re-entry

(Written on Sunday, June 26, 2016)

 I’m sitting on the front steps of Trinity College and Seminary. Across the street the church bells are ringing in the beginning of today’s service. Permanently tanned people in white shirts file in the building, greeting each other in their native tongue. The mountains surround the scenery and colors of bright flowers line the pathway.

God really outdid Himself in Sielmat village.

It was a thought that had flooded my brain since I stumbled out of the bus on June 9^th.

I have sat in this exact place countless times. On many occasions I have been enamored by the flawless design that is Manipur, India. I have watched the people with black hair gather and sing in Hmar on a weekly basis.

Except they aren’t just people anymore

They are friends. They do not all just have the same underlying physical characteristic: dark skin and dark hair. They are individuals. They are names, faces, and stories that are forever engraved on my heart, whether they know it or not. And this isn’t just scenery—it’s my village and home to my newest family members. This isn’t just a seminary, it’s the school of my friends who are learning and growing and striving to be more like the Father.

As I am writing this on a characteristically hot Sunday morning, the pastor of the nearby church muffled by distance, I can feel my heart breaking.

Uh oh. This one is going to hurt.

Re-entry is never easy, especially when you do not want to leave. How do you return to the same place you’ve always lived and the same people you’ve always grown up with as a different person? How do you return home when you just feel like you’re leaving it?

Sometimes honesty is painful, so bear with me as I am completely vulnerable to all of you.

I knew I was called to the unreached, and that is a burden that is still heavy on my heart. Then I knew I was called to India, which totally makes sense because so many of the unreached people know India as home.

And then I got here.

I met (no exaggeration) the best people I have ever known, people that are hungry for the Lord and seek after His heart.

This trip has been less about making known the name of Jesus to those who are devoted to other religions and more about the second verse of the Great Commission: “teaching them to observe all I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20) This is about calling them deeper into the Love that has chosen them, discipling, and teaching them to be dangerous to the kingdom of darkness.

I am still asking God why He wanted me here, not that I am not grateful, I am. I love it here. (Seriously. Hmar by choice.) But I wanted to see God heal someone instantaneously. I wanted to see Him perform a miracle through my team (still have 5 days, still believing it can happen). So far, unfortunately, He hasn’t.

God has taught me many things, and I am still learning and unpacking all He has taught me, but I feel like He always teaches me in small ways. It seems as if His faithfulness is never proved through miracles or extremely frequent encounters with the gifts of the Holy Spirit in my life, but through smaller steps:

Like falling in love with a small village in northeast India

or connecting so strongly with the people of this tribe

or seeing an 8 year old little boy scrunch his nose and hold out his hands and repeat the prayer to be filled with God’s love and mean it wholeheartedly.

I thought these things were little, but God reminded me that we don’t share the same scale.

Things that are small to you are eternal to Me and My plan, daughter.

Yes, Lord.

Use me then. Use me for the small things. Help me be faithful with the little steps.

For a few days this week I was really struggling with comparison. I wanted so badly to be used in what I thought was a big way. My teammates Kristen and Kirstin (yeah, it’s absolutely as confusing as it sounds) reminded me of Elijah, who was a devoted servant of the Lord. In 1 Kings 19 the Lord speaks to Elijah. The story goes that Elijah was standing on a mountain because God had told him to go there. God sent forceful winds that literally broke pieces of the mountains, but the Lord was not in the wind. Then He sent an earthquake, but He was not in the earthquake. Then He sent a fire. As you could probably guess, the Lord was not in the fire. After the phenomenon passed, Elijah heard a whisper. God spoke in the whisper.

Sometimes God does miraculous things and it is amazing, but sometimes He comes in a quiet voice. Whether it was an earthquake or a whisper, God revealed Himself to Elijah.

God, I am sorry that I have been making an earthquake more important than a whisper.

I was not called to India to know exactly what the Father was up to the whole time. I was called to love the people I am living amongst—

to disciple other believers—

to bring Heaven to Earth—

and to wait for His whisper.

And I will. Because maybe little things aren’t little and maybe whispers are eternal.

As I re-enter into my life in Alabama, I will hold the memories of India in my heart forever. But mostly—I will take what I’ve learned from the place and people that I dearly love, and I will bring Heaven to Earth.

It is my job as a citizen of Heaven to make “Heaven on Earth” everywhere I go. My mission is to be a light, to be submerged in the scandal of grace, to not resist mercy but to wade in it.

We are called, brothers and sisters, to bring the glory of Heaven wherever we go, even if that means being consistent in the little things.

“Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done

On Earth as it is in Heaven.”

Sons and daughters of the King—we are going from glory to glory.

Yes and amen,

Emma Ruth