Thank you…when I think of you, I am reminded of New Testament writers like Paul, Timothy, and Peter. They wrote letters to and visited churches – then wrote more letters and went back to check on those following Jesus. That’s what you do for us. You come – you share and love us, and then you come back year after year and check on us – you check on our families and our ministries. We are missionaries, but so are you. So, thank you – thank you. There are no words for how much your coming means to us.
These are the (paraphrased) words of a sweet missionary sister this evening at Revive – a four-day retreat for missionaries living and serving in Honduras. As our team stood in front of the missionaries at the retreat’s opening, she thanked us for coming, for loving, for caring.
My chest swelled with emotion as I listened to her words seep through her choked-back tears.
It’s hard to accept a thank you when you feel so inadequate. You feel you’re here on mission- answering His call. And isn’t that the least you can do? Answer the call of and follow the one who died for you on a cross? To receive thanks for following is humbling- and overwhelming.
I think I speak for our entire team when I say that our time in Honduras is a privilege – an honor. We come because we love God and these women who serve him daily in Honduras. We consider walking alongside these women for four days thanks enough.
And, if you’re a woman in the states who sponsored a missionary to be here this weekend, we say thanks – and we know thanks aren’t adequate. We know you make this possible. We consider you, too, ones who keep coming back and checking in on your sisters. Loving them. Praying for them. Caring about their work here.
Don’t we all simply want THAT? To know we are appreciated and loved. To know someone sees and appreciates what we do. To know someone cares about you while you serve either in a third-world country or in your living room.
To know someone sees past your talents – past your gifts – past your title of missionary or mother or sister or wife and friend.
To who you are.
Not the one who writes or the one who serves in Honduras or the mom of so and so, but the one who is His daughter. The one who loves well and lives for the kingdom.
To know someone sees your heart.
The heart that wants more than anything to follow Jesus and love others.
Tonight, as we worship with our sisters in Honduras, I am reminded that He revives us; He is our Cornerstone and Anchor. He alone can save. And He is the NOTICER.
He sees me and you, sister.
He sees you serving in Honduras. He sees you serving your family dinner. He sees you loving your neighbor. He sees you leading the Bible study. He sees you loving your husband. He sees you teaching students and wiping noses. He sees you up in the middle of night with a crying baby – a sick child.
He sees YOU. And he LOVES you.
Psalm 139: 1-18
O Lord, you have examined my heart
and know everything about me.
2 You know when I sit down or stand up.
You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
3 You see me when I travel
and when I rest at home.
You know everything I do.
4 You know what I am going to say
even before I say it, Lord.
5 You go before me and follow me.
You place your hand of blessing on my head.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too great for me to understand!
7 I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!
8 If I go up to heaven, you are there;
if I go down to the grave, you are there.
9 If I ride the wings of the morning,
if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
and your strength will support me.
11 I could ask the darkness to hide me
and the light around me to become night—
12 but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.
To you the night shines as bright as day.
Darkness and light are the same to you.
13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
16 You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed.
17 How precious are your thoughts about me,O God.
They cannot be numbered!
18 I can’t even count them;
they outnumber the grains of sand!
And when I wake up,
you are still with me!
Take these promises – this knowledge – with you, sister, knowing you are fearfully and wonderfully made, and He sees you.
I am looking forward to an amazing weekend in Honduras! Please join me in praying for revival.