I arrived back in Burundi at the end of January, after a glorious time being refreshed by friends, family and supporters in Kansas. As I prepared to leave the US, I was asked: “What are your prayer requests?”
My responses, though expressing valid, and needed, requests, somehow felt standardized. Pray for relationships. Pray for discernment in ministry. Pray for the Burundian people, in the midst of very complex circumstances. Pray for their deep hurt and despondency; these people are beyond worn out.
At 30,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean I filled the time with movies, podcasts, intermittent sleep, and airline food. Then I took some time to worship and pray. I needed a new, fresh prayer request.
My heart circled on the word respond. The King of Kings gave up his throne to walk among us and show us the way we should respond in all situations. I prayed to follow his example.
Then my mind began playing out specific scenarios, preparing my response:
If I’m trying to get a visa and that happens, then I will say this.
If I need to access a common resource, then I will be prepared to do this.
If I have to set a boundary with that friend, then I will act like this.
Is this what God wanted? I stopped my mind from spinning, and reassessed. God, I prayed, Let me respond in the fruit of your Spirit, with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.
Arriving at the Burundi airport, I moved quickly through immigration, collected my baggage, and scurried to the final station to scan my suitcases. There I was told to pay a tax on personal items I was bringing into Burundi. This was new. I was frustrated that my exit was being delayed by a tax on items I had already purchased, and my exasperated response made it clear to the official that I was not happy. After ninety minutes of arguing, I complied with the request and exited the airport.
Later, I was disappointed in myself. I didn’t respond well. Less than thirty minutes on Burundian soil and I had failed in my resolution to respond with the fruit of the Spirit. Dang!
God is showing me that the desires of my own heart are to make sure I’m seen, to fight for my rights, to cater to my own view of justice, to get my way. It doesn’t feel good to admit this.
Lord, I relinquish the selfishness of my own desires, my own responses. Help me to yield instead to your desires and to your responses. Pour out your presence; fill me with the overflowing power of the fruit of your Spirit.
This is my prayer request.
