Six days from now, I will fly out of the gray everyday-ness of a snowy February and take a flying leap back - and forward - into the mountains of Ecuador. My friends Chris & Gretchen have immersed themselves in a small mountain community, partnering with and living alongside a church there, and I have the privilege of joining them for a week.
Only God knew - when He plucked me out of everything familiar and set me down in the midst of a foreign culture, people, and land - that 10 years later, He would send me back. Back to visit that place where my perspective shifted up in lasting ways. And forward, into what seems inexplicably like a new season of life, though its borders remain fuzzy & uncertain.
When I went to Ecuador the first time, I had no real knowledge of how my trip fit into God's overarching plan for my life. Or whether it made any significant ripple in His grand plan for the world. This time around, my foresight isn't much greater. I just know that I have friends there who are doing their best to be obedient to God's call, even though it doesn't make much sense sometimes. I am hoping that I can catch some of that courage, some of that reckless abandon, and even that respectful disregard for people's opinions that comes with choosing God's way over man's. And I feel, though I can't exactly explain why, that some new breath of Life is waiting.
Taking risks isn't exactly a pattern for me. I think that's why, when I do scrounge up the courage to take one, it makes such a lasting impact. So here I go ... my first solo international flight, into a community a few hundred yards below where witch doctors make their sacrifices, coming face to face with the darkness within and without ... all in the hope of discovering the overwhelming Light breaking into both places.
At the moment, I am feeling very unprepared for this new adventure, both practially and spiritually. The momentum of the semester has left little free time & energy for planning, packing, or praying. Physical & emotional exhaustion has settled over me like a cloud, but that stubborn spark of hope refuses to be smothered.
For some unaccountable reason of His own, God has gifted me with Life, and Light, and Love. And these are what I carry with me - before me, behind me, within me. I'm not sure how they'll show up in this all-but-forgotten mountain village on the underside of the world, but I'm going in with eyes wide open, ready to see how they'll appear, how they'll bless the precious ones I'll meet, how they'll be strengthened and enriched for the return trip. And for the Life beyond ...
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