*The following is written by a former intern who spent a significant portion of her time with Hannah House Ministries.
I intentionally played Jesus music whenever I picked her up. Once I even started singing under my breath the words to “Amazing Grace/My Chains are Gone” as she told me about her soulmate Death. A broken, pregnant girl with no home, no friends and no hope. Without fail, every time I met with her she would tell me something new, harrowing, and utterly heartbreaking, and yet, when I talked about Jesus or offered to pray for her (aching for her to experience an alternative abundant life she could not comprehend), she persistently resisted and even visibly bristled.
Then one day she told of her own volition, “I think I’m starting to understand.” And she let me pray for her.
That was my last interaction with this girl. I don’t know what will happen to her. There is still so much uncertainty in her life. Nothing so far has changed for the better. She still has no home and no resolution about her baby and though there seems to be a softening to spiritual matters, I don’t know where that will lead. And yet, through this seemingly unresolved mess, I am left with a glimmer of hope. Every single seed sowed in faithfulness is utterly, absolutely priceless and essential.
When I applied for the CLDI internship I wanted to make sense of some hard things that go along with being a missionary kid. For so long my family labored in a place where fruit was scarce and far between and where seeds planted were often seemingly lost among thorns, or rocks, or quickly snatched away. Where was God in the midst of this? Didn’t He care? These are questions I have wrestled with as I have seen my parents toil and I wonder if all their faithful labor has been in vain. I’m learning that we are so finite and impatient. And God’s work is so vast, expansive, and long-suffering. I’m learning that God desires me to participate in this divine work He is doing and His allowing me to catch a glimpse into eternal things is powerful and a privilege. Having this Kingdom perspective means I don’t feel entitled to witness instant results or get demoralized when things don’t go exactly how I expected them to go, but instead, I learn to be open-handed and grateful for however God chooses to move and work. I don’t doubt for a minute that God isn’t capable of doing great, amazing things in the blink of an eye. I don’t undermine the power of bold prayers. But I know that He also chooses to work using the mundane, seemingly trivial, and faithful processes that so often take more time than we would like. Yet, in His kindness towards His prone-to-doubting, frail children, He also allows us to catch glimpses of what He is doing and I am grateful for these tastes of goodness and promises of hope.