On my way back from walking Naomi, the daughter of one of the couples in the Lammi’s home schooling co-op, home after their P.E./art/music class, it began to rain. Rather than follow the crowd and either run for cover, or make my way quickly back home, I found myself enduring the chill of the wind in order to, like the Turkish soil, soak up the rain. As the wind blew harder, and the rain came down heavier, I found myself praying that somehow the rain would be living water to my soul and to the souls of the men, women and children quickly running for cover around me.
The past few weeks have been good, but not as good as some of the most chaotic times of my life often are. It’s during the more difficult seasons that I often find myself thickly covered with the presence of the Spirit – a most cherished position. I cannot pin point exactly what has changed to lessen God’s presence emotionally in my life. However, today he reminded me that he is faithful, and there is a definite reality of his presence, despite my deficit. The time I spend with him may not feel as rich as it sometimes does – I may not fall to my knees, or cry, or find myself pouring forth poetic praise, but he has shown me that it is as rich. My duty is to bring my praise and worship, repent of my sin, and lay my concerns at the foot of his throne daily.
So I did today. I did not want to read because the Word has not felt as alive as it normally does. But I read anyway. I did not want to pray because my words have not been flowing as easily or as sweetly as they sometimes do. But I prayed regardless. I prayed for some menial concerns like asking that I would not be offered so much food in one day. I am beginning to feel lethargic from all of the big meals, and the obligation to eat to be polite. I also prayed that my time with the Lammi’s upstairs neighbor would be a blessing to both of us – that in spite of the language barrier, Vedia and I would be able to communicate and enjoy one another’s company. They may sound like simple requests, but in my fatigue and seeming spiritual dryness, I needed encouragement. God is good – he gave me just this.
Vedia and I spent over two hours studying Turkish from my teach yourself Turkish book, reviewing her English homework (an essay on ‘Becoming Jane’), and talking (with two Turkish-English dictionaries within reach) over coffee and tea-sized chocolate cookies. I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with her, and our time extended right into lunch downstairs (which allowed me to have a smaller, informal lunch on my own). I learned how to tell her little sister, Vildun, ‘What a cute little girl!’ though I’ve already forgotten. I will have to ask her to remind me tomorrow. I cannot adequately explain how the answers to my prayers of only a couple hours earlier encouraged me, but anyone who’s felt themselves almost foolishly rejoicing over a quick answer to an (from man’s point of view) insignificant answer to prayer knows what I mean.
Regardless of whether I know it or not, whether or not my energy level, or my emotional stability reveals it – I know that, without fail, my Father rains his love and mercy down upon me daily and he will do so until he finally brings me to himself in the moment of my last breath. It is evidenced in his answers to my detailed prayers, and in his eternal, as well as daily provision. He sustains me. This I know all too well; and upon this knowledge I will lean and find my strength. I know the rain is falling even when the cold has numbed me so that I can scarcely feel.
