I'm ready to...rest?
My heart is ready. My body is prepared. My soul is longing to serve in different, unique ways. Doing construction based work on a small team in a small town working with teens in the Adirondack mountains? Count me in. While there were some personal challenges to overcome during training, I never thought I would be coming back to Kansas before August.
We arrive on site, and I immediately notice that something just doesn't feel right. I thought it was just due to exhaustion. I press on, because I'm ready. I'm ready to get to know this community and love on them in whatever ways and tell them the gospel first with my actions, then with my words. I'm so ready.
The hours go on, and I notice myself growing sicker and sicker.
Nope, press on. I'm ready.
I notice that I only feel extremely sick while at the place we're staying and where my workspace is at.
Ignore it. I'm ready.
It wasn't until making a phone call home that I find out what the cause of my illness is.
Nope. I'm here. I'm ready. I'm making some good headway with relationships in the community and have made more phone calls and set up more meetings than I could have ever dreamt.
It wasn't until calling a friend and telling her of what's going on that I realized how serious this could be.
Maybe, just maybe..I'm not ready to continue on.
Hold up God, I don't understand. No no no, You need to tell me why this is happening. Nope, I'm ready to serve.
I continue to fight, to press on, because I'm ready. With every minute I spend in the building, I'm growing sicker. At some points, having to lay flat on the ground outside with my arms above my head to get some deep breaths.
I'm...ready.
I grow weaker and more ill. It was simply my passion for the Great Rescue Mission that kept me going because physically, I had nothing left.
I. Am. Ready.
My last night in the Adirondacks was the worst. I just continued to get sick. We had eaten dinner earlier that night with a community family, and I had absolutely no appetite. After being back in the building for two hours, I was the sickest I had ever been.
It was then that I decided, I wasn't ready.
After extensive prayers and many tears, I booked my flight.
I booked my flight without any clue of where I would live, where I would work, or who would even pick me up from the airport.
The next morning, I cry from the time I get in the car all the way through my first flight. I was crying so hard in the airport, TSA brought me a therapy dog.
God, I just don't understand. I was ready.
God, You're providing. I mean, You've provided me with a place to stay for a bit and a ride from the airport. But God, this isn't what I was ready for.
God proposes the question, "Ashton, are you ready to rest? Are you ready to rest in the place in which you are uncertain with everything other than my sovereign ways? Ashton, I'm so much greater than your sorrow. Ashton, I'm grieving with you but please, rest in my Truth."
God, I'm ready. I'm ready to be at peace with uncertainty with the certainty that You are good.
God, I'm ready to rest in Your strong embrace.
We arrive on site, and I immediately notice that something just doesn't feel right. I thought it was just due to exhaustion. I press on, because I'm ready. I'm ready to get to know this community and love on them in whatever ways and tell them the gospel first with my actions, then with my words. I'm so ready.
The hours go on, and I notice myself growing sicker and sicker.
Nope, press on. I'm ready.
I notice that I only feel extremely sick while at the place we're staying and where my workspace is at.
Ignore it. I'm ready.
It wasn't until making a phone call home that I find out what the cause of my illness is.
Nope. I'm here. I'm ready. I'm making some good headway with relationships in the community and have made more phone calls and set up more meetings than I could have ever dreamt.
It wasn't until calling a friend and telling her of what's going on that I realized how serious this could be.
Maybe, just maybe..I'm not ready to continue on.
Hold up God, I don't understand. No no no, You need to tell me why this is happening. Nope, I'm ready to serve.
I continue to fight, to press on, because I'm ready. With every minute I spend in the building, I'm growing sicker. At some points, having to lay flat on the ground outside with my arms above my head to get some deep breaths.
I'm...ready.
I grow weaker and more ill. It was simply my passion for the Great Rescue Mission that kept me going because physically, I had nothing left.
I. Am. Ready.
My last night in the Adirondacks was the worst. I just continued to get sick. We had eaten dinner earlier that night with a community family, and I had absolutely no appetite. After being back in the building for two hours, I was the sickest I had ever been.
It was then that I decided, I wasn't ready.
After extensive prayers and many tears, I booked my flight.
I booked my flight without any clue of where I would live, where I would work, or who would even pick me up from the airport.
The next morning, I cry from the time I get in the car all the way through my first flight. I was crying so hard in the airport, TSA brought me a therapy dog.
God, I just don't understand. I was ready.
God, You're providing. I mean, You've provided me with a place to stay for a bit and a ride from the airport. But God, this isn't what I was ready for.
God proposes the question, "Ashton, are you ready to rest? Are you ready to rest in the place in which you are uncertain with everything other than my sovereign ways? Ashton, I'm so much greater than your sorrow. Ashton, I'm grieving with you but please, rest in my Truth."
God, I'm ready. I'm ready to be at peace with uncertainty with the certainty that You are good.
God, I'm ready to rest in Your strong embrace.
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