My heart is broken /  by Michelle Clarkson

The hardest part about my trip to Africa was leaving. The second hardest part was trying to blog about it.

There were countless times I tried to write about what I was experiencing and the ways in which God was moving, but most of the time, I was simply speechless. I don't have words to sum up this summer because it was not of this earth, and it definitely was not of me. I did nothing, it was all Jesus. My words do no justice to how God revealed His glory and love to me, or the ways in which He broke my heart and ripped it out of my chest so that He could give me His instead. There are no words that truly explain what it is like to spend every day holding the most precious children on your lap, and know they all have AIDS. I don't know how to explain what it feels like to love an 11-year-old boy more than you ever thought capable, and then find out that he died the day you left and you cannot be at his funeral. I cannot explain the way I felt when my sweet Thando stood up on his feet for the first time even though the doctors said he was paralyzed. There are no words for what it was like to be surrounded by the most joyful, beautiful people, and be constantly brought to my knees because they have nothing in the world, and yet know how to love Jesus so much more than I do.

I have no words for any part of this summer because it was all Jesus. There are still so many parts of it I am trying to process, and even more I am still trying to surrender to The Lord. One thing I've realized though is that it didn't take that much faith for me to go to Swaziland; I was just listening to God and following Him where I knew He was leading me. What took every ounce of faith and trust I have is being back back in America. Even though I only spent two months in Africa, coming back to this country has been one of the hardest things in my life. Somehow my home isn't my home anymore. I go to the grocery story and suddenly start weeping. I think about the people around me going to Disney World and want to yell. I go to the doctor and break out in hives because I am overwhelmed by the medicine and care we have here. There is not a single part of me that wants to be here and yet I know that just as much as me going to Swazi was part of God's plan, so was the fact that it would only be for the summer. As much as I would give anything to be back in Africa right now, He is not surprised that I am not. And God did not break my heart just so I could love His children when I was on a missions trip in a far away country. He broke it because He was making me like Him. His heart is broken for this world, every part of it. While I do not think that we should be overwhelmed to the point of breaking out in hives at the doctor's office, we should be overwhelmed. We should be weeping. We should be grieving. We should be praying every single day for God's Kingdom to come on this earth as it is in Heaven, because this world is so incredibly broken. How often do we forget what is happening not only around the world, but also in our own country because we are comfortable at home? There are children being beheaded, homes being blown up, innocent people being shot, countries at war, babies being sold... Yes we have hope, and yes Jesus has already won the victory and overcome this world, but He is also a God who weeps, and I am sure at some point, Jesus was overwhelmed. 

In Africa, I learned that God really is enough. I learned that we could have nothing and still have everything we need. I learned what it is like to truly pray without ceasing. I learned to love with all of my strength, might and soul. I learned to let my Abba carry me in His arms and know He was strong enough not to drop me. I learned that He didn't just send me there to be His hands and feet, but because He needed to bring me to my knees. And while I know I will go back, maybe even soon, I know He did not just teach me these things just for Swazi.

Adapting back to life in America is so much harder than I ever imagined, but it not because this isn't where I am supposed to be for now, it is because I am not called to be comfortable. we are called to be different, we are called to stand out, we are called to feel like we do not belong. No place on this earth should feel like home because we were created for heaven, not for New York, or Haiti, or Paris, or even Swaziland. 

God is everywhere /  by Michelle Clarkson

I thought I was going to be bringing God to a country that didn't know who He was, but instead, they showed me who He really is. I thought it would be impossible to see Jesus through the immense poverty and devastating illness, but instead He was all around me, it just took me too long to see it.

He is in the Gogo's that care for every single person around them with unmeasurable kindness. He is in the 12-year-old orphans that carry their younger siblings down the dirt road to get food. He is in Sister Joseph who never thinks about how the children she kisses and hold so close to her are all infected with aids and TB. He is in Lindewee who carries Numvuo's bags because the tumor on her back makes it difficult to walk. He is in Silvie who after being stabbed and having to flee the Congo, and being left by her husband, cares for the sickest children with so much joy and love. He is in the people on the streets who have nothing of their own and cannot walk and yet still exalt His name and smile as we walk by. He is in Bongani who will sit with a bunch of white strangers in the hospital for hours and drive us home at 2 am because he wants to love and serve us, regardless of what it looks like. He is in 14-year-old Nontokozo who has TB and is the care-giver to her dying mom, and yet the first words in every one of her prayers is of how much she loves God. He is in X, whose only desire is for the people of Swaziland to know that they have a God who so desperately loves them. He is in Flo, the nurse who puts up with screaming and crying Americans with more grace than we ever deserved. He is in the widows who have lost all of their loved ones and still dance with joy at church. He is the children who don't have anyone on this earth to care for them besides themselves, but still run up to you with smiles on their faces and throw their arms around you and squeeze with all of their strength. He is in Florence who works all day to pay the $2 it takes to care for her husband Gideon, a man who has been paralyzed and mute for years. He is in Zwelisha, who in between his seizures has become a big brother to little Siyabonga, even though his own family hasn't given him a good example of what love is. He is in 11-year-old Thando, who weighs 33 pounds after 6 surgeries, but will tell me to lie down next to him on his bed and put his hand on my head and pray for me.

