So, I moved out of my dorm on Friday, May 20. Then Mike drove me over to Claire's house where I spent Friday and Saturday nights before her parents and sister, Kate, drove us both to the airport on Sunday morning. I had to say goodbye to Mike Saturday morning. I was sad as he pulled out of the Decker's driveway, knowing I wouldn't be able to see him or talk to him hardly at all for two weeks, and that we wouldn't get to see each other very much in the summer months. We had spent almost every day together for the last 4 months and now we were going to be apart. I went back in their house and journaled my feelings about the trip, explaining what I told you in yesterday's blog.
That night, I went with Claire to her college worship service, Connect. She had been telling me about it for a couple weeks, and she told me I could go with her Saturday night since I would be at her house. She said they would pray over us there, and pray for the trip. Sounded good to me. I wanted all the prayer I could get. We got there, and I met a lot of people. They were all super nice, and super friendly, and they all swarmed Claire chattering about the trip, asking her questions. She was ecstatic to go and was talking happily back to them. I was sitting there quietly, trying to be pleasant and polite. Claire would introduce me to people and explain that I was going on the trip too. They would smile and shake my hand and act interested. They were all very nice and gracious. But have you ever been a stepchild at your stepparent's family reunion the first year after your parent remarries? I haven't. But I imagine this is kind of what being at Claire's college group felt like to me. Everyone was trying to get to know the new girl, and care. They were trying desperately.But, admittedly, I felt a little out of place, and perhaps a little sad. I wished I could be at MY church the night before I left. I wish MY church family could surround me, and pray for me, and talk to me about the trip. I wish I could spend the night at MY house, and that MY parents could see me off at the airport. But given the close proximity of the end of the semester to the trip, it couldn't be so. The fellowship before the service ended and the worship portion of the service began. I had never heard any of the songs they played. I tried to read the words and soak in the message, but my mind wandered since I couldn't sing along. I let my gaze sweep the room, and land on unfamiliar faces, and the backs of unfamiliar heads. I watched as unfamiliar hands raised to worship what was beginning to seem to me an unfamiliar God. I say unfamiliar because I hadn't felt his presence in my life for weeks now. Okay, so, maybe if we're honest, it was more like months. I would stand in chapel, and try to feel something. Occasionally, I would catch a wave of emotion connecting with a guitar riff, or a string of lyrics, a beautiful piano melody or a powerful drum beat. Sometimes when we took communion, I would try to reflect on the sacrifice of Jesus, and the seriousness of it. I would try to imagine what he looked like on the day he died, on the cross. I would try to feel emotion over it. Try, and, so many times, fail. This of course, troubled me. Why couldn't I feel anything about the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior? Its like I couldn't even grasp what he did on the cross. It didn't even seem real anymore. It seemed like a story that I had been hearing for 19 years. I knew I needed to understand more about Jesus, and what He did for me.Not understand in my mind, but in my heart. Of course, I knew it wasn't "just a story". His death and resurrection and love for all of us is so real, and so personal. But I wasn't getting it anymore, and I knew I wasn't. Everything God-related felt numb. Maybe not totally numb, but the kind of numb you feel when you lose circulation in one of your limbs after sitting a certain way for a long time. Your limb feels heavy, and when you touch it, you're not really feeling anything like the normal sensation, but instead just dull tingling all over. That's the only way you know the limb is still attached. Dull tingling. So this is kind of how I felt when God things would come up. Not like a sensation I normally feel--love, adoration, warmth and calm assurance that He is there with me, but just a dull realization that He was still with me, and a dull awareness of His presence. Every passion I have felt before was dulled and just barely tingling enough that I knew I was still a Christian. This is how I have felt for months, and not the first time I felt that way. I wrote an entire poem about it over a year ago when I felt the same way. It read it to the church not too long ago. But I was getting tired of feeling like God was not there, like every time I prayed He was not really hearing me, and that He wasn't really working in my life. Now, here I was, in the college service watching these strangers around me praising Him, and obviously feeling something. But I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. I think if you had stabbed me with a knife I would have had trouble squeezing out a tear. Here I was, about to leave for a mission trip in Africa, at a church service surrounded by people full of the love of God, and I was lifeless. I hated feeling that way. I remembered my question to Joe a month earlier, "I'm afraid my own heart is not prepared." I had tried to get my heart ready. With as much prayer as I could muster. I should have been praying every single day about at least one aspect of the trip. I prayed a few times fervently, but not nearly enough. I just couldn't get up the willpower to sit down with God and have a serious conversation about Swaziland. The most serious prayers I had about it were a couple of times when Mike and I prayed together about the trip. I think part of it was the fear. Instead of taking my fears about the trip to God and giving them to him, I was ashamed. I kept thinking that maybe I wasn't supposed to be going on the trip, so God was unhappy with me. Maybe I disobeyed him. Maybe going on the trip was all me, all what I wanted. This shame kept me from praying like I should have. Whether I had done enough to prepare my heart or not, here I was, the night before at church, and my heart did not feel prepared. I just wanted out of that service. Away from all these people that were feeling God when I couldn't. It was a while before we got away though. It seemed like an eternity to me.
