this is amazing grace.

Honestly? It’s been weird to have our neighbors join us at church.

It’s the goal, really, and I’m hopeful in so many ways. I’m thankful they have additional friendships within the Church; that they are able to see Christ outside of Stephen & I and our Western cultural influences. I want them to see faith in their own context.

It’s also pretty amazing to have more people helping us, as this church has, encouraging us in language, helping with some hospital trips & rides to church when we’re traveling, teaching bible studies, and building relationships. As two people with budding language skills, we’ve known we were in over our heads from the beginning. It finally feels like we’re at least part of a team.

That said, I’ve found the past month or so of church somewhat draining. The sheer experience is part of it: we return from children’s Sunday school about 4:15 in the afternoon, and then we start about 5pm coordinating who is going and who isn’t. We gather people, we wait on showers, we hold babies. We give lectures to the kids about how we’re “singing & listening” not “playing and snacking and giggling.” And then we all pile into the car or cars and coordinate all the rides. By the end of the night, Stephen has spent a few hours in the car going back and forth.

And then we arrive, corralling our crew and setting up enough chairs. We sit through an over two hour service in Burmese, trying to both understand and explain. There’s reading the Burmese songs & trying to understand prayer requests while a child falls asleep in my arms; and then translating the reference into English and finding it in my English Bible while I am helping a friend locate it in her Burmese Bible. All while giving out Mom-glares and turn-around motions. And the hubs is sitting a few feet away doing the same with another group of folks & another child sleeping in his lap.

By the time we finish and have dinner, I’m spent. We nibble on rice and fish while the neighbors put down a few platefuls, and the rides home start all over again. Sometimes I wait with some for Stephen’s second trip, and sometimes we ride the church truck home—which is an adventure all in itself.

So in some ways, that is obviously tiring.

But a few weeks in, I think it’s more than that. It’s my heart: they are seeing the heart of why we’re here. They are hearing the church pray for us and our ministry. They are watching me pray and watching me sing and watching how much money I put into the offering bag. They are seeing the heart of what keeps me here.

And I want so badly for them to see Jesus in it. I want them to see our love, not our exhaustion. I want them to see Jesus, not just a church service. I want them to see the mansion, not just a tent of salvation.

I find myself asking: How do I show them how great our God is? How do I show them how much he loves them? I feel a pressure in it all: Why are they here this particular week? What are they looking for? How can I maximize this moment so that we don’t miss this opportunity?

Yesterday, as I sat in church, I realized how much pressure I feel from this. This was the moment: I was shaking my feet below my chair. I was fighting back a second yawn, trying to figure out how I was going to make it all the way through. I was sick yesterday and thus exhausted. I saw Stephen shaking his feet, too: he’s had a allergic reaction to something for a few weeks now, and he’s got something of itchy hives that are breaking out repeatedly. I could tell he was uncomfortable. It’s been a season where we’re both been making it from Monday to Monday, looking for one day of Sabbath rest to pull us through the next week.

I realized I didn’t want them to be distracted from the point of it all just because I’m weak and tired.

And I recalled something from a friend’s blog earlier this week, as she was talking about her kids’ encounters with faith. “No matter what we do to help guide them, we have to remember that the Gospel is big enough and beautiful enough to have the power alone to woo a soul to Jesus.”

And while these aren’t my children, I think it’s much the same. If God is truly everything I believe him to be, he doesn’t need my representation. While he’s chosen us to be here and he’s called us to reflect his glory; he doesn’t need us. The God we serve doesn’t need my defense; instead “his invisible attributes, namely his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world.” The gospel we follow is beautiful. He’s far great enough and far beautiful enough to woo this community to himself. His character, His greatness, His love, and His grace speak for themselves.

Our lives here have taken my faith through the ringer. I have asked so many questions and only found a few answers. I’ve found new meaning in the three that remain—faith, hope, and love. So many of my questions have led me back to blind faith and ridiculous hope, and they are scary pillars to be resting on. The more I depend on them, the more I long for the day for when we see fully, and love remains—the most glorious of the three, in God himself.

So in my trusting God with our community, I realize it says so much more of my own faith. If I’m viewing myself as a necessary representative and defense, it’s because I doubt Him myself. I don’t want them to be disappointed because I have been disappointed.

Let me say again, I’m admittedly not qualified for this. I’m sure you’re all wishing someone was here with greater faith and a better perspective. I admit, I’m often found praying (or shouting), “I believe; Lord, help my unbelief!” Yet even when I am found wanting, He has been gracious. He has been loving. He has been a good, great Father.

So I found myself in church, thankful that the community is looking for a God that will represent himself. I found myself thankful that the Gospel is big enough and beautiful enough on it’s own. I found myself thankful that His greatness will speak for itself to them. But I also found myself thankful that His greatness will speak for itself to me, too; day after day and year after year. In a church service where I was really too tired to know what the sermon was about, He showed me his great love for me, too. He showed me that Gospel is big enough and beautiful enough to woo me again and again.

Who breaks the power of sin and darkness
Whose love is mighty and so much stronger
The King of Glory, the King above all kings
Who shakes the whole earth with holy thunder
Who leaves us breathless in awe and wonder
The King of Glory, the King above all kings

Who brings our chaos back into order
Who makes the orphan a son and daughter
The King of Glory, the King above all kings
Who rules the nations with truth and justice
Shines like the sun in all of its brilliance
The King of Glory, the King above all kings

This amazing grace; this is unfailing love
That you would take my place; that you would bear my cross
That you’d lay down your life; that I would be set free
Jesus, I sing for all that you’ve done for me

Worthy is the Lamb who was slain
Worthy is the King who conquered the grave
Worthy is the Lamb who was slain
Worthy is the King who conquered the grave