When All You’ve Got is Nothing, There’s A Lot to Go Around.

I’ve been baptized before, but this time was different.

It was done by my contact, Johan, and my best friend, Nickolas at dawn. It was a windy Malawian morning, and the sand on the beach was flying everywhere. It was chilly, and the waves were rough, but the sky was stunning, like a watercolor, like the world we live in was God’s canvas, and the water was warm. It was almost as if the Lord was welcoming us into His presence. It was such a beautiful thing.

I came out of the water, beaming, feeling new, and pure, and confident to live my life as the new Caitlinn. To live my life as a ministry; so excited to do what’s in my comfort zone and give all I have to camp this summer, and to do what’s out of my comfort zone and go to college, and venture on into the journey of life that the Lord has mapped out before me.

Ever since then, shockingly, I’ve been struggling with being at Zehandi; feeling like my time here is starting to get tedious, wondering if I’m actually making a difference, or if I mean anything to any of these people. I’m not homesick, or angry, or consumed with thoughts of food or clothes – nothing like that. I love Africa, I love this trip, I love my squad, and I love these people. My heart is just…. Restless.

And in realizing that, I was suddenly frustrated with myself, and with God. Why am I feeling so over this? Why am I not blissfully happy like I was before? I thought I was called to live exactly like this in the middle of Africa for all of my days and never desire anything else? Why was Africa my biggest dream in life and where I wanted to spend all the life I had in me and suddenly I’m just flat-lining through?

I was talking to Bekah about these things that I’d been questioning God, blatantly confused as to why I, of all people, the one who’s always had a good attitude and loved it here, was suddenly discontent. Wasn’t I called to Africa? Didn’t God set it on my heart? Wasn’t this supposed to be my home? During my questioning, she told me this. “I think you thinking Africa is your home is you putting God in a box. I think His plans for you are bigger than just that – I think He means for your home to be the whole world.” Boom.

After I was baptized, my team and Nick prayed over me. Johan had told me “my friend. When they pray for you after, you must listen closely to the things they pray over your life. It’s very important. They are praying for your calling.” As closely as I listened, all I remember hearing is “this girl is going to change the world.” And when I told Johan that, he smiled, laughed a little bit, and shook his head like he knew something that I didn’t.

A few nights later, Christy, Nickolas and I ended up spending the night in a hostel in Lilongwe. (I wish there was some possible way to explain to yall African public transportation, but there is just… no words.) Late that night, I was telling Nick “I don’t know why it’s me, of all people, who’s supposed to change the world. Like…. In comparison to my team. Ellen Hudson is the powerful, elegant leader who sees the Lord in everything as it is. Christy is so wise, so bubbly and funny, and so incredibly good with discipling people and pouring into them. Bekah is the most servant-hearted person I’ve ever met, and people and children and drawn to her. Caroline is the friendliest, most compassionate girl, with the ability to love with crazy abandon. Alison is so loving, so friendly, so amazing, so funny, everybody and anybody falls in love with her. Tiffany is the most strong-willed, driven, passionate people lover you could ever have. Everything I have to offer this world pales in comparison to all the beauty they have to give.”

Nick, the incredible leader that he is, and the incredible friend that he is, and the incredible man of God that he is, responded, in his now faded southern drawl, with something that went like this: “But Caitlinn, that’s the beauty of redemption, and grace. You don’t have to have anything to give. All that you need to be is an open, empty vessel, and the Lord can use you to change the world. He will too, and that’s such an honor.”

I would like to let everyone know – I’ve learned that on my own volition, I can do nothing to change this world, help anybody, do anything at all. If I want the world to be changed, I have to empty this body of everything that is myself and allow the Lord to fill up every crack of my existence. And that’s FREAKING hard. So. Freaking. Hard. Because I’m selfish. And angry. And sometimes, I just want to eat Nutella and Hummus and pita and fruit and if I have to look at another piece of Nsima I want to die. Sometimes, I don’t want to wear a long skirt and a nasty, dirty, faded v neck, I want to wear ripped skinny jeans and a clean black tank top, wear make-up, look in a mirror and pluck my eyebrows. Sometimes, I don’t want to walk to get water, I want to stand under a hot running water shower for 3 hours and never once move. Sometimes, I don’t want to walk three miles to Senga Bay, I want to drive my car, and blast the radio, and be completely away from humanity. Sometimes, I don’t want to share 300mL of Pineapple Fanta between seven people, or let anyone else have a spoonful of peanut butter.

But then I remind myself how, more than any of those things – I want to see life through Heaven’s eyes. I want to be broken, and empty, and filled. I want to love and live with reckless abandon. I want embark on the crazy adventure God has in store for me specifically. I want to bring His light and hope to His children, and I want to hear their stories and to write. I want to participate in the worship always going on around me. I want to be a blank mind that the Lord gives His eyes to, and I want to see the world as my canvas.

The world IS my canvas, and I’m opening my life so I’ll be ready to paint.