The Potter at Work

At the end of February, I went to the Dominican Republic with a group of W&L students. Although this post doesn’t say much about the trip, my latest experience abroad finally motivated me to post a blog I’ve been meaning to write since December. I regret that I have not kept up with this blog since starting school, but I definitely plan to write regularly again this summer when I spend 8 weeks in Argentina and 2 in Peru.

Sitting by the dusty road, I take in the scene around me. To the left stands a tiny shack looking about as sturdy as the cardboard sign in the window offering fresh chicken to souls much braver than I. To the right, a rusty pickup truck appears to be about as old as the street it's parked on. All along the street, tiny houses painted like Easter eggs are nestled amongst the trees, with shabby clothing hanging from their barbed wire fences and colorful flowers framing the yards. Children of all ages fill the streets, walking home from school in their sky blue polos and khaki pants. And as I stand there, gazing at a world so different from my own, I wonder why it feels like home.

Ready to return to the hotel, the motion of standing carries me swiftly to another place, to Passion 2012, where it is not Dominican children who surround me, but thousands of Christian college students gathered to worship God. The memory is crystal clear…

The roar of the crowd crescendos, growing until it’s the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. I want to cover my ears, but it's too beautiful. The cheers honor of hundreds, if not thousands, of students who are standing to accept God’s call to missions overseas. With a grin nearly cracking my cheeks, I imagine that the parties in heaven are kind of like this. I look down at my friends...I look down and realize that I am up. I am standing.

In that moment, I am suddenly certain of that which was always so unclear. Doubts and questions fade away, and I realize that my life is no longer a shapeless lump of clay. God has begun to reveal its form. Although the piece of clay cast on the wheel in 1991 is still a work in progress, the end result is no longer a complete mystery. Whether I like it or not, I can now say for certain, that God is shaping me into a missionary. But it's only the beginning.

I’m no longer in Atlanta at Passion, nor am I in the sunny Dominican. Here at W&L, though, I've realized something crazy. I've learned that for some reason, by God’s design, Country Roads will never really take me home. While Morgantown will always have a piece of my heart, my future home is elsewhere, somewhere near that dusty road in the Dominican Republic or the Mountain School in Peru or the Ranch in Honduras where I first saw what it means to be a missionary.

So basically, I know that I'm being sent somewwhere, I just don't know where yet. I'm just waiting for the next call. It's funny to say that I suddenly know I’m going to be a missionary. But I do. Why did standing up make such a difference? I don't know. But it did. It opened my eyes, and I can now see that, while sitting down is nice and comfortable and easy, the longer you sit, the more reluctant you are to stand. It's worth it, though. I had to obey when God took my hand and said, “Arise,” and now that I’m up, I’m up for good. So “Here I am, send me!”*

*Isaiah 6:8