Please Don't Wait For Me

Summer was always my favorite time of year as a kid – a beautiful season set apart for rest, sun, and beach adventures.  Now my seasons are all mixed up, and this summer has become an odd jumble of travel, weddings, working random jobs, planning, and catching up with family. 

I spent the first half of my summer visiting friends in California, one of the places I currently consider home.  While borrowing a friend’s car and driving down the 57 freeway, I had this sudden feeling of something I hadn’t felt in a very long time - normal.  Honestly, there is very little about my life that feels normal at this point, but for a moment - just a brief moment - I had a flashback to my old life.  I was temporarily suspended from reality and felt like I’d time-traveled back to the days when I lived in my cute Orange County apartment, had a stable job that never left me wondering how I would afford life, had tons of friends living close by, and attended a church that made my soul happy. 

Yet suddenly, I snapped back to reality and felt the unsettling weight of what I’d lost.  My visit to California was just that – a visit.  I had to remind myself that my normal life was gone.  I loved my former days living in California and mourned that loss as it hit me all over again.  I loved living near beaches with some of the best waves in the nation.  I loved surfing with friends and having bonfires every summer.  I loved the diversity of people, cultures, and food.  I loved the stereotypical, laid-back California attitude.  But most of all, I loved my amazing community of friends.  I loved their laughs, their depth of character, their generosity, their kindness, and their unceasing encouragement.

Tempted by thoughts of returning to my former life, I considered my options.  I could either move back to California, or I could continue on the path of missions.  Invitations to stay in Orange County were abundant.  I was offered several enticing living options.  Friends assured me that they could help me find a cheap car if I moved back.  I had old employers with job openings.  Every selfish part of me wanted to turn my back on the mission field and stay in California forever.  It would be so easy, so fun, so personally satisfying. 

However, with selfish reluctance, I turned down the offers of a place to live, a community to be a part of, and a car to buy.  As I prayed about the next step, I knew God was calling me back overseas.  Knowing I was making the right decision, I said no to every offer and decided to take up a different one…

About 5,000 miles from Southern California, there was a very unique opportunity calling my name.  In the middle of the Pacific Ocean, Iris Ministries just opened a brand new missions base on a small group of islands called The Federated States of Micronesia.  There, my former leaders from the Iris Latin America journey are currently preparing to run a training school for missionaries.  The Micronesia school is a continuation of the school I attended in Mozambique three years ago.  Its main purpose is to create communities of like-minded people who share the same heart/vision/mission.  These groups will dream with the Lord together and be launched to nations around the globe following the school term.  Iris Ministries hopes to send people to all corners of the earth (including my love, Africa) where they will remain for long-term projects.  

The Iris Micronesia school leaders asked me to take a position as an unpaid staff member – initially not the most tempting offer.  Yet, as I thought and prayed, I knew this was my next step in missions.  Though I’ve traveled quite a bit in the last couple years, my deepest desire has not changed.  My dream is to be planted in Africa, working alongside a dedicated community of believers with a heart to rescue children and foster healing in their lives through Christ’s love.  The missions training school in Micronesia will give me an opportunity to follow my dream and become part of a team who wants to do this together.

I’d be lying if I said the season following the school doesn’t scare me.  Though the school itself is only two months, the commitment to a long-term project afterwards could be years, decades even.  Though the love of Africa has been in my blood for years now, the reality of moving there long-term never ceases to scare me.  Africa is far.  It’s unpredictable.  I don’t know how I’ll afford it.  I will never blend in.  It’s just not easy.  

