For a long time now I have felt the repercussions of my decision to become a missionary. My time in Pattaya affected every single aspect of my life. I saw horrors my mind could never have imagined. Images that I daily try to forget. I knew in my soul that I had suffered for the Lord in order to meet his people in Thailand. I felt ashamed as I related to those who suffered for the gospel in the Bible. Surely my suffering wasn’t as bad as theirs. They were tortured. They were murdered. I sat and watched. No one hurt me. Therefore I am not one of the greats who sacrificed for God’s glory.
Yesterday while my friend held me as I wept over the horrors I have witnessed, I felt the Father wrap His arms around me. Validating my pain. Acknowledging my sacrifice. Instead of shaming me – He honored me. He honored what I went through on His behalf. He didn’t tell me others have it worse or that He had warned me years ago that it would be difficult. He didn’t dismiss my pain. He told me that He was proud of the sacrifice I made. He told me He trusts my servitude. He held me as I wept because He knows how difficult this call is.
This gentle yet fearsome God is one my mind cannot comprehend or understand. How glorious He is.