It’s 3pm on Thursday afternoon, and I’m lying on the bed in my hotel in Battambang. This has been my first rough day of this trip. I have a headache, and I feel a little sick to my stomach. Andy and I spent all morning playing with the kids, and now we’re taking much needed a mid-afternoon rest. I’m beat.
Today I feel like one of Jesus’ disciples on the day He fed the 5,000, pre-miracle. “Give them something to eat,” He said. “How are we supposed to do that? We don’t have anything for them,” they said.
Like the disciples, I find myself forgetting who I’m working for, and what he’s capable of doing. I focus on my own resources and on my own abilities, and I look at the hungry people and start to panic.
There’s never quite enough money. Never quite enough energy. Never quite enough mental capacity to remember all of the little details: names, dates, dollar amounts.
Sometimes I feel very strong, very capable and very much at the top of my game. Today I feel like the game is moving just a little too fast for me. Tonight, I’m hoping to catch up. I’m praying I’ll be filled up. The kids are planning a special assembly tonight. There’ll be dancing, singing, skits and ice cream.
I pray I’ll be fully present. I want to just soak in God’s goodness reflected in the smiles and songs of the kids. I want to trust Him to provide and believe that He is in charge. I want to see Him do some sort of a miracle, some sort of a multiplication of resources. I want Him to take center stage and take both the glory and the pressure.