Refuge // pt. 2

A few months ago my squad was in Ecuador and on a weekend trip to another city called Banos. A few of us met a family of Venezuelan refugees walking to Peru and got to share a meal with them. That night moved something deeply in me as God revealed more of His heart by wrecking mine. If you want to read about it, check out my blog called Refuge. It might give some good context as I go into this blog. 

During our time in Romania my squad got to assist our church in caring for Ukrainian refugees. When the conflict in Ukraine started I felt it deeply – during the first few days of the invasion my squad was traveling from Eswatini to Rwanda, and it consumed my thoughts that travel day. I remember sitting in the airport and watching the news, checking my phone over and over again for updates, praying a lot, and seriously considering quitting the race to go to the Ukraine border and assist with caring for those already fleeing. God told me no, and it honestly hurt me and relieved me all at once. During our time in Rwanda I followed the war and prayed a lot over it and into our upcoming month in Romania. As we stood in commemoration of the Rwandan genocide I read reports of what looked to me like genocide in Ukraine, and I prayed and asked God if I should quit again – and again He said no. I thought a lot about the family I had met in Ecuador. It gave me hope to see how the world was beginning to respond to Ukrainian refugees, it broke my heart to know that the millions of other refugees around the world aren’t usually responded to in these ways. That the family I held in Ecuador hadn’t been responded to in that way. I just so desperately wanted to do something to fight for justice and to bring God’s kingdom to the earth – and just as I did in Ecuador all those months ago I felt helpless and lost and spent a lot of nights crying out to God and feeling Him reveal more of His heartbreak to me. 

By the time we got to Romania, my thoughts about quitting the race to work there longer had mostly mellowed out – I felt really strongly about finishing what I had committed to and doing it with the community God so lovingly placed me in. Plus I was reminded that I could go back after I finish the race (I’m still praying about that).  When we got there we pretty much hit the ground running, and I loved it.  I loved every piece of pouring out my time and energy to meet the needs of the families I was meeting and organizing food or clothing and moving 50 million boxes of jam (that may be a slight exaggeration) out of the van and into the office and into a different van two days later. Just running to the store to grab toilet paper for the houses felt purposeful. I know I wasn’t fighting for justice in the ways we typically would think of it – but God makes it clear that His justice and perfect order includes caring for the foreigner, the oppressed, the widow, the orphan. And thats what we did even in the smallest ways. I wasn’t in the front lines, but I also wasn’t in the audience – I never want to be a bystander in the worlds pain. 

A week or so after we got there I was asked to assist a family trying to find resettlement in the US or in another country if that wasn’t possible. If you read my Refuge blog, you know that I studied Refugee Resettlement for part of my degree – I don’t know a ton, but I do have background information and familiarity with how some of these things work and so I was the best option. I got to work researching the process for the US and trying to find connections for the family. I went to the transit house to meet with them – and just like in Ecuador my lap was quickly filled with the two little girls. We spent the afternoon talking about their options and I left feeling so overjoyed that I got to be part of this process. I was so thankful that God was letting me partner in His provision in a bigger way then I had been able to in Ecuador. It sparked something in me that I loved and I dreamed about the moment I could drop them off at the airport and say “I did that, I found them a home”. I dreamed about this success story and how it would fuel the rest of my life. I was so eager to help them the way I wasn’t able to in Ecuador. But that didn’t happen – truthfully I failed them. 

I don’t say that in self-pity, in defeat, or without full recognition of how I’m not actually trained to do this kind of work at the moment. But the plain truth is I failed. I didn’t do all I endeavored to do for them. I didn’t fulfill the responsibility I was given to find them a place to go. The research I did and connections I tried to make didn’t lead to much. I floundered around for about a week trying to force all the pieces together and feeling my pride deflate. I allowed myself to become distracted by other ministry instead of making more calls, and ultimately they ended up finding an organization that was able to help them far better than I could – thankfully they are heading to Ireland soon! I still got to spend a good amount of time with them and I compiled all my research that will hopefully be helpful for other families to inform their decisions on where to move. But despite that, once again I found myself in a place of not being able to provide much for a family fleeing war. 

For some reason our immediate response to anyone who says they’ve failed at something is to comfort them and try to prove they didn’t fail – we view failures as horrible things that destroy people and their confidence. Please hear me when I say this isn’t what I’m looking for in this blog post. I don’t need anyone to coddle me and tell me I did my best or build my ego up. I’m not ashamed of this failure, honestly I’m thankful for it and for the humility it brought me into (and even more thankful someone else was able to fulfill the job). I’m thankful for this failure because in it I was once again reminded of how desperately I need God in every waking moment of my day and in everything I do. I was entrusted with a difficult task and I saw the way that, despite my desire to fulfill it, I allowed distractions to get in the way and how I backed down when I got discouraged. This failure has revealed parts of my character, my diligence, and my faith that are lacking. I’m not trained or deeply knowledgable about how to find connections or understand the legal intricacies, but truthfully I think I had the background understanding and intellect to figure it out. Yet I didn’t. I failed the task God had put in front of me – but because I know Him and His desire to grow me I can stand in that without feeling crushed or ashamed. I got to witness God move beautifully for this family despite my failure to be the one providing, and I got to see ways I need to be grown and strengthened so that next time God asks something hard of me I will steward it better. I won’t deny there have been moments I’ve been frustrated with myself about how I dropped the ball, but I think even the frustration is a testimony to what God is shaping me to be. 

Once again I find myself in awe of the provision of El Shaddai and thankful for a God that delights my in partnership, but doesn’t require it to move.

Abba,

You are good.