Written Sunday, November 10, Evening
It gets dark early in Kayenta. Perhaps it’s the beautiful mesas towering above us, blocking the sun, but at 9 minutes to five it already feels late. The clouds are thin, spreading like gossamer across the sky, and the sunset is turning colors, blinding us as we drive back to Mesa View Baptist Church where we are sleeping for the night.
Once again, I am left unplugged from the internet, from the rest of the world.
We are sitting in the fellowship part of the church with our blow-up mattress made up after a visit to McDonalds for coffee, feeling cozy and warm next to the still warm wood burning stove. What I love about coming here is how I am forced to be unplugged from the world and all it’s allure.
Even the signal is weak at McDonalds (19 miles away). My phone’s internet can’t grasp anything except a hazy wi-fi. So I turn it all off and sit here to reflect on the day, read, and enjoy the relative quiet of being four hours from home.
I am reading another chapter of Carla McDougal’s, “My Prayer Chair.” Her statement on page 52, “But what if we changed our thought life into a prayer life,” resonates with me. It’s not a new idea. I pray via my thoughts, having a regular conversation with the Lord throughout the day. I thought-prayed this morning all the way to Kayenta. I wanted what I would speak at their church to be from the Lord.
Today, I spoke to Mesa View Baptist’s English speaking Sunday school class about how being a believer changes you. I talked about my testimony, of false religions, and how there is only one way to Christ—through the cross. I reconnected with friends I had met on my last visit here and enjoyed more of the pastor and his wife’s company at lunch. I thought-prayed for old and new prayer requests. Once again, the people I met taught me more than I taught them.
Like how telling testimonies at church are powerful and life changing, and how you don’t need music to feel God move in a congregation. The naked Word is a powerful elixir. I mentioned to them how James 1:2-3 reminds me of them. They “count it all joy” when they endure trials. The veterans shared their testimonies today, and I am reminded of how they suffer. I heard amazing stories from the battlefield of God’s rescue. Carla reminds me how God may not always rescue us in our situations. But there’s something to be said about suffering—suffering grows a believer.
Today will stay with me again as long as the last visit stayed, and I want so badly to find a way to simplify my worship life. I love the service here. It’s powerful in its simplicity. And staying the night at this church forces me to remain still—something I don’t do very well. There are no radios or television. No internet.
But this week, it’s what I needed.
I needed to get away and to be still; to listen to what God is trying to say; to rest.
Oh, Lord, how holy and wonderful You are, and how small I am.
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