Deserts and Daily Bread

I LOVE worshipping with my American church family, Bay Area Community Church in League City, Texas. Singing familiar songs, in a familiar language, with familiar faces. Mmmhmmm.

The words felt different this past Sunday, though. Instead of giddy, giggling, overflowing worship in the back with my friends, I found a corner and felt it so differently.

As I held my arms up and sang, "I will follow you..." I didn't feel bowed up, like a soldier in armor going to battle. I didn't feel a surge of powerful jubilation or enthusiasm in following my God.

I felt a lot more like an Israelite in the desert, somewhere in the smoldering, confusing and undefinable abyss between slavery under the law and the Promised Land. (For all the details, check out Exodus. They start walking at the end of chapter 12.)

You see, the Israelites didn't have a map or a timeline or a planner. They started in Egypt, so you'd think they would have been accustomed to "African time", but we're talking 40 years of hiking through a desert to a place we've never known and having no tangible proof of its existence.

If you've never heard the story, brace yourself. Not only were they following an insecure, stuttering guy with a recent identity crisis, but their guide was a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night (not kidding, see Exodus 13:17-22). When the cloud moved, they moved. When it stopped they stopped. Every day they woke up to morning shower of just enough food for that day (Exodus 16-17:7).

Tomorrow would bring what tomorrow would bring - new food and cloud chasing.

When they said, "I will follow you..." from that desert, I bet it felt different too.

Hard to swallow. Uncomfortable. Sometimes even angry.

I get that it's a beautiful image and makes for great Sunday School crafts. The very best of Lifetime movie marathons couldn't come close to the power and emotion in this story.

But when you actually live in that desert...
When you're following a cloud zig-zagging between the place that was hard to live in but at least made sense and the place you were created for but you've never known...
When you wake up each morning hoping for your daily bread...
When that tent starts to feel small and your feet have blisters....

"I will follow you..." feels different.

As different as it felt this Sunday, I think I meant it more than ever. Not because I'm oozing with extra holiness or because I just got my halo shined. (Trust me, I'm experiencing more excess in queso than holiness... and I don't think they even make halos in my size.)

I meant it more than ever because I have no other choice.

I have no idea what I'm doing.
I have no idea what life is going to look like when I get back to Africa on February 9th.
I have no idea where Lifa is or what God has planned for us. Or how to do that.
I have no idea how to be a visitor to my home country and go home to a foreign country.
I have no idea where my daily bread is going to come from.

But there is a lot to be confident about in this faith based on what we can't see. There are promises, miracles, provision and the very thickness of His Presence.

And then there's my story. 
Undeserved grace flowing through immeasurable depth in relationships. 
A front row seat to the unveiling of God's glory in families all around the world and coming back for Christmas with the families who taught it all to me, sent me off, and then welcomed me home with even more love than before. 
People joining in a movement together as a body and as a family. 

So, Jesus, "I will follow you..."
You write stories so much better than I do.

And to you, my Home people, reading this and knowing me in this journey...
Will you pray for me? He didn't send one Israelite on the journey. He sent the whole family. He didn't even make Moses lead alone. His brother came alongside him.

As we sing together, "I will follow you..." will you pray for what that is supposed to look like on the rest of my Stateside journey? I have one month to follow Him through America, sharing stories and getting prepared for the upcoming year in Africa. I'm asking you to share stories with me and pray for a support team, or a family, to step up and help me financially on this journey. I have no idea how to do this and need your prayers.

And I'm praying with you that you find the parts in your daily life that feel different because you really mean them. Where in your journey do you FEEL it when you say, "I will follow you..." We are all called to be on this journey. We were all designed for the ultimate Promised Land. We're gonna have an awesome party when we get there!

In the meantime, pray for me and I'll pray for you. We'll follow him together. Our deserts and daily bread  probably look different. But let's keep looking for the Promised Land.