And while there were a few days where I doubted it, He is in us. We don't have it all together, we are quick to question Him and put Him into a box, sometimes we stumble and even fall. But God is in us. He has changed us and redeemed us, but even more amazingly, He has used us. In His grace, He managed to use a bunch of dirty, wretched sinners to love His precious children in a country far, far away.

God is everywhere, and He is enough.

My heart was not meant for goodbyes /  by Michelle Clarkson

In three days, I leave and begin my journey to Africa. I'm not sure if I ever really thought this would happen, but here I am packing a single backpack to live out of for the next two months and preparing to travel across the world to a tiny little village in a country that sounds like a made-up place. I have been praying and getting ready for this trip for so much longer than I will actually be there and I know that this is where God is calling me for the next season of my life and yet leaving my home is much harder than I ever thought. While I have always known I am super emotional, getting ready to live in Swaziland has most certainly brought more emotion out of me than I knew possible. As I've been trying to think about why this is, one reason that dawned on me that since becoming a Christian, I have never really lived anywhere else besides Gainesville. It was in this small, overly southern town that I learned about Jesus and I've been here since. I know Christianity in this place, in this church, with these people. It's scary to think about leaving because this is my safe place.

The other is because I really hate saying goodbye to people. While I knew it was only for the summer, after recently saying goodbye to one of my closest friends I could not stop crying. I sat in my car afterwards and sobbed.  As I drove home with mascara covering every part of my face I thought to myself, my heart was not meant for goodbyes. At first, part of me just thought I was being over dramatic, but as I thought about it more I realized how much truth was in it. But it doesn't just apply to me. Our hearts are not meant for goodbyes because we are meant for eternity. When God created the world, we were meant to live forever not only with our loved ones, but without any separation from our Father. There is no “right” way to say goodbye because it is not natural. "He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end" (Ecclesiastics 3:11 ESV). All separations whether temporary or permanent, are painful regardless of how we deal with them because a connection that was formed has to be broken. Being in the presence of a loved one is one of the closest reminders of what it is like to truly be in the presence of God. We desire to be fully known and fully loved and once we have established a relationship where this happens, it goes against our nature to depart from them. Yet there is hope. In the midst of my tears I realized how while sin caused separation, God still found a way. There is a reason He says we must choose Him over our family (Luke 14:2). He knew it would be hard, He knew that when He calls us leave home and go preach His good news across the nations, it would require a huge sacrifice (Mark 16:15). But in return, He promised us that we would never have to say goodbye to Him.

Even though in 3 days I have to say goodbye to my comfortable home, to my roommate who has lived within feet of me for 3 years and to my American life, it really is only for 2 months and it will be ok. While my heart was not meant for goodbyes, it was meant for this.

Photography Bucket list /  by Michelle Clarkson

The people that really know me know that I love bucket lists, I love adventures, I love adrenaline and I love photography. Everyday, I think of a new picture I want to take and a new place I want to travel to. Unfortunately, I am not a millionaire and considering I am going into humanitarian photography I will most likely never become one. However, I think it is ok to dream; I think it is ok to have desires that seem out of reach, I think it is ok to have a bucket list that seems semi-impossible. So here goes nothing:

1. A bird's eye view of Mt. Everest before I skydive over it.

2. A close up of the camel I'm riding as I cross the Sahara Desert.

3. The smoke coming out of Mt. Vesuvius once I've hiked to the summit.

4. A portrait of a medicine man while I'm in Swaziland.

5. The statues of Easter Island.

6. The penguin I'm swimming next to in Antarctica.

7. A landscape of the Egyptian Pyramids at sunrise.

8. One of the stoic gargoyles of Notre Dame.

9. An animal I never knew existed

10. My sister on her wedding day. 

It is not quite time for Africa /  by Michelle Clarkson

Although I have been putting off writing this post for over a week now, even before I started my eyes welled with tears. Regardless of how elegantly I try and say this, it still breaks my heart to have to tell you I am not going to Swaziland in the spring.

