So anyway, I came into this a bit apprehensive, knowing that the brunt of the work that we would be doing here would be women’s ministry. And Monday had me feeling really discouraged when my group of women didn’t open up to me right away. Down came the weight of my insecurities on my shoulders—I can’t relate to other women, they’re never going to talk to me, I don’t have the right words to say, why am I even here?
But day by day, as we prayed for them and with them, they began to open up to us. As we shared our stories with them, they began to share with us. When we studied John 13, they allowed us to wash their feet like Jesus did, and then they wanted to wash ours.
As I knelt beside them washing their feet, I imagined all of the places that those feet had walked—through unspeakable things, the beauty of this country and the horrors of their past. These women are so beautiful, so strong, so poised.
And we laughed together. And suddenly it wasn’t just me trying to relate to a group of women I’ve never met, but it was a group of friends sharing life together, even if it is just for a week, and even if we don’t speak the same language.
Last night during evening devotions, I got to listen to a room full of rescued girls as they sang “You’re a good, good Father” when they don’t have a father on earth to run to, and “your love is devoted like a ring of solid gold” when they’ve never experienced that sort of love from anyone on this earth.
God is so sufficient. In the places where I fall short, He spans the difference. In the times when I’m lost for words, He fills in the blanks. And He is sufficient for these women and girls in ways that I have not yet grasped. They know Him with a depth that I can’t imagine because they’ve walked through things that I have not had to, and still found Him to be everything He says He is.
I think we can all stand to learn something from these women by allowing God to be enough.
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