I Will Go ... Or Stay

The words of "I Will Go" are resounding in my mind...

But I am realizing that "I will stay" can also be part of the spirit of dedicated service that Christ asks His servants to have in order to be entrusted with a call to go somewhere where complete faith and trust are needed. Not that we don't have to have those attributes when God says stay. Far from it - I think I need them more.

I was supposed to return to the Middle East to work for the summer. To the day of my departure, every door has seemed so wide open and God's direction has seemed so clear. A prayer I had prayed in March was answered. I had prayed for a ticket to return and God provided a fully paid way overseas. I had a job and a mission to fulfill. 

I was only home for one night and two days in order to pack after my time in Michigan and before leaving. I hadn't realized how hard it was going to be to say goodbye to home and family for seven weeks after having not been home in over six months. I prayed that if it wasn't God's plan for me to go that He would close the door. Most of this prayer seemed selfish, as I spoke that night with tears of pain for leaving my home I love so much.

June 19 found me on a 6:00 am flight to Denver, where my first of three international flight departed from. About 7:00 am, somewhere between Washington and Colorado, I began to sweat uncomfortably in my nice exit-row seat. I made it to the lavatory, feeling suddenly nauseous. A severe wave of dizziness interrupted my unsettled stomach. My incredibly Norwegian pride prevented me from raising my hand to push the call attendant button; but my fatigue probably would have also prevented such a taxing physical movement. After what seemed an eternity, I managed to muster strength to return halfway up the B-737 to my seat. I slouched back into my seat, too exhausted and strange feeling to resume conversation with the oil engineer I was seated by. Thank God for window seats.

By the time I reached Denver, I was shaky, warm, still nauseous, and had throbbing aches in different locations of my head. Thankfully the engineer pointed me in the right place to get to the my train to my terminal. As I feebly walked to my Air Canada gate, I called my parents, expressing my concern about my sudden sickness and fear for the long flights ahead of me - 24 more hours of travel and the fear of a two-day stomach flu that I seemed to have caught while at a family wedding the past weekend. My SEAL Team7 team in Michigan was praying for me and the choice I was facing to continue or to return home; my family was praying. My heart was incredibly split. I had to walk to the kiosk and attempt through a voice broken by tears of sickness, exhaustion, and emotion to tell the German Lufthansa ladies who were operating the Air Canada flight that I was possibly not getting on the plane due to a sudden flu onset. My bag was laid aside until I made a final decision. My amazing father was in Spokane, making calls to my travel agent to see what would happen if I didn't go on. When he called me again, I must have sounded terrible. I was told, "Cami, you need to come home." I couldn't respond. My heart was so confused. My heart has been left in the Middle East since I was there earlier this year, but my body wasn't doing well. Nor did it seem fair to risk a bad sickness in the air, leaving me exhausted and exposing hundreds of passengers to my sickness. I couldn't risk that. I agreed to come home. I couldn't believe my ears as I said "okay". My foggy mind wasn't registering that I wasn't going. But as "Martin, Cameron" was paged in my gate while the final boarding was taking place, I had to let the airlines know I wasn't getting on board. . . I felt no shame as I cried and cried, watching my bag being wheeled from the plane under the airport below me. Something seemed so wrong. I wasn't on my plane. My friends and family tried to tell me things would be okay, but what fevered brain is quite rational, even to spiritual counsel? Seeing this plane leave was incredibly hard. I was faced with such a controversy of acceptance of God's timing...

My travel agent secured me a flight an hour later back to Spokane. I had to trace my steps back to the train and to my first section of the huge airport. My feet drug. I had to find customer service for United Airlines to find out how to get my bag back to my flight. That didn't happen, but at least I had an idea of what to do once I got to Spokane. . . Jamba Juice was soothing. I was thankful for something fresh and healthy as well as settling. I got on my flight and slept as I flew the two hours home. My parents expected me to be hauled out of the airport on a stretcher or something, but I was walking. At their house in Spokane, I crawled under the covers of my sisters bed and slept. All this time, I later discovered, my bad was en route to the Middle East.

Maybe I was exhausted. I had spent the entire weekend before leaving traveling by train from Michigan to Minnesota to a wedding, running around the Chicago Union Train Station, and getting from the Union Station to O'Hare to fly home. And I'd just been in a beta beta summer program working as the team chef as well as normal canvassing and health work. Before this month I'd taken many difficult finals after a long and tiring semester at Weimar College. I was tired. I was emotionally unsure before leaving. But my heart was willing to go or stay. I had prayed so much. Was this a closed door or an obstacle?

I tried rebooking. My flight was only 2/3 refundable, so no longer was my ticket "free". But I wanted to be where my heart felt called. I would have left yesterday... But by this time I was only going to be working for a month - not the 2-3 that I was wanted over there for. It was decided that I would be better off finishing some summer schooling this summer. That settled my decision to not rebook - which was not an easy choice.

I've learned some much through this experience. I've prayed more than I ever have before. I've seen God work - opening and closing doors and working in my heart to be willing. He's been working to give me a spirit of willingness. 

But, as Christ has kept working, I still feel regret for not going. When my luggage returned with the Middle East Airlines "Expedite bag" tag on it and my final destination on it, my heart seemed to break again. I just finished reading updates from friends working over there right now who I was supposed to be with. I've shed tears. But once again, God just comforted my heart with the realization that I opened this blog with. The words of Jeremiah 29:11 also echo in my experience:

For I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.'

I will Go or I Will Stay

This is the prayer I yearn for, but I am learning to substitute some new words. 

Give me ears to hear Your Spirit
Give me feet to follow through
Give me hands to touch the hurting
And the faith to follow You

Give me grace to be a servant
Give me mercy for the lost
Give me passion for Your glory
Give me passion for the cross

And I will go where there are no easy roads
Leave the comforts that I know
I will go and let this journey be my home
I will go
I will go

I'll let go of my ambition
Cut the roots that run too deep
I will learn to give away
What I cannot really keep
What I cannot really keep

Help me see with eyes of faith
Give me strength to run this race

I will go Lord where Your glory is unknown
I will live for You alone
I will go because my life is not my own
I will go
I will go
I will go