenty of jaded thoughts that swirl, and I don't jump into just anything. But, for the most part, my approach to life has settled into, "Let's just keep growing. Let's pursue healthy community. Let's keep learning. And let's leave the whole concept of results by the wayside." I've still been seeking ways to move toward somewhat buried long-term goals, but it's just felt like pieces of the puzzle haven't appeared yet.

I've been reading How People Grow by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend, and recently a chapter cornered me with a laser pointer and a glaring neon sign that says, "Hey hon, this is you!" They talk about how important it is to see God as a God of grace rather than a God of the law in order to grow. When we see God as God of the law rather than the God of grace, we tend to want to earn His love and just keep Him happy since our assumption is that it's easy to make Him angry. While I have had my seasons like that, I thankfully shifted out of those mindsets for the most part many years ago with the great help of God's personal kindness. But what did capture me guilty as charged is this: We often think of grace as being synonymous with just forgiveness and mercy. But that's only part of the nature of grace. Grace is also reflected in the phrase in Psalm 23: "Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life." In other words, God's favor, that we don't deserve, is actively pursuing us and accompanying us all the time--as in He likes to give us favor. It means He is always on our side and always wanting to help.

For me, it seems a bit like a meter. With the God of the law, we walk on eggshells. Don't even think about bothering Him. Just behave well. With the God of grace that only encompasses forgiveness and mercy for sins, we can see God as interested in salvation but also kind of ambivalent. In that realm, He seems a bit like a busy parent scrolling away on Facebook when His kid comes up and says, "Daddy, will you please help me with my homework? I really could use some help. I don't understand." He stops scrolling, looks up, rolls His eyes, deep sighs, and finally says, "Yeah I guess so," with a beleaguered air. But the God of grace who delights in extending us favor and access to His close presence is the kind of Dad who will take you to the park and push you on the swing. He's the kind of Dad who will ask you to wash the dishes and keep you company talking while you wash. Then you dry the dishes together. He's the kind of Dad who brings home flowers for you just because and will just hold you without a lecture when you've had a bad day. Before I moved to Honduras, that was the Heavenly Father I knew. It was not hard to believe He was on my side. I want to get back to that place now.

In the last two years, I've learned a lot more clearly that ministry isn't about what I do but who I am, that who I am is ministry to others just because of being a child of God and carrying God's presence with me. (And that's true for everyone who follows Jesus regardless of whether you're in missions or not.) But, even with that freedom to be myself becoming clearer, I've still been treating many of my passions and heart's desires as guilty pleasures. They receive the time I can squirrel away from all of the other things. They're the kinds of things I do (like writing on this blog) that I do to maintain my sanity and just enjoy being a person. But, in my mind, they're selfish side hustles separate from "ministry." To be honest, they have felt like the things I'm doing to kill time (albeit productively) before God shows me clearly what ministry is supposed to look like long-term. We're still moving and still serving and still being obedient in loving those around us. But, oftentimes, I've felt like that isn't enough or that we'll never reach the bigger dreams God has placed in my heart from years ago.

Just in this past week, though, I have noticed a pattern reminiscent of my college years, and it feels like the thaw in Narnia breaking the witch's curse. Christmas is coming, baby! (If you don't get the reference, you haven't read The Chronicles of Narnia, The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Take this as your public service announcement to do so!) As mentioned, when in college, God would constantly speak to me through everything. I could find him in my textbooks. He was present in the song playing in the study lounge. I could read Him loud and clear in my professor's lecture on something so seemingly, superficially unrelated to spirituality as chemical bonding or immigration policy. I could feel Him in the air while talking to someone late at night. Communication with Him was not elusive. He just found me everywhere to the point that it felt inescapable. And, the clearest communication came through pattern. I'd see the same principle or word or sentiment in everything, and I knew what God was trying to say about my own life and Himself. That kind of communication hasn't happened for me in a really long time, and I've missed it. But, just this week, it has started happening again. Every book I read proclaims the same message. Conversations with various people are like hidden clues. I see His message mirrored even in ministry through helping Stef. And the message first sneaked into my peripheral vision like this:

I'm sitting in Ladies Bible Study, and we're discussing the book of Micah and this concept of justice versus mercy. Our leader, always looking for personal connection and authenticity, which I love about her, asked us to talk about how Jesus has been our Shepherd, giving specific examples. I didn't say anything, but as I examined my own life mentally, a realization cleared the runway. I can almost imagine two angels elbowing each other saying, "Oh look, guys! She's finally getting it!" I started to get this sense, this almost taboo question of, "What if God hasn't been giving me a clear step in "ministry" because He's redeeming the way we used to relate--through dreams and passions and heart's desires? What if the very things I've considered to be inconsequential guilty pleasures have actually been the puzzle pieces that are missing? What if I have been knocking on the front door feeling like God's so silent and His direction is so distant when He's already been leading me through the back door and into the living room of my own soul?" And just like that, all I could feel was the smile of that same Dad so eager to just have fun together and saying, "Do you see what I did there?"

