Wilkins Sep 2018

“Those who seek the Lord shall not lack any good thing” (Psalm 34:10).

Dear friends and family

There have been days and years and moments when I’ve held onto this verse for dear life. I dreamed of being someone who lacked no good thing. And I saw “lacking no good thing” as lots of money, a perfect spouse, a Pinterest-worthy home, and some imported car with leather seats. It’s laughable now that I’ve traded my dreams of expensive cars for a beat-up, decades old, Toyota Prado and dreams of piles of money for deep relationships and hard work that matters.

I recently read an article on Revelation and the streets of gold in heaven. Jen Wilkin writes,
Heaven is a first-is-last place where the things we have exalted will be cast down to the level of their real worth: as mere metal and stone, as mere human authority, as merely created lights that move at the command of their Creator. Heaven is a place where precious metals and stones are trodden under foot as common road dust, where our crowning personal honors are cast at the feet of God, where the people and objects and institutions to which we have ascribed our worship will fall from their lofty places. It is a place whose inhabitants at last obey the first commandment, “You shall have no other gods before me.”

Father, on earth as it is in heaven.

In the last two years I’ve gotten a glimpse at some of the things that the Father calls worthy. I’ve seen truth flourish, I’ve seen excellence be carried out, and I’ve seen fruits of the Spirit grow. I’ve experienced joy and love and hope abundant. I have lacked no good thing.
Reading back over my journals from three years ago and then two years ago as I was preparing to come to Zambia I’m brought back to that place where my only desire is that the Lord would use me however He sees fit. Six months ago, my prayers and journals were filled with the same cry. Once again, the same faithful Father answered. In fact, although whispered almost 10,000 miles apart, in large part the answer was the same—“Go”. Three years ago it was, “Go [to Africa]” and six months ago it was, “Go [to the States]”.  Although I’m older now, (possibly) more mature, definitely more surrendered, the gut wrenching “Go” never gets easier to hear.

The question was the same two years ago as I was sitting in the airport in Denver thinking it still wasn’t too late to back out. The question is, “Will you be obedient?” And so I ask myself that question again. Am I willing to go where the Lord asks? Am I willing to uproot and disentangle my life, to say goodbye to the children and my home and my church and my friends? Can I do it? For the sake of the gospel can I do it? And the answer has to be yes. There’s no other option. There never has been.

When I laid down my life it was a once-for-all thing. It wasn’t conditional and it wasn’t revocable. Sure, just as a living sacrifice does, I’ve hopped, scrambled, rolled, and run off the altar a few times, but each morning I drag myself back up there and say—Lord, your kingdom come, your will be done. And whatever you have for me next week and next month and next year, I trust that it is good. I trust that with you I will lack no good thing.
So as I prepare for my transition back to the U.S. I want to thank you. I cannot possibly thank you enough. Thank you for giving and praying and enabling me to do work here—GOOD WORK. PROFITABLE WORK. MEANINGFUL WORK. ETERNITY-CHANGING WORK. Thank you for encouraging me, for fielding phone calls and emails and messages on days when things were hard. Thank you for saying you would pray and meaning it. The Lord’s work in Zambia is only just beginning. I am so grateful for the work that the Lord has allowed me to do here. I’m grateful for each minute and second and conversation. I’m grateful for the mundane and the adventure, the joy and the suffering, and everything in between. Man, change is hard, but obedience is always worth it.