Who Takes Care of You?

“So, who takes care of you?”

I was sitting in my parked car, waiting to pick up one of the girls from her counseling session when a friend walked over to talk to me. In my lap I had my MacBook (a gift from my La Crosse friends--a constant reminder of their love), and a binder full of receipts was displayed on the drawer of the glove box. Missionary life calls for a mobile office, even if it means my car.

After making small talk and asking about the ministry, my friend then dove right to his point.

“You take care of many people and many things. So who takes care of you?”

“Good question,” I chuckled, unsure of his angle. The laugh also came from the irony of hearing the exact question I’ve asked God in my moments of loneliness. I’ve prayed numerous times, “God, when are you going to send someone to take care of me?”

His response was always the same: Beloved, I Am Enough.

“I mean, the demands of a ministry like this must wear you out. There’s so much emotional baggage you probably carry. I had done counseling in the past but I had to stop because it just emptied me and exhausted me. I’m sure you face those same feelings.”

“Oh indeed I do,” I sighed. In fact, he had no idea how right he was in that moment. The spiritual battles and emotional battles we fight on behalf of the girls and ourselves can be exactly as he said—emptying and exhausting. Here is an example of last night:

After reading through Acts 16 during Bible study, we pulled out a main theme about slavery vs. freedom. 

In chapter 16, Paul casts out a spirt in a slave girl. This slave girl was calling out after Paul, yelling, “These men are the slaves of the Most High God!” After the girl is set free from the evil spirit, the owner of the slave girl is enraged and puts Paul in prison—another enslavement. When an earthquake shakes the prison and the chains fall off, the guard, imprisoned by fear, takes his sword to kill himself. Paul stops him and the guard asks to receive salvation—freedom.  Usually slavery has negative connotations, but not here. Slavery usually means a spirit of powerlessness. Not with Christ. A slave of Christ means a life bound to freedom! A life not powerless but powerful! So, using this message and theme we entered a meditative part of worship where I asked the girls to picture their prisons, the dark places where they don’t want to go, the things people have done to enslave them. Then I asked them to picture the earthquake like in the Scripture reading and God setting them free. It was surely a Spirit-filled worship night, as the Holy Spirit had uncovered the theme in the moment and then gave me wisdom to direct the girls into the time of meditative worship. As we closed in prayer, I felt the Spirit say, “Don’t leave without walking them through what they just envisioned.”

But it was late. I was with Lora, one of our interns, and she hadn’t eaten all day except breakfast. I wanted to drive back early enough so she could get dinner and so I could get home a decent time. But who can say no to the Spirit?

So Lora and I called a few of the girls in our room, one by one, to hear about their prisons and help them sort through the message of freedom.

Wow, was I in for a surprise! What I thought would take no longer than one hour to talk to thirteen girls to simply check in and pray for them ended up taking FOUR HOURS and we only got through six girls. The girls whom I thought were doing very well were the ones who had some of the hardest, obstinate spirits, hiding from their pain and hiding from themselves. In those four hours, we uncovered some very deep hurts, some great revelations, some hard questions and painful moments. Some comments were as follows:

“I don’t want to be here. No one wants to be here. Everyone wishes they could be with their families. But we can’t have our families!”

“I wish to forgive my mom.”

“Tonight, I pictured my mom’s face. I’ve never met her because she died when I was a baby. But I saw her picture,” tears rolled down her cheeks. “I wanted to be with her.”

“I can’t be sad. It’s not okay to cry.”

“I’m not deserving of love.”

“Where was God?”

“I can’t tell you my secrets.”

“Nobody loves me. Everyone makes me angry.”

“I feel like I abandoned my baby.”

“No.” The immediate response to any question, “No.”

The constant themes through these four hour battles: Silence. Shamefulness. Guilt. Worthlessness. Isolation. Unforgiveness. Fear of rejection. Walls, walls, walls…prison walls.

But all walls come crashing down at the sound of Jesus’ name. Several times in talking to certain girls, Lora and I could visibly see the spiritual battles—in her eyes, in the way she hung her head, in the way she laughed when it was inappropriate to laugh, in the way she initially refused to take off her hood and be seen, the way she refused to talk…We had to stop several times in mid-conversation and pray outloud for Jesus to come and break the chains and repulse satan. At one point, I literally muttered, “Jesus, make her cry.” And finally she did. And finally, the walls crumbled! And finally, we all had victory that night in amazing ways!

But just as a soldier is exhausted after battle, especially a victorious one, so too we were exhausted. As I got in bed past midnight, I sent my mom a message to ask for her prayers, knowing I’d need some extra help, some extra fuel for the next day. And, as always, she responded with incredible words of wisdom, encouragement, and most of all, the prayer of a righteous woman, which is powerful and effective.

I smile with warmth at my friend in front of me—a friend who took time out of his day to come and ask me if I’m being taken care of. And that in itself showed I’m well-cared for.

 I finally answer him, “God takes care of me. Like right now, by sending you to me. I don’t have one person who looks after me. I have many, and in that way I am blessed beyond the care I deserve. God takes care of me in so many different ways and through many different people.”

He smiles. “Okay, I see. God is enough.”

Unable to put into words the Truth of that statement, I beam, reflecting on all the ways God is Enough.  How does God take care of me? Let me count thy ways…  

1)    Reconnecting with an old student and talking to him seriously about coming to Swazi on a short term mission

2)    A friend who began this Swazi journey with me 8 years ago, sent me a VERY large chunk of money when he found out someone had stolen my bank card info and wiped my entire account to the last penny. I couldn’t believe how adamant he was about getting me money, and it was God’s way of telling me directly, “Kate, you have nothing to fear. I’m taking care of you. Even in moments like this.”

3)    Physical touch and words of affirmation – my two love languages. I sat down on the couch at the girls home to close my eyes for a moment’s rest and soon I am joined by four girls, cuddling up to me, playing with my hair or giving me a back massage. It’s like spa day every day.

4)    Kisses from Benji when I tuck him in at night. “Good night, my prince,” I say to him. “Good night princess,” he says back.

5)    Early morning mass with Benji and Lu and their excellent behavior. And Lucia now mimicking when the priest prepares the communion table. At breakfast, Lucia put a flat piece of paper over her cup and lifted it up saying, “The body of Christ.”

6)    This AMAZING weather! It’s summer here, but I ache for fall in the States, because it’s my FAVORITE, and it’s like God knew I needed a week of fall here, so He gave it to us! It’s been cool and breezy and even cold at night so I can still sleep with a blanket!

7)    Speaking of fall… fall means football. And for the FIRST time, I taught the girls how to play football!!!!! It was one of the best days all year. SO COOL how in one family we have enough people to play 7 on 7 game of football!!!!

8)    A Swazi friend slipping me extra cash to help lessen the sting of my stolen account money

9)    Mashed potatoes. J

10) Lucia picking flowers for me and leaving them as a “surprise” on my dresser (which then included a surprise of bugs as well)

11) Receiving post cards from my friends

12) Getting a package from mom who sent me a pair of skinny jeans (which I would’ve never picked out for myself, but wow they look good! Nice work, Mom!)

13) DANCING! That's also probably a love language in itself. I could dance all day, every day. Especially when we listen to Lecrae. I like to pull up to the house jamming to music, and when the girls hear it, they all run out and we have spontaneous dance parties and worship parties. They fill me every time. 

So, who takes care of you?

The King of Kings and the Lord of Love. He is Enough.