While thinking about my future, I landed in a familiar, bittersweet place.  It is there that I am often met with a mix of excitement and peace, but also sorrow for what is left behind.  One morning, I was listening to the soulful song “Don’t Wait for Me” by Josh Garrels, and I instantly related to the lament in his voice:  

Please don't wait for me/I lost my way again

I lost my job, I walked away/From the life that I was leading with my friends

When I was young I dreamed/Of a life that had freedom, that had joy

Oh life, it crushed my soul/With its cruel demands and fool's gold

Please don't wait for me/I lost my way again

I lost my house and my good name/When I found the road of my king

When I was young I dreamed/Of a life that had freedom, that had joy

But now I lost my life/For the one I dreamt of as a boy

Please don't wait for me/I ain't coming back again

I cannot turn around/From the place I'm going to where I've been*

As I listened to the lyrics, my heart reluctantly agreed with the words, “Don’t wait for me.”  The song croons, “Please don’t wait for me.  I lost my way again…I walked away from the life that I was leading with my friends.”  Oh, how painful it is to walk away from that life!  The life I was leading with my friends was a great one.  I miss it.  However, “I cannot turn around from the place I’m going to where I’ve been.”  It’s true.  I’ve seen too much now to go back to where I’ve been.  Sometimes I selfishly wish I could un-see some of the things I’ve seen.  But there are images burned into my mind that I can never erase: bloated, malnourished bellies; people missing lips and noses because rebel soldiers cut them off; tiny children begging for money and food on the streets; sick children wandering around camps for displaced persons; people literally living in garbage dumps.  Once you’ve seen these things, it’s impossible to not do something.  I can’t go back to where I’ve been. 

Garrels sings that he lost his way and lost his life when he "found the road of [his] king."  I know what it's like to find this road.  It can be a lonely road.  It can be a misunderstood road.  It can be a trying road.  But it's the only road to ultimate beauty, peace, and joy.

As much as I loved my old life and still miss it, there is nothing more satisfying or worthy than the life to which God has called me.  Even though I sometimes feel lonely, scared, or discouraged, deep down I am so truly thankful that I have found the road of my king.  As hard as it is, I am thankful for the unique calling God has placed on my life.  I will not waver in chasing the dreams the Lord has given me.  I know I am following the right road.

I distinctly remember attending a concert in Orange County a few years ago where the singer was trying to raise money for World Vision.  Before he sang, the audience was shown slides with statistics about orphans.  Several photographs of African children were displayed on the screen, and my heart almost beat out of my chest.  I knew those children were meant to be my family.  I knew that continent was meant to be my home.

I happened to bump into an old friend at the concert, and he told me that he'd just landed a new job in L.A.  I'll never forget his words that night.  "The job is hard, but I know it's where I am supposed to be."

And in that moment, I knew - as much as I loved California and as much as I treasured my life - I was not where I was supposed to be.  God had called me to the developing world and to a culture not my own.  Africa was and still is in my blood.  I could only have fun with my friends and enjoy the beach for so long before my heart would burst with sorrow for ignoring the path God had called me to.  I could ignore God's voice forever, but it would eat me alive.

If I had a dollar for every time I heard someone say, "There are poor people in America, Caitlin," I would have enough money to pay for my next flight overseas.  Yes, I am very aware that there are poor people in the United States.  In fact, there is great need everywhere - among both the poor and the rich.  There are "mission fields" everywhere.  But it's about finding "the road of my king" and figuring out whatever that means for my life and for your life.  For some people, the road of the king does look like staying in their home states, countries, and cultures.  For one of my friends, the road of the king looks like cleaning teeth in Orange County and praying for her patients.  For another, it means working in Parliament in London and spreading God's love to wealthy government officials.  For some of my friends, it means living in the inner city and hanging out with drug addicts and prostitutes.  For others, it looks like working in Hollywood and being a light in a very dark industry.  But for me, the road of my king looks like cocoa skin and bloated bellies.

So to my old life and my selfish ways, "Please don't wait for me.  I ain't coming back again.  I cannot turn around from the place I'm going to where I've been."

*Garrels, Josh.  "Don't Wait For Me."  Jacaranda.  Small Voice, 2008.  CD.

Link to song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQKhD5j3mU0