Two of my daughters and I, along with 27 people from our church, recently crossed the border into Mexico for a week of ministering alongside of a church in Ensenada. On Thursday afternoon (our last day before leaving), I wrote the following journal entry…
Today, I sit at the base camp, alone in my RV.
Seven hours.
I am too sick to go to the ministry site. Running has become my pastime.
After sleeping, watching a Rush live concert on DVD, and sleeping some more, I have decided to sit outside, underneath the awning. There is literally no one here, and nothing has happened for hours.
This doesn’t happen very often to me.
But as I sit here, I am overwhelmed with the truest thought that God is still working.
God is working. I am not.
It occurs to me that I don’t really believe this most days. I believe a lie–that when I quit working, so does God. It’s not as overt as that, but it’s a lie I’ve grasped a hold of nonetheless.
But what a suprisingly peaceful notion to rest in a belief that God is working in my ministry, my family, my church, and my relationships even when I sit alone in an RV in the middle of a Third World country.
So this day, I rest. I sigh. I talk to myself. I am amazed by the instrumentation on “Limelight”.
And I am at a perfectly quiet peace.
I know that God is working in Angela, Lindsey, Ally, and Syd.
I know that God is the CEO of Floodgate. I know that no one will download a video without His prompting.
And I am smiling.
I am learning to sit by faith.
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