I am still going

I woke up this morning from texts from my sisters. My dad called, then my best friend Jade. They all had one question: “Are you still going?”

“What?” I responded, “what are you talking about?”

“There was a terrorist attack in Kenya, 147 killed.”

My heart sank. Tears formed in my eyes. So many questions raced through my head. Where was the attack? Who did it? ARE MY KIDS OKAY? I quickly grabbed my computer and googled “terrorist attack in Kenya”, a search term I dreaded typing with every keystroke. My heart pounded as I considered all the possibilities.  The thought of terrorism was hitting more close to home. I quickly scanned through the articles looking for anything familiar. I mapped out the distance from the attack to the school I’m planning to move to. I looked for any familiar names or faces. Those faces I did not recognize, but my heart still ached for a people I consider my own.

Three years ago, I made my first trek to Kenya, 1 year ago I went again, and 5 months ago I decided to move there. Unbothered by the threat of disease, unmoved by the “potential” risk of terrorism. Unfazed by the distance from home, the limited internet, and the lack of modern conveniences. My resolve never changed: “I’m moving to Kenya. My heart is already there.” It had become an automatic response anytime anyone questioned my move or my motives. The Lord is calling me there, surely I can face any of these “risks.” Surely, right?

This morning my resolve was shaken. My once automatic response replaced with an unsteady unsureness. My faith tested. “Am I really brave enough?” I asked myself.

The articles I’ve read about the attack say they separated the Christians from the Muslims, then executed all the Christians. These young students gathered for morning prayer and killed for their faith, for their belief in the one true King, killed for their devotion to the Father. Could I be that brave?

Probably not. But thankfully I don’t have to rely on my strength and courage. As Paul wrote, “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” Dying is not the end, it’s the beginning of eternity. To be sure, I am filled with fear at the thought of moving to a country privy to terrorist attacks, but am I still going? Yes, I am still going. Of course, I am still going. Aren’t my kids still there? Is not my heart already there? Have I not been praying for this move?

Putting my life on the line for Christ just got more real for me. But isn’t that the way it should be. Shouldn’t believers of Christ be considered the crazy ones, the bold ones, the daring ones? My prayers aren’t that the Lord would keep me safe and comfortable while I am there, but that I would be poured out for Him and be used to spread His message and give Him glory. I’ll let Him figure out the rest.

“Kristen, did you hear what happened? Are you still going?”

“Yes, I am still going.”

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The Wall

Earlier this week, on our company retreat, we went rock climbing for a team building activity.  Now, I love physical activities and challenges, but I have a terrible, crippling fear of heights. As soon as we arrived at the facility, and I looked at the height of the walls, I told myself there was no way I was going to climb that high.

However, my competitive drive kicked in, and I wasn’t going to not try. So I tried. I climbed half way up the wall and froze in fear. I could physically go higher, but my mind told me that I could not. I panicked, not able to go any higher I came down. Dejected at my inability to keep going higher, I was frustrated and disappointed.

About 15 minutes later, I pep talked myself into going again. I knew I could do it. I knew I had the strength, I just needed to push myself higher. I had to trust in the harness and the rope. I had to believe that I wasn’t going to fall. I had to have faith that I could go higher.

So I got strapped into the harness and began to climb again. The first few steps were easy. I breezed through the lower part of the wall. Then, just like it happened the time before, I got to the same point, and I froze. Crippled in fear, I was stuck midway on the wall. My legs and arms began to shake, I looked down and panicked. I could not go any higher on this wall. Then, below me, all of my teammates began to cheer me on, encouraging me to keep going higher. There words were nice, but ultimately I needed to silence the voice in my head that told me I could not. I had to listen to the still small voice in my soul that told me I could. I let that voice be my guide as I took step by step, until I reached the very top. Higher than I thought I could go, but not higher than I could go.

That wall is life. I know sometimes I get stuck in a place, crippled by fear, scared to keep going, losing faith, looking backwards, and ultimately giving up. But God never intended us to be stuck. By His strength we can keep going, keep climbing, keep moving, and go higher, longer, further than we ever imagined or thought. When I came down from the wall, all of my teammates rushed me with hugs and high fives. My boss even told me to tap into whatever force led me to the wall the second time. That force, that will, that determination comes from the Lord, and I pray that I can listen to His voice when he whispers, “keep going higher, my rope will guide you, my harness will catch you, my love will never leave you, you will not FALL.”