Changes of Perspective

So I am starting a little over my 3rd week in America after spending a month in Uganda, Africa on an ORU Missions Trip. 

A part of me feels like it never happened, then another part of me feels like it was just yesterday, and then a part of me is still there. That sentence makes me look like a crazy schizo, but coming back to America even after being only being gone a month is culture shock, and in ways a much harder culture shock to deal with. 

This was my first mission trip. My entire life (not kidding, entire life), I have dreamed of going to Africa on a mission trip. Or simply going somewhere out of the U.S. on a mission trip.  I remember in elementary I would verbally abuse the Missionary kids in my church because I was burning with jealousy with the life that they got to live. I was stuck being content with playing in my backyard for kicks while I had to hear them complain about how they have to go Indonesia and how that place wasn't nearly much fun as Jakarta and bla, bla, blah. Of course now I realize that they had difficult lives and often struggle for a sense of identity, and while I wanted to be anything but normal, it was all they desired. Either way they still got a mouthful from me, and I probably didn't help them very in there self-identification processes when we were all children. Not proud of that. (Some of them did have it coming though, just being honest! :)

In high school I had my hopes broken every summer, my church or some other organization would print out their flyers or people would be telling me about the short term mission trip that were  going on that summer. I'd sign up for the programs, and get all excited by hearing my friends tell their stories and I would pray and pray and pray. Then I would spend a day and half mentally planning and preparing myself how I was going to break down the plan to my parents and every year it was the same. We don't have the time or money. Not hatin on my parents in the least, because it was true. Of course, though, me being an awesome teenager who knew everything I would "show them", I would prove them wrong! I don't need their help! I'll make the money myself! I laugh at myself now because I realized I was trying to go on "mission" trips out of spite.

Anyway the background is to let the reader understand how incredibly excited I was to go to Uganda. Because I waited and was respectful to my parents, I believe I got a double portion of blessing on this trip for me. I was placed in an amazing country in Africa (remember, my dream place), placed on an amazing team who I see no less than family now, and God moved so much there. God moved in me, the team, the contacts, it was incredible. I put my whole heart into this trip, into these people, into my team, most importantly to God.

And now its over. Like that. Its like, "Have the experience of your life David! Ok, its over, now, go lead a normal life and get a summer job!" Reality set in about 2 days ago. I'm back in America, and now my focus is on God, my family, my job, my friends, until I get to go back to ORU. I still can't believe its over. Its fun to tell people about it, but they don't get it. No offense, but if you have never gone to Uganda, Africa on a mission trip, you don't get it. Its not a bad thing, just a fact. I now understand in a tiny, miniscule way how hard it was on the missionary kids when I was little. They had amazing experiences and stories to tell (whether they wanted to have them or not), but no one would give them the time of day, or the others just couldn't understand. I saw amazing things in Uganda. I did amazing things in Uganda. Uganda was amazing. God is amazing. Amen. 

And what am I doing now? Working at an office for the summer. God blessed me with a great job with amazing people. Sometimes I think to myself, I'm standing at a copy machine but less than a couple weeks ago I was praying for the hurting in Africa, and climbing mountains going to remote villages. How can life go back to normal? Why would I want it to go back to normal? Then I get a reality check. God honored me by letting me go. Now its my turn to honor Him with where He placed me for the rest of the summer. There are definitely hurting people in Texas. Too many. God can move in Texas just as much as He can in Africa. Every where I am is a mission field. From a simple encouragement to leading people to Christ, doing my part everywhere I am and obeying the voice of the Lord will help me process the trip, and continue to grow spiritually in America.

I do notice somethings have changed about me. I think I'm quieter.  I haven't got quite as much to say. Or I'm just learning that I don't need to say everything. I find myself not really wanting to go out as much, a quiet night with the family is fine. I'm more sensitive to the world. I saw a movie the other day that I would normally love, hated it. Senseless violence is, well, senseless. I I can't really enjoy secular music too much anymore. I'd rather listen to worship. (Amen for ORU Worship on the IPOD!) Not that there is wrong with secular music, and 300 rocked most guys' world. Just not now. 

All I know is that I'll dutifully serve where God has called me to be, at the same time I can't wait until ORU. 

Also,

I'm addicted. To missions. To traveling. To layovers. Most importantly, addicted to witnessing people being set free all over the world.