Bear with me as I am endlessly processing the sweetness the Lord is doing in and amongst me. I can’t seem to catch my breath as I am living this life right now, I have never experienced the Lord is such a real way. He is here. Right now in East Africa He is here, right now in America He is there. He is steady, He is the same, and He is so big. I can’t get over Him and I pray I never will.
I felt like I could breathe again. In Community 1, I felt like I could truly breathe in the goodness of God. Without distraction, without anxiety, without guilt, without fear, I breathed in the sweetness of God. I visited the same community as a little girl with my dad, who now dwells with the Lord in Heaven. Walking into such a special and familiar place without my special and familiar dad was walking into unknown territory, but the Lord completely covered me in blankets and blankets of joy. And I shouldn’t be surprised, because that is just what our God does, He turns mourning into dancing and ashes into beauty. Gosh, praise God.
I don’t know what captures my heart about this sweet place.
Maybe it’s the endless running around in the African dirt. The spinning of cutie babies around and around and around. The real community full of raw wisdom. The washing of dishes. The deep conversations. The making of chai. The consumption of chai. The singing, the constant singing. All of the tears. The pit latrines. The bumpy, dirt roads. Everything else in between. It’s all of that sweetness, but more than that it’s Jesus.
Jesus is all over this place.
I don’t at all deserve to be here, but He is faithful and really good at loving His children. I love it here. The sweet, red dirt caked my feet, I smelled like a middle schooler, and my hair looked like a lion, but this is my place, and it is just at those stinky, dirty, not-so-glamourous moments that the Lord just whispers, “I love you Lakeland, this is what you were made for.” In the midst of my mess, man is God glorified. Because He can, and I can’t. It’s crazy how evident that is when you have nothing left but a dirty skirt and a smelly t-shirt. He can, I can’t.
And to quote my sweet friend Natalie, “Anywhere we are on earth, whether America or Africa, we will always just be pitching our tents until we get to our Home.” Amen. Gosh, I pray that whether you are living in a literal tent in East Africa or in a house in Cumming, Georgia or a dorm room in Athens, find joy in knowing that these are just the temporary tents that we dwell in for this short little time before eternity in the arms of the Father.
-Lakeland Jackson | Journey 2016 Intern