Rejection is hard. I have carried some desires of my heart for years before I've been willing to release them in any fashion. I have known about talents for years before I've ever let anyone know about them. Some things feel so fragile and so sacred that the idea of letting them free into an untamed world of contaminated humanness is just too much. (Can ya tell I'm an introvert?) And, part of getting to this point of starting to see how God longs to redeem the freedom to dream and also to share those deep aspects of myself has been recognizing the pain of past rejection that set itself up as a road block.

To give an example, I knew since childhood that I liked to sing. But, somewhere along the line, singing got mixed into some traumatic memories, and through association, it became something dark. So, I stopped singing in front of people even as a kid. In high school, this passion for music and singing was redeemed to the point that I knew I loved worship and also liked to sing. I could see a small opening for where maybe someday I'd find the way to let that part of myself go free. But, it was another 13 to 14 years before I ever let that cat out of the bag! In a season of desperately needing a support system, I found community. And, all indications were that this would be a safe place and these would be safe people. So, I decided to take a chance in participating with the worship team. I learned a lot during that season, and in my typical fashion, I threw myself into the experience with great enthusiasm. But, as is the case with us humans, there are misunderstandings. There are unintentional offenses. And there are actions that for one person is just walking out normal but for another are painful or disrespectful. How we handle those clashes speak a lot about our character in terms of how we deal with the other people involved, but how we deal with those feelings internally speaks a lot about how healthy our soul and spirit are. I don't know that mine were that healthy because after exiting the situation with as much grace (and pounding on God's chest in hurt frustration) as I could muster, I couldn't stand to listen to those songs that we sang because they had become beacons of feelings that said, "You risked a deep part of yourself and were used and rejected." In fact, most of music became road blocked for me. In the past, when I was in need of encouragement and feeling God's presence, I'd seek out worship music. But, up until just about this year, music was a drum beat that said, "Rejected. Disrespected. Not valuable," and the melody was, "Who you are as a worshiper will never fit in." I didn't even really want music on in the background but for the longest time could not put my finger on why. When I did finally pick up on my own weirdness, all I could do was bring it to God and say, "This hurts. Can You fix it?"

The areas of our creativity and the places in our hearts and talents that make us feel alive are also a battle ground, but we don't battle against flesh and blood. Those things like writing or singing or even problem solving through engineering or making sense of numbers through accounting aren't just what we do. They're part of who we are. Why do I love to write? Because it helps me make sense of myself and who God is. Why does my husband enjoy business? Because after years of struggling as an ADHD student, he found a niche where he shines and gets to use his wonderful social ability for something that can be helpful to others. It's a mistake to place all of our value or find our identity in what we do, but it's also a mistake to minimize how the things we love to do communicate who we are. In compartmentalizing the things I love to do as guilty pleasures that don't touch "ministry," I was also saying to God and myself that who He made me to be wasn't acceptable. It's a tempting thing to do when outside voices whisper rejections over what we release of ourselves. But, the Artist does not fail. He did miss a brush stroke in who He made us to be.

So, all of this week, all I am seeing and hearing and reading is to pay attention to what makes you feel alive, how you long to share of yourself with the world, and what your passions are. Oftentimes, our heart's desires are actually the very things that God has placed in us as a road map to our purpose. There are times where God will ask us to surrender our dreams, but it's always with an underlying attitude of a close friend and knowing Father who says, "Will you trust me enough to decide to dream together instead of apart? Could you put this dream in My hand for safe keeping and let me give you something else in return?" He isn't demanding though surrender can hurt. He's not a punishing boss looking to invoke suffering. His invitation is one of expansion, dreaming bigger, digging deeper into our motivations and into His heart.

When God is no longer the enemy of our dreams or some force we feel like we're climbing uphill against, He can become our greatest ally. He becomes a doorman opening our entry to great opportunities. He becomes our loudest fan in the stands. And, as was the case for Joseph even as he was still a forgotten nobody in prison, God can be with us, and whatever we do, He can make prosper. (Genesis 39:23)

Ruth didn't decide to be a history-making woman in the lineage of David and Jesus. She just followed her heart's desire to remain close to Naomi. David didn't decide that his ministry would be as a worshiper and as king of all of Israel. He didn't know he would have the reputation as a man after God's own heart. He just followed his heart's desire to play music, sing, and be in God's presence. Even, ironically, Saul who became Paul didn't know he was going to be an apostle and missionary to the nations. He just followed his desire to persecute the followers of Jesus. And even in his blindness (pun intended? yeah, maybe) to the love of the Father and the truth of Jesus, God was able to use his mixed up conviction and heart's desire as an encounter point to lead him to who he really was called to be. So, the conclusion that I can reach from all of this is that a heart's desire can be redeemed even when it starts out erring. A surrendered heart's desire can become a door of opportunity. A pursued heart's desire can become an invitation to a deeper understanding of identity and a knowing of the God of grace as Someone who lavishly favors us not as a vending machine doling out our demands but as a Father who loves to see His child flourish.

Eight years ago, walking to board my plane to move to Honduras.

In what ways are your heart's desires a road map to who you are called to be?

What disappointments and rejections could be impeding you from releasing the beauty of who you really are?