Praying for the Fullness

Traveling into a new country was one big leap where I don’t think I ever fully landed until this past week. When arriving to North Africa, we always had some type of object that would make us feel somewhat at home; whether it be the people I was traveling with and their wonderful comprehension of English, the fries and pizza that would show up on our plates at restaurants, or simply the Western toilet that we have in our apartment. This all changed though as I walked through the streets arm-in-arm with my little “mama” for the next week into an unfamiliar home. My feet touched the ground completely once I entered the home, said what I could in Arabic for probably literally two seconds and then realized no one in the family spoke any English. Silence entered the whole room and the weight of the situation came into play. I was by myself in a home with six other people who couldn’t understand anything that I was saying, who were okay with using a toilet where you had to squat and who didn’t fully comprehend that my stomach might not be able to handle all of the food that they would later force me to eat. Shortly after this revelation though I was brought into the living area where the TV blared of an Indian soap opera. Not being able to speak words was okay here, although I would listen to not just the TV characters forming Arabic words, but the family interacting in these unfamiliar words around me. Sometimes I would just fill in the conversation in my head and hope that God was in some way intervening in their hearts as they raised their voices at one another. An image sticks out in my mind and my heart about this experience.

It is of the mama that took me in as her own child and her oldest daughter. Now imagine these two smiling faces in robes (the oldest daughter in a tye-dye one), bowing down to a truth that is still leaving part of their souls empty and leading them to a road of destruction. My heart was broken when I witnessed this. My heart yearned to talk to them and understand more of what they took on as their own belief. My heart desired greatly to know if they would be open to His truth, but I was empty of words to speak into their lives. God took me through a journey with this family and allowed me to show His love to them in anyway that I could, whether it be doing the dishes or just randomly smiling and showing that I was thankful for their hospitality. He works in the little ways just as much as the big ways sometimes. These families need the truth proclaimed just as much as anywhere in the world, if not more, and I’m learning how to do that in these circumstances. I’m learning to trust His work that doesn’t always look like what I would have preferred to do. Prayer is a huge portion of initiating His work, so please continue to pray for the hearts of these people. They are His people and He wants them back.

-Danielle