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Jesus' Love Is Better

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by Anna McGee, current 6-month Africa IMMERSION team member

6 month mission trips

The slip of paper read:

"You are quiet, gentle, and submissive to others. You like to put others first and therefore you are seen as very humble. You speak, but only when spoken to. You prefer that others get the attention."

Well aren't you just full of jokes this morning, Yahweh.

Team activities quickly became my favorite part of 9 to 5 training days. Like recess, for missionaries-to-be. Legos, Play-doh, M&Ms and make believe—the only physical evidence of responsibility was the coffee pot, seemingly ever brewing.

But it was in the moments where my success was measured in marbles that I unexpectedly stumbled upon His heaping grace.

Moments, for example, when I was called to take on a personality entirely different than my own, step into skin I didn't recognize, die to myself.

Whoof.

Like walking a mile in someone else's shoes, I am being called into foreign territory—physically and emotionally. Some shoes, like humility, feel seven sizes too big—an area where I needed to grow. Others, like my trusted sidekick "self confidence," was snug around the edges—an area where I could afford to shrink.

Being uncomfortable is often associated with feeling of anxiousness, frustration, and timidity. But in the beginning of this trip I have been confronted by one very consistent reality: I serve an ever-present God. He is unmistakable and undeniable in His love, comfort, and kindness, but also in His instruction, reproach, and discipline.

I am changed every day, surrounded by collaborators and contributors to that change.

My team is full of Christ-bearing individuals: Drew, Zach, Brandon, Tim, Peter, Jacklyn, Jackie, Jenny, Kendra, Karis, Alicia and me. And they are making me more like Him—every day in an assortment of ways.

Peter pauses before he answers almost any question, cautious and careful with his words. Jackie is a warrior of the middle ground, she is the mediator of compromise. Drew serves the world around him consistently, despite the way it changes. Alicia has the tender touch of a mother, she's an endless comforter. Zach has eyes that see the best in people, and a contagious laughter that finds joy in small things. Jenny is the picture of strength hidden by a small frame.

They are thoughtful, routine, caring, passionate, humble people.

If one thing was immediate, it was our acceptance of the reality of our six months together. Sleep-deprived, shower-deprived, America-deprived, comfort-deprived, but most certainly not joy-deprived.

It was silently understood that eventually, if not immediately, we would see all sides of each other. So we simply and mysteriously skipped the stage in meeting new people when you present yourself all put together and wrapped in a pretty little bow. Instead, we circled together and dropped our baggage, our messes, right there in the middle—and then wrapped it in the forgiveness of Jesus.

And it is so much easier to love each other that way.

Because the truth is, we are all navigating through our own trenches as best we can. We are not doing it perfectly, and we cannot do it alone.

6 month mission trips

Bottom line, Jesus' love is better.

If that weren't true, our weeks in New York would have been much more difficult to swallow. His love has altered what I am thankful for every morning and every night.

I sleep in a sleeping bag on a blow-up mat, and in the morning, I have to pack it all up and stuff my overflowing pack into a small closet so it is out of the way for the day—a frustrating discipline. The small classroom we sleep in has a security light that stays on 24/7. It illuminates the night and wakes me up several times, when I am desperate for a few extra hours. It is freezing cold in New York City. And every morning, I get up and layer on warm clothes to take on the windchill and walk 30 minutes to our Salvation Army location with my team. We work all day on tedious tasks like scraping years-old tape off large windows, or organizing closets that haven't seen the sunlight since before I was born.

It is so easy to be bitter. There are 1,000 opportunities a day to complain about the circumstances. (And to be fair, I probably take advantage of 500 of them.)

But Jesus' love is better.

In that small classroom, I sleep side by side with the most fascinating group of young girls. I have late-night pillow talks with Alicia. I laugh with Jackie every morning as she attempts to stuff her sleeping bag into its tiny pouch. I compare packing supplies with some of the best packers, and have learned tricks and tips to better organize my pack. We are extra thankful on Saturday mornings when we can leave out our mats.

That annoying security light has turned into a fun nightly game of how to cover it up. We climb on table and chairs and use our best problem solving skills. We've used jackets, turned our mats, and eventually settled on a piece of red paper that just so happens to be perfectly square shaped.

The daily trips to our Salvation Army location almost always includes a Dunkin' Donuts stop. We have yet to get there or come back using the same route. Our adventures are sprinkled with stories that make us laugh, even hours later.

I have met the most interesting people at work. Like Ms. Marta, who is from Honduras and makes chicken wings where the meat is melting off the bone. Or Ms. Earlene who's 70 years old and has a talk show for children. (She also has a liking for cheetah print outfits.) I spend my afternoon with kids who don't know how to filter themselves, but can answer "16 x 16" before I can.

Because Jesus' love is better, I can choose to see the joy underneath my every complaint. And every time I complain, I have a sanctifying team member to call me out on it in ways that make me laugh and extra thankful to be precisely where I am.

Funny thing, New York is the easy part.

I'm still tucked safely underneath America's wing. But February is coming quickly, and Africa will soon take me into its fold.

I am anxious for Africa. But Jesus is graciously using this time to prepare my team and me. So I'm taking it in as it comes.


LEARN MORE | The next 6-Month Africa IMMERSION term starts in May!
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