I was unable to raise the money I needed in the short period of time I had to do so, and I was given a choice; buy the plane ticket and pray the money comes in before I am set to depart and risk losing the money for the ticket or wait and be deferred onto another trip. I fasted and fervently prayed about it for days, half expecting for a booming voice to come down from heaven or to stumble upon a burning bush that held the answer of what to do. Neither happened. All I heard was a whisper; a whisper so quiet I thought it was simply my fear or doubt, for I figured The Lord's voice would be much louder and reassuring in this case.

It said wait.

If you saw me the days after I found out I was going, you experienced the excitement that overflowed from my body in the form of tears, spastic dancing and shaking hands. There was no part of me that considered the possibility I would not go in the spring. I knew my desire to go was from The Lord and I thought that by being accepted it was the door being clearly opened. I immediately wrote a support letter, made a Facebook group, called people and danced around to Shakira's song, Waka Waka, It's Time for Africa almost every day. For over a month I prepared to go, I got my passport, information on the immunizations I would need, camping supplies, I even got Chacos (a pair of sandals I promised myself I would never give into buying.) I also began getting to know my team and quickly saw how each of us were already being connected in what Jesus was doing in our hearts for the months before. I loved them and would look at my countdown on my phone everyday to see how many days until we would be together serving the Kingdom of God in a land that already had won my heart. In my mind, and I think most of my friend's minds, I was going to Swaziland in the spring.

When I was on the phone with the organization I was going with telling them of how I didn't have the money I needed and was unsure of what to do, my soul began feeling crushed. When I told them that I think I had to wait until the next trip I began sobbing, even though I was on the phone, it was one of those really ugly and violent cries, the kind where immediately snot is running from your nose and you kind of sound like a wild animal. I hung up and cried for hours, sure that I had made a mistake. The days that followed, whenever I would have to tell someone I was no longer going in the spring, it took everything I had to not start sobbing again (sometimes it did not work and I didn't have anything in me to stop the tears.)

I felt defeated, I felt unworthy, I felt embarrassed and shameful. People try so hard to be encouraging and from the moment I told them I was going, they're response was "God will provide the money, don't worry about it the short time you have to raise the money." I knew this was true, I serve the God who parted the Red Sea, surely He could provide the $6,500 I needed to go without even blinking His eyes. The thing is I don't have the money I need to go. I knew it wasn't because my God couldn't do it, so I figured it had to be me. I thought He changed His mind, He no longer wanted to use me in Africa. I thought I had done something wrong. I thought I had heard God wrong when He told me to apply for this trip and that I really couldn't hear His voice. So quickly it became about me.

I was reminded of a sermon I had heard weeks before and it immediately brought me peace.  In Luke 10:17-20 it says "The seventy-two returned with joy, saying "Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your Name!" And He said to them, "I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven." I see now that I put so much of my worth in being a servant of God in Africa. I am so afraid of being unworthy that I thought by going halfway across the world and being a missionary, I would deserve God's love more, that I would finally be a good enough daughter. While I still think He is calling me to do this, I was reminded that God loved me as His daughter way before next semester, He wrote my name in heaven knowing that I would not go to Swaziland in spring 2014. So while it breaks my heart and seems unbearable to not be leaving in 20 days, I rejoice in knowing that my worth is not in my ministry, it is not in how many people I share the Gospel with or baptize (while this are all beautiful and good things we are called to do,) my worth is in my Savior being born 2,000 years ago this week and the life that HE lived, not me.

So I will not be in Africa next semester, I do not know if I will be in school, if I will have a job, I do not know what I am doing with my life, when I will be able to go abroad, who I will marry, if I will have children or how many days I will live. I do know that my God loved me so desperately that even before I was born, He wrote my name in heaven. I know that He is not surprised or disappointed about me not being in Swaziland in the coming months. I know that He will use this for His glory and my good. I know that His ways are higher than my ways and His plans are always better than mine. So even when it is hard to believe, even when I sit here knowing all of this and still in tears, I will trust that my God is sovereign and that it is just not quite time for Africa yet.