Sunrise, Jan 27th

“Casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ.” 2 Corinthians 10:5

The sunrises are different here. More subtle. More clouds. More light-up-the-sky pastels that linger half an hour, framed in palm trees. Africa was not subtle – the sun appeared by 4 or 5 in the morning and beat down with ferocity by 7 am. Here I can roll out of bed at 6:30 and enjoy the view from my porch for half an hour, tea in hand. And that’s not the only difference. Ah, the choices. What kind of food to buy, where to eat, even who to spend time with. I forgot that we had so many friends – wonderful friends, funny friends, friends that refresh my spirit. Is that why I used to be an extrovert, why I used to pack every minute to the brim with activities? What did we every do to deserve these amazing people in our lives? How is it we can reconnect after years and fellowship, share life together again. I find the free time in my days dissolving. Gone are the leisurely mornings 4 days a week, when I could sit on my porch at 9 or 10. Gone are the evenings to ourselves, relaxing from the time the sun went down until bedtime. There are lights on the streets, things within walking distance, cross walks, multiple lanes, multiple roads, freeways. Am I changing into a different person, just because I’m here? One thing I have settled, I need to start getting up earlier and going to bed earlier. Without that discipline, there would be no time for stretching, praying, reading, reflecting. And I need time for those things especially now, because life is becoming a whirlwind. But it’s nice, that means I will get to see more sunrises, sunrises that linger. And I won’t even have to get up by 4 to see them.

Orientation, Jan 17th

They shouldn’t call it orientation at the Christian Health Service Corps, they should call it Welcome Home Week. From the moment we arrived at Shalom Retreat and Conference center, we felt it – like we were part of a warm family, like we had finally arrived. Every meal was a homecooked feast served in our director’s dining room. We could wrap up in one of many warm fleece blankets or slide our feet into slippers during the information sessions. We spent an hour every morning worshipping together. But it was more than that. We arrived with plenty of baggage – disappointment from working with organizations based on faith but strangled in bureaucratic red tape, confusion about how all the pieces would fit together in a smaller, more flexible organization, and insecurities about finding funding for this next phase of our ministry. But Greg, Candi, and the other staff let us unpack our concerns piece by piece, examined them with us, and helped us cast them to the wind. Other missions organizations had trouble accommodating my passion for public health, said they couldn’t spare a doctor from serving full-time in their hospital, and had turned us away. Christian Health Service Corps celebrated my calling to preventive medicine, telling me that they had been looking for missionaries like me. We thought we were asking too much hoping to continue seeing my former patients in clinic one day a week in the capital city while investing the rest of my time in a new hospital and community health program an hour away. But Greg affirmed my desire for continuity and patient diversity. He told me, “That shouldn’t be a problem,” and that was it. Then the funding. This would be our first mission assignment for which we raised our entire support, and we were terrified. But Greg told us it would be okay, that doctors who serve with Christian Health Service Corps generally develop enough partnerships to be fully funded in a matter of months. It was hard to believe, but I watched how all the staff of CHSC live confidently in that kind of faith, and that was good enough to reassure me. And then God started providing for us in ways we never expected. Day after day during the time we were there, we received news of unexpected gifts flowing into our account before we even had the chance to ask. These I can only comprehend as God’s perfectly timed assurance and affirmation that we were where He wanted us and that He would take care of the rest. This week showed me a missionary support team who was more than I could have hoped for, and I’m excited to fulfill my part of the Great Commission alongside my new family. It’s good to be home.

Beach Perspective, Dec. 20th

I ran down to the beach today. It was such a beautiful day, warm but not too warm with a touch of wind and a perfect envelope of humidity. I felt fresh, well-rested, and energetic due to the differences in altitude and lack of hills. I glided down. When the beach came into focus, it filled me with awe. Living two years in a landlocked country helped me appreciate the majesty of the ocean more. I took some deep breaths, stretched a bit, and sat down on a little tuft of grass to watch the waves. It reminded me of how I used to sit perched on the top of the stadium at UCLA, how that would be a place I could try to get perspective as a pre-med athlete and a medical student. Like a place where I could meet with God, above the hustle of everything else. Today the beach felt like that. Troubles felt so little and I felt like I was sitting in the palm of The Omniscient, The Omnipotent. I wanted to capture the feeling, the bit of wind on my face, the warmth all around me, the sound of the waves. I wanted to stay there for a long time. Or at least carry the feeling back with me. There is so much uncertain up ahead of me. I would like to know what the future holds, to have reassurance that money won’t be an issue, to feel fulfilled in my new job. But I know things like that aren’t guaranteed for those of us who are in but not of the world. Already I have blessings that much of humanity would not have afforded in hundreds of years. So I try to soak in the comfort that God is taking care of me, to remember the feeling of being in a place where I can feel calm and remember how big He is. I ran back, not wanting to leave the beach behind, but hoping that I could carry the feeling with me for a long time to come. I knew dry times would come. Cold times, too. But I hope that I can look back and remember gazing out on the vast expanse and how confident I can be that God is big and has it all under His control.