I remember my second interview with the south Texas church very well. I was resentful toward God for even asking me to show up. And afterward, in my hotel room, most of the rest of my evening was filled with wailing, weeping, rending of clothes, gnashing of teeth, and my frantic pleas, begging God not to make me go.
In my spiritual growth journey, one thing I have learned is: trust and obey. Yes, that’s the title to an old hymn you might recognize and words that I continue to live by today. So I did just that. In July 2006, I left my homeland and ventured, by faith, to a land unknown.
If you’re waiting for me to share a land-flowing-with-milk-and-honey kind of ending here, you won’t get it. That’s not exactly what happened over the next year. Without my dependencies, I was alone like never before, so the only person I had to turn to was God.
I thought: A-ha! I knew this was going to happen. He fooled me. He did all of this just so He could get me alone with Him?! Wait. He wants me all to Himself? He doesn’t want me to focus on anything or anyone other than Him?
This realization didn’t immediately cure my loneliness. I spent much of that year in the same position I was in at the hotel during my second interview. Countless nights, I lay facedown on the living room floor of my apartment and cried myself to sleep. But I soon realized that my sessions of sorrow had turned into intense times of praise and prayer. I still wept in a fierce way—but I never felt God’s closeness in a more real way than I did then.
I spent that year searching for Him, and I found Him. He didn’t shout out the answers. There were no clouds that parted or lighting bolts that struck me. There was no burning bush. But He was definitely present. I talked. He listened. He talked. I listened. The distractions in my life had masked His presence in my life.
After that year, God said, “OK. You’re time is over here. Let’s move you on to the next place.” That’s where I am today. I can’t say that I still don’t get frustrated in my walk or confused by what He’s trying to tell me. I do all the time. And I’m still seeking His kingdom and righteousness, but, over time, our relationship has grown into something spectacular.
My dad once said to me, “God is weaving the experiences of your life together into a tapestry. But you’re looking at the canvas on the backside. You can’t understand how it could make any sense when it looks like a mess. Just turn it around, and you’ll see that He’s working behind the scenes to create a beautiful work of art. Keep seeking Him, following Him, trusting and obeying Him—and, as time goes on, you’ll begin to see the big picture come together as He intended.”
