I’m Coming Home, but My Ministry like this is Not Ending.

September 2021

As we pulled off the main road onto a dusty side one that looked as if it cut through the mountains, my level of excitement intensified. The terrain changed rather quickly and before we knew it, our buses were tracking on a dried river bed, and towering over us on either side were the canyon walls. We hadn’t even arrived at our yurt camp just yet, but the drive was affirming that this place was, in fact, a gift from God.

Rounding that final turn in the way before us, we caught our first glimpse of the beauty of the southern shore of Lake Issyk-Kul. We could see for what felt like forever, but when we looked with enough desperation, we saw the glory of the snow-capped Northern Tian Shan Mountains on the other side.

At the time we didn’t know this, but Issyk-Kul boasts in its placement as the seventh deepest lake in the world and the tenth largest. I’m not convinced that this bad boy isn’t home to the Leviathan, but don’t @ me because I never actually got to see it. Haha

Unloading from the busses, we took in the beauty of the world around us and recognized, again, the kindness of God to give us this location for this week, our 24/7 prayer burn. Our full squad, including our mentor, set out from the capital of Kyrgyzstan, Bishkek, following our month eight debrief to be together for one week to pray and worship and ultimately beckon the glory of God to fall on our hungry hearts.

The week unfolded and we took the days moment by moment, hoping that this might never come to an end. We worshiped with Bluetooth speakers, sat in silence, I led with my guitar a little bit, we read and studied the scriptures, we recounted the goodness and faithfulness of God, we learned to lament and to mourn for the brokenness of the world, we shouted the names of God at the top of our lungs, and we pursued the presence of our Holy God with fervency and desperation. We knew what we wanted and we refused to let go until He gave it to us. That was special. So special.

March 2023

As nearly a year and a half has passed and I’m currently back in Kyrgyzstan preparing to move into the next season, I’m reflecting on how impactful that week was not just for my Race experience, but for my whole life.

Among the various types and styles of worship with which we engaged the Living God was one that should have been most natural to us as followers of Jesus, but it may have been the most challenging to the majority of the room. We prayed; however, we didn’t just take turns praying and we didn’t just pray for five minutes here and there. Our mentor activated us into an hour of prayer out loud, every person at once and on our feet. Initially, I remember this feeling burdensome to me, but as I began to praise the Lord through gratitude, supplication, and intercession, I realized that He was multiplying my prayers. There was not a moment in those sixty minutes that I was unsure what to pray for and, to me, that felt like a miracle.

I was caught off guard a few times when I realized what I was asking of God and would make a quick note to ask Him more about that later on, but unfortunately, most of those ideas got lost in my wandering thoughts. However, one particular prayer continues to echo through the corridors of my mind and I can’t seem to let it go. I was praying for revival, but specifically, I was praying for revival in Vancleave and I believed that God was asking me to be a part of this awakening, which was odd because I haven’t given much thought to the possibility of returning to my hometown in Mississippi since moving away to attend university in 2014. Additionally, at the time of the prayer burn, every member of my immediate family had relocated to cities surrounding Vancleave, so I really had no reason to think about it. However… to make a long story short, my dad moved back and has an extra bedroom in his house, and leaving my family for these last six months on the field was more difficult than any other, causing me to reconsider my plans to relocate to another country long term as soon as I possibly could.

While I was squad leading P Squad, I didn’t really struggle to find contentment in my present placement but eventually had no choice but to look forward as my window of time began to shrink. You’ll never believe it, but all roads seemed to lead home, as in the United States. God has grown a big ole heart for the unreached in me and I struggled for a bit to find satisfaction in the reality that He might be inviting me back to the United States, but soon enough, I decided to obey and committed to returning home. I’ve had a few different opportunities pop up since I made that decision, but none has felt right to me and then I remembered that word from the prayer burn.

“Revival in Vancleave.” 

On multiple occasions this year, I’ve been approached by friends who had a similar thought to share with me that they believed to be from the Spirit, and though the wording for each one was slightly different, the context remained consistent.

“Your ministry like this is not ending.” 

Each time that I received that word, I’ve been filled to the brim with hope for what God is inviting me into. Unfortunately, there’s a stigma surrounding reentry onto American soil that requires a lifestyle change for those that have been active in cross-cultural ministry for extended periods of time and I’ve given too much thought to what that must look like before I embraced the reality that the Lord may not actually intend for me to re-immerse myself in that way. I might even be so bold to claim that this very same expectation is held over those that take part in a short-term trip. Before my years on the Race, I was under the impression that lifestyle ministry, one filled with coffee shop meetings, living room revivals, and street evangelism, belongs to the folks that are called by God to relocate to a foreign land. If I wanted to work for Jesus in my home country, I’d have to do that by becoming a pastor or joining a non-profit, or simply living out my faith in my preferred occupation. Don’t get me wrong, those are all incredible options and I’d count it a privilege to serve my Lord in any of these capacities, but my wondering is whether or not this is what God intends for me and the life that He’s given me to steward.

I had convinced myself that the hopeful encouragement that I’d received ensuring me that my “ministry like this is not ending” couldn’t be applicable until I would make the decision to move long-term to another country someday in the future. In any case, I do still aspire to do that, but for now, I believe that in the same way that Yahweh called Ezekiel in chapter three of his book to “the house of Israel rather than a people of foreign speech and a hard language”, He’s sending me home to my own people to “Prophesy over these bones, hear the word of the LORD.” (Ezekiel 37) God is breathing life and is releasing a wave of awakening over the Mississippi Coast and He’s inviting me to take part, so with that, I’m coming home. 

At the time that I’m writing this, I honestly don’t know the details of what this will mean for my day to day life and to be completely transparent with you… I don’t even know that I am seeking to be traditionally employed. My deepest longing is to walk in radical obedience to God and I am willing to do whatever it takes to experience the fullness of the life that He intends for me.. Even if it means not having a steady income. I believe with my whole heart that He wants to teach me that His same providing hand that has poured an overflowing cup for me while I’ve been on the World Race will care for me just as tenderly while I surrounded by the comforts of my western abode. He IS my Father of abundance and I’m thankful to know his nature and his character in a way that allows me to feel comforted by this strange move into dependence.

Praying for revival in Vancleave a year and a half ago was totally perplexing to me and I was offended that He would even think about sending me back there, but in this moment as my eyes are locked with those that belong to the Lover of my soul, I can’t help but open my mouth and with a thrill of hope exclaim that I would be greatly honored to serve my King in this way. Here I am, Lord. Send me.

I’m coming home and “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion—to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified. They shall build up the ancient ruins; they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.” (Isaiah 61:1-4 ESV)

I love you.

AWM