If you ask any of my friends, one of the things I'm best known for is my ridiculous stories. It's not just that I'm a gifted story-teller, but I genuinely have the most ridiculous things happen to me on a semi-regular basis. So if the story of how I became a missionary lacked one of those stories, well, we could probably assume that it wasn't actually my life. So here is my crazy story. It's how I got the courage and confidence to turn in my application.
It was mid-October. I had prayed up quite a bit at this point and was fairly certain God was calling me into missions. However I liken myself to Gideon at this point. I even think I recited his story back to God one time when I was praying: "You know God, I remember that guy Gideon of yours. He asked for that silly sign with the fleece and you did it to confirm his calling. You wouldn't mind throwing me a bone like that would you?" And this was one of those prayers although I meant, I didn't really know that God would answer. Because it seems too much to ask a sign of Him, the Almighty God of the Universe.
I was at a retreat at a camp with my college group, Standing in the Gap. We were having an hour of alone time with God. The night before I had really wanted to canoe and almost took a group to the middle of the lake but we couldn't find any paddles in the dark. This desire still burned into me so I decided I'd grab a canoe and meet God "upon the waters" if you will. I paddled all the way across to an island that was at the other side. It was windy and wavy and the journey was hard, but I had this determination. If God wanted me to work, I was going to work for Him. I'd strive, I'd labor as long as I could be close to His heart. Throughout this process, I found myself thinking even though the road to becoming a missionary would be a hard one, it would be worth it as long as I could be close to His heart. At the other side, I stopped. I read a Psalm. Then I decided to head back so I'd be back before the hour was up and people started worrying (since it's so much harder to predict travel time in canoe).
But more than ever, here is where my adventure really started. Remember the wind and the waves? Well, maybe on my way out I should have paid a little more attention to just how windy it was. As I tried to paddle back the wind was so strong, I could make no progress against it. After 20 minutes of relentless paddling, I was about 15 feet from where I started. My arms were already getting close to worn out, because of how hard I had to paddle. And I had about 90% left of the lake to go. Obviously it was time to revise my plan a little.
What I decided next was I would just paddle to the nearest shore. I would need to ditch the canoe but we could always walk around the lake and go back for it. And I would at least be able to follow the lake back to the camp. After a bit of struggling, I got to a dock by the shore. It was at this point I realized I had no rope to tie my canoe up. Okay, time to revise the plan again because I'm not losing a canoe on these people. Nearby I saw a pile of logs scattered in the water. I decided if I jammed the canoe in there it would at least not run away on me. So with my expert canoeing skills, I jammed it.
Unfortunately I was still about 10 feet from shore and I couldn't tell how deep the water was. Nor did I really want to wade in water anyway, since it was October in Michigan. It was then I noticed these weird fungus-y lily pads leading up to the shore. I have never seen something like it before and I doubt I will ever see something like them again. But God was providing for me that day. I stepped on each lily pad and although I sank a little, and sometimes I lost my footing and fell off, I got to shore a lot less wet than I could have been. It was during that ritual God spoke to my heart this message though, "Kacie, you say you want to adventure with me, but you forget something. It's my adventure. I get to define the terms. It won't always be pleasant or easy. But at least, we'll get to be together. But remember my adventure, my terms."
To recap, I was now exhausted from canoeing. I was almost wet up to my waist from wading through the lily pads. In front of me was one of the steepest hills I have ever seen. Seriously it was almost straight up. I had no idea, in my state, how I could ever climb it without just slipping and falling back into the lake. So I walked alongside it for a while, knowing eventually I would have to climb but looking for the ideal spot. All this time I was also having some pretty heavy, inner-dialogue with God going on. I was probably complaining more than I should, but I was also acknowledging how desperate I was for His help even in this next step. And marveling at some of the ways He had provided and lead me this far. It was as I was marveling that I saw quite the sight on the side of that hill. At one part, there were almost 20 fallen trees arranged in a perfectly linear fashion leading up the hill. Just like a staircase. So I went for it. I ran up this staircase and behind me these trees crumbled. I felt like Indiana Jones. But I know that staircase, those trees that had fallen, was something God had put there just to show me how He provides for me. God, the provider, gets another point. Which is good because going into missions one of the biggest things that could have stopped me was not trusting in God's provision.
I now started following the edge of the lake back to camp. From my understanding of lakes, I knew that as long as I followed the edge I wouldn't get lost. But then I hit it. Embedded on the side of the lake, which I couldn't see before, was about a 30 foot channel. There was no way I could cross it. I figured it maybe went just a little into the land and I could go around, but after searching there was no luck with that. So I began to ask God for help again. In my desperation, I started knocking on the doors of houses looking for directions at the very least. But alas, the whole area was filled with summer homes and being mid October, they were out of commission for the season.
Finally I saw them. A little old man and lady raking their yard. Thanking God, I went up to them the cold, shivering, wet pitiful mess I was and asked for directions on how to get to camp. The old man let out a little laugh as he told me it was about 8 miles to get to the bridge that connected the two sides. Eight miles! Thankfully he took one look up and down me before offering a ride. The man and I drove back in his truck. I shared with him my adventure, my predicament, and the things I had been thinking about that afternoon. But more importantly I was able to listen about his grandchildren, his life, his hopes and dreams. That ride became such a blessed part of the adventure. I had not only needed God's help that day, I had needed others to bless me with their generosity and God had put this man there for that purpose. I know the same thing is necessary in my ministry, but this reminds me it's a blessing from God for both of us and I need to allow the body to bless me and look to bless them in return. And something that was especially cool was his wife and him
had only come up that weekend to close up the cabin for the winter. Talk
about God's provision.
I had arrived safely back at camp. And seeing God's provision, His goodness, His faithfulness, and hearing without a shadow of a doubt His call, I knew I was now ready. To trust Him, to trust others, to bless and to be blessed. But most importantly to follow Him wherever He lead, even if that was into missions.
To my friends: Life with God is supposed to be an adventure. It's supposed to be exciting and real...and you're supposed to be in over your head at times. But there's great joy in doing that adventure with God, in following His voice where He calls, and even stepping out into the waters amongst the wind and waves as long as you're with Him. I pray we'd all learn to say as Moses did: "If Your presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here" (Exodus 33:15) and choose only to adventure with our Lord and Savior.
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