After I wrote part 2 to “A Season of Waiting” I didn’t expect there to be a part 3. I really expected to arrive back in Ghana and at the snap of my fingers have everything figured out and settled.
But that didn’t happen.
And three months into living in Ghana & now 16 months into waiting …the answers are still unknown. And there are even more questions now. There is no end in sight. There aren’t even a list of possible outcomes…because it’s just that unknown.
I am a natural born leader and have been since as long as I can remember. Everyone who knows me well would agree. Even people who don’t know me well tell me they would agree.
I can take problems and figure out steps towards answers.
I can examine assignments and assign responsibilities to the most well suited people.
I can look at complicated tasks and lay it out in a way that all involved understand their roles and how they contribute to the situation.
All of those things are second nature to me. Being a natural leader is a beautiful gift that I am so blessed to poses.
But being a natural leader also comes at a cost.
I need to look at problems and lay out the answers and 5 plans of attack.
I must list all the possible outcomes and know how to react to each of them.
I have to know step 1, 2, 3, and step 1a, 1b, and 1c.
I like to micromanage situations and outcomes.
A micromanager + a long, grueling season of waiting = a recipe for disaster.
And some days it has felt exactly like that, a disaster. A spinning out-of-control cyclone. The fiercest roof-pounding rainstorm with the loudest ear-shattering claps of thunder and blinding flashes of lightning.
You see, this season of waiting for this specific situation is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. This is one of the first times in my life where the situation is completely and totally out of my hands. There is literally nothing I can do to produce an outcome, or quicken the pace. I have done all that I can. At the current moment, there is nothing more I, Rebecca, can do.
And it is most difficult, stressful, and debilitating place to be. When you are powerless, you feel weak and drained and devastated. You feel like a defenseless failure.
But it is the most beautiful, glorious, and perfect place to be.
It look me being stripped away from all my natural born leader micromanaging skills to fully, 100%, completely trust my God. When you are put in a situation where you are immobilized in every sense of the word, you truly realize who has control of all situations and outcomes.
16 months ago when this season began, I didn’t really know God. I knew of Him. I knew of the Bible. I knew Sunday School memorized verses. I knew of a structured religion with strict rules.
But I didn’t have a relationship with Him. I doubted Him, put Him in a box saying He could only do this and that, and I rarely believed that He knew better than me. I thought that I knew myself, my problems, and my solutions way better than He ever could. I put all trust in myself.
And now, almost a year and a half later, this journey has been forcing me to put all my trust in Him. It took me being stripped of all the power I thought I had, to learn who God really is. And more than just who He is, but just how much He loves me and how He truly knows best.
When you are uncovered, unprotected, and unguarded the deepest and weakest parts of you are exposed. My over-controlling, self-trusting, authority-reining self was out on display, and let me be the first to tell you, it was not pretty.
So this season of waiting, has turned into much more than a season of waiting, it has turned into a season of relinquishing control. If I would have not been rendered powerless by the circumstances and situation, I would not know Him in the way that I know Him now, and I definitely wouldn’t trust Him in the no-holding-back fashion that I do now.
This season of waiting is not over, and I’m not sure when it will be over. But this season of waiting has birthed a season of letting go, and letting God…and I hope that season never, ever, ever ends.