Yesterday, I was talking with a friend about ministry, particularly the idea of whether or not we should expect to see the miraculous in ministry and what it means if we do not. It was interesting visiting the subject as it made me take a step back and evaluate where we've been the past 3 years since arriving in Peru.

As the conversation continued, I made the observation that if we aren't seeing the power of God all over our ministries, then I think we are doing it wrong. But that doesn't just mean seeing miracles either.

Around ten years ago while I was in college and trying to figure out what direction I would go in life, I started praying very specific prayer. I told God that I wanted to be in the thick of something impossible. I wanted to be living in a situation that was so beyond me that He would have to be radically present or I would not make it.

Maybe it's a touch of narcissism that makes me want the greatness and grandeur of living radically. Of wanting to see the miracles. Of desiring to be in a position that requires God to "show up." Or maybe I am just nuts. Because last night I had a good laugh at myself when I realized that God has done exactly what I asked - only in a way that I hadn't exactly meant.

Looking back on the last few years, I think it's not unreasonable to say, "I really shouldn't have been here." When we arrived in Peru, I was a mom of 3 under 2 in the middle of a major depressive episode. I was a complete and total wreck. Daily, I was pleading with God to just let me go home. It was too much, and I couldn't handle it. And daily, I felt the firm reply, "No. There's grace for today. Press on." It was only obedience that kept us in Peru much of the time.

And now I realize that was exactly what I had asked for, sort of. To live in desperate and daily need of God. To be fully convinced that without His very real hand on me, it just wouldn't work. I just expected that it would be around me, not in me.

Now, I feel like I am going through a transitional phase. The kids are older, the village is no longer terrifying, and I am emotionally and psychologically stable. While maybe my need for God is not going to look the same (maybe I can actually get out of bed and function without divine intervention), I think the whole experience has whetted my desire not to live in safety and ease. As we are slowly transitioning from language/cultural studies into actual teaching and ministry, I want to remain at God's mercy. I want o be completely confident that I cannot do it on my own, and if I am, then I am doing it wrong. I want to be like Peter. I want to be one who steps away from the safety of the boat to start walking on something that I have no business being on. To have to have my eyes fixed on Jesus lest I sink and perish for daring to try to accomplish anything on my own.

As I continued to reflect on this whole concept, I remembered this amazing message that I heard ten years ago and, funny enough, I had brought the CD with me to the village. I popped it in this morning and was struck again by this part: "You cannot find security in what God is doing because He commits you to the impossible; He asks you to see the invisible; He calls you to do the outrageous. There is no security in that place. There is no security in what God is doing. There is only security in who God is."

It's so true. There is nothing comforting in what God is doing. It's always unexpected and always beyond our ability to understand. But His character never changes. He is always faithful and kind; He is always good and patient, full of mercy and compassion. His character is where I have to rest. Though I have no idea what He is going to do in a given day, week, or month, I am absolutely certain that He is trustworthy. And really, if He is all that, living on the edge is not such a scary place to be.