On Saturday night, I found myself on the other side of town, singing in Burmese and English. A local organization held a worship night, and we all came together to sing.
We—our community, not me specifically!—were managing sound and were the first band to play, and we were late. So many things weren’t working, and allowing three hours for set up wasn’t enough.
And then they played. We sang.
All my life you have been faithful. All my life you have been so, so good.
This week required a lot of miracles. We are in the midst of {a few} significant family transitions and ministry transitions. This week, Stephen was traveling to work out some details, which left Oak and I at home in the community. We needed miracles for Stephen as he was away attempting to accomplish far more than humanly possible. We also need miracles for Oak and I, for safety and behavior regulation in a difficult season. We also needed miracles in the community, for safety and difficulties that often arise.
So as I sang, I thought of all the ways God had been faithful over the last week, to just get us in the door (albeit late).
But also—this transition we’re undertaking: it’s required so many miracles. Every step we take in this country requires government approval for our visas and what work we do, and for our second adoption; never mind the two of us seeing eye-to-eye on the decisions, considering our family and kids needs, and working with ministry partners to make it all happen. Initially, when we stepped out into what we felt God was asking us to do, we got a no from the adoption agency and a few lawyers, telling us it wasn’t possible.
And then miracles. Suddenly, yes upon yes, open door upon open door. Miracle upon miracle.
So in one of the most challenging years yet—2022 was a doozy, and I never would have thought I’d be saying that in 2020—I can now sing, All my life (including 2022!) you have been faithful. All my life (including 2022!) you have been so, so good.
But I realized it goes so much further than that. We’ve now lived in Mae Sot for twelve years, and it has been an uphill climb every. single. year. Each season held different things that made it challenging, but perhaps now if I was facing that challenge I wouldn’t consider it a challenge? But I digress—it’s required so much bravery, if I’m honest. The whole time. It’s required faith. It’s required hope for something I can’t see right now.
Moving to a country where I didn’t speak the language with limited cultural knowledge, or starting to learn one of the many languages. Driving a motorbike or driving a car. Taking that bleeding man to the hospital, and welcoming the bleeding woman to spend the night in my house. Hearing that another friend was arrested, or hearing another attack across the border. Starting a little business, and then another. Having an awkward conversation in another language. Seeing another year go by and choosing to continue waiting for our kids. Watching Covid unfold in a foreign country, in an impoverished community, with a multinational family and no country where we all had visas. Visiting my daughter and then saying goodbye as we wait on a court system.
This has all required so much more than I have or had to give or offer. I have needed miracles almost every day of the past twelve years.
And they were there, in all the faithfulness and goodness of God.
So these young men, they made a little band on Saturday. One played drums, another on bass, another on acoustic guitar; two sang. Stephen played the keyboard with them and sang. Another young man ran the projector, and another ran sound.
Five of them have chosen to follow Jesus in the past five years, four of them are the first to do so in their family. They didn’t really know how to play any instruments five years ago. They didn’t know how to set up a show or manage the equipment.
The gathering of this crew–even late and with mistakes–sound coming out of the speakers and words on the screen and worship: these are miracles, and nothing less. This is the faithfulness of God. These were bones, and they have taken on flesh and sinews. God knew they could live!
And it was so good for me to see this. Because in the day to day…there are challenges. Sometimes you can’t see the forest for all these trees! There are conversations about things that “aren’t too big of a deal” that you think are a very big deal. There are conversations with your kindergartener about words he can’t say even if he hears his bros say it. There are phones and girlfriends and parties and futures and brave decisions and stupid decisions. There are food bills!
But this, this is the faithfulness of God. Because all of my life—the twenty-one years that made me who I was to marry that boy and get on that plane, the twelve years of chaos and uphill climb, the miracles that were required every step of the way—he has been faithful. He has been good.
And I have had a front-row seat to miracles, in me and around me and with me.