Mighty to Save

Recently, I went on a trip to the Philippine Islands. This trip was huge, in many ways, to me. First of all, I joined a team of 17 or so people that I had never met, except at the meetings. The last time I participated in something when I didn’t know a single person was in third grade—when I moved to Indiana. I was excited to form new relationships; however, I was slightly terrified. Dear goodness, I came away from the trip with amazing, new, solid friendships!! I love my trip companions with all of my heart, and I am extremely grateful for them. We shared stories, testimonies, worship, concerns, prayers, jokes, and so many fun experiences. But I could go on and on about them.

Second of all, it was my first trip overseas. And let me tell you, it was phenomenal. I loved every part of living in another culture—I didn’t even mind “showering” with a bucket of frigid, cold water! I loved the food; in fact, my next baking endeavor will be attempting to make delicious Pan De Sal. I definitely loved the sun, but most of all, I came away with a great love for the Filipino people.

The people. I love them. Most of me wishes I was still there, among the ones who stole my heart. These beautiful people blew my mind. The kids we worked with for VBS had next-to-nothing. They lived in the slums—much like the ones shown on Slumdog Millionaire (which is an incredible movie). Despite the lack of worldly possessions, the precious, adorable Filipino children came running, full force, to both VBS sites at which I served. However, they didn’t just come running; they came running with beautiful smiles stretching wide across their faces. And they came with open ears and hearts—ready to listen to us.

On the first Monday, after VBS, some of the team split up to go to different slum areas and pass out milk and vitamins and lead a Bible Study. My group that day was Ryan, Darice, and Dominique. Now, I had seen what the slums look liked from the outside, but going inside them was a completely different story. It was like walking into a cave of a massive number of complexly interconnected, tiny rooms. The rooms, which were actually “houses,” with approximately one whole family per room, spread forward, to the left, to the right, and upward. My heart broke. I was dumbstruck by the way those people have to live. And they actually pay for it. It is devastating. So, God did what