Finally Claire and I were back in the dark quiet of her car. A song came on, one of my new favorites that she had introduced to me the night before. It was such a beautiful, powerful song, and I will address it separately in another entry when I get to it. So the song came on and I did begin to feel a little emotional. That song was the one thing that made me emotional, and made me realize I do still have a heart for God deep in me somewhere. That's all for another time, though. It came on, and I said what I felt deeply in my heart, "I think we need to pray together". This was the only thing I knew to do is just try to reach God and beg him to reveal himself to me, and beg him to tug at my heart, to beg him to please come on this trip. So Claire said, "I think we should pray right now with this beautiful song playing in the background". So that's what we did. She prayed out loud, then I prayed out loud. I felt a little better, but I was still frustrated with myself and God. On the way home, we had a pretty good talk just about life and love. I always enjoy talking to Claire. Tonight, though, I needed to talk to Mike about what was going on in my heart. I needed to share it with someone, and he is the person that knows the most about the distance I have been feeling from God, and the ups and downs of my relationship with God. So, after greeting Claire's parents I went upstairs to her room and called him up. I let out my frustrations to him, explaining how I felt nothing at the service, and how everyone around me looked so in-tune with God, and about how Claire was so excited about the trip, but that I was feeling so doubtful and unsure. Man I admired Claire so much. She is so full of love, and so peaceful, and joyful. Her heart was so thankful to go on the trip. Why couldn't I be on fire for God like that? Goodness, why couldn't I be on fire for God hardly at all? I started crying about everything. It had been a while since I really cried. It felt kind of good to be able to cry, and it felt good to know that the voice at the other end of the phone cared and wanted to make everything better. Best of all, though, was knowing that the voice at the other end of the phone was connected to a heart that loves God and would pray for me. I was able to feel more peaceful after Mike and I talked. I managed to fall asleep that night and sleep all through the night.
Okay, so here comes my first journal of the trip. These journals aren't eloquently written. They are, after all, just personal notes I made. I am going to be copying the next several blogs straight out of my journal as much word for word as possible. So here we go. This is the part of the trip, by the way, that is like a roller coaster. You know, the part where you are sitting in the seat and you are buckled in, and the attendant working the ride checks your safety bar. Sure enough, its locked in place and you're not going anywhere. You have been waiting for this ride for a very long time and now there's no turning back. You're in for wherever it takes you. Your stomach is full of butterflies, you feel like you could pee a river, and your palms are so sweaty they are slipping off the bar that you are trying to grasp so tightly. Here we go!
May 23, 2011
I am coming to the end of my 20 hr. flight from Washington, D.C. to Johannesburg, South Africa. Its hard to believe we are almost there. The scenery from the plane is already ridiculously different than in the states. Instead of busy roads with cars travelling along as if ants, and tiny specs representing houses, I now see land. Lots and lots of land, and tiny, winding little dirt roads. There are a few clusters of what appear to be residential areas, but mostly just land. The clouds look different here (of course that is probably weather-related). Anyway, the skies look clear with only a strip of clouds floating against the horizon. On the flight from Columbus to D.C. the clouds covered the sky, all kinds of white, fluffy clouds. Once on our way from D.C. the air below us just looked like a sea of clouds. I can't believe we are almost here. It's been a long flight, but I've done a whole lot of sleeping. I am anxiously awaiting what this day, what this trip, will bring. I have no idea what God has in store for the next two weeks. I will be writing in this journal whenever I get the chance. I'm sure I will have updates at the end of each day.
*Until Then,
Holly Peffer
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