June Twelfth

Sunday was more of the same. We walked through Barnet on our way to church, a 24 year old version of myself, muted by the events of the last few days.

Meredith asked me how I was doing. I never have an answer for that question. I cannot express it. It is no longer that I’m not opening up; it is simply that I have no idea who I am here now.
All the major events of my past occurred in this place.

I followed the path to Jesus here. This is the garden where the seed was planted.
I surrendered my life to the ministry in the Neasden Temple.
I gave my heart to missions on the road to Green Street.
Kent and I parted on the platform of Dalston Kingsland.
I met with Mark on the corner of Piccadilly Circus.
I spent my afternoons in Wood Green pouring my life into Turkish and Urdu.
I learned what it means to be relational here. I learned who I was.
I found the girl I thought I’d lost.
Where will she go when we return to the mountains? And how can I answer Meredith’s question?

We left for Watford, hoping to spend some time with Michael for the evening… to follow up on lasting questions. It was time to talk through family life and faith. We did dishes and swing-danced around the kitchen, laughing over attempts at flips. Michael talked more individually to each of us, focusing on Mandie. He is keen to learn more about his religion. He wants to pray five times a day… to be more faithful in his life with God. He wants to learn the Bible. I asked him whether he would ever have the time away from work, in order to really give it the time needed. Work was not the issue for him – it was freedom.

Michael is not free. He is not free to go from this country. He is not free to make his own decisions about the future. He is not free from the bondage of his religious culture. And yet…

There is something there. There is something that reminds me of our Turkish friend Deniz. Her passion, her drive to see her people come to faith. I believe that, like her, God will keep him in this country until he believes, and then he will be gone. There are too many circumstances, too many miracles, to view it any other way.