not yet

During the first several weeks I've been here, I wouldn't say that I was enjoying myself. Yes, I enjoyed some moments of it and to be honest, those moments I enjoyed were probably the moments whenever my flesh was most happy, whenever things were easiest. Which here in Chad, there aren't many of those moments.

I told myself I would rather be doing something much more noble, more great. I wouldn't mind the suffering, I thought, if I were doing something great. Because to me, hauling the third bucket of dirty laundry water or trying (and helplessly failing) to put up mosquito nets isn't as great as some things I could be doing for God.

Woah, hold up, Kendra. When did you start doing things for God? Don't you know that your good works are like filthy rags to God, don't you know that God looks at you heart?

All this I know, in my brain. But now I truly am learning it in my soul. God doesn't want my works. (whew, am I sure glad, because if He did want my works, I would be in deep trouble). He wants me. He wants me, nasty and polluted as I am, to run recklessly into His arms. He wants me to do everything in joy, in thankfulness, with a pure heart. Sweep the floor with joy, Kendra. Play that card game with the kids (for the 50th time) in thankfulness. Clean up the throw up with a pure heart. 

How far I have to go.

At first I wasn't enjoying it here. I hated it, this ripping of the flesh.  It wasn't until last night when one of the kids asked me, "You'd rather be back at home in America, wouldn't you?"

It took me a second to answer. And two weeks ago, my answer would've been yes, of course I would rather be home.

But now I'm learning that yes, my flesh hates this life, my heart has never been so full, so satisfied. No, I don't want to go home. Not yet.