earlier this morning, i was finishing up the monthly newsletter that i send out to all of my supporters and those interested in learning more about my ministry. (ps: if you want to be signed up for regular updates, holla, and i’ll put you on the list!) in it, i was sharing recent updates i’ve received from Liberia, both good and bad. i wrote about Lamie and Gifty, and shared about a recent phone call i had with Mercy, who insisted that i come back to Liberia as soon as possible instead of in January (umm, melt. my. heart.)
through recounting the stories, i realized how many different emotions were floating to the surface. sadness and mourning. excitement. worry. happiness. relief. i need to be honest:: sometimes, doing what i do, it’s so difficult to stay positive. to stay hopeful. for every Mercy, there’s a Lamie. lives are changed, but lives are also lost. reality has a way of crashing down–hard!– and, if i’m not careful, i can suffocate beneath it.
it’s not true just in Liberia, but no matter where one lives in the world. life is beautiful, but it can also be messy. there is a time for rejoicing, but also a time for pain. joy can be tinged with sadness, and the Lord both gives and takes away.
but i know the end of the Story. i know this is not how it will always be. a day will come in which every wrong will be made right and every tear wiped away.
in the meantime, i choose to find the Light. it’s there, even if my weak eyes must strain to see it. no matter how dark the situation, there is always, always Light. there are tears, yes, and hurting hearts and sick bodies and doubts and confusions and questions and the ache, always the ache.
but there is Light.
there is beauty and transformation and smiles and kisses. there is peace and promises and the sweet whispers of the One who soothes my heart.
there is Light.
and i know–oh, how i know!–that the darkness can never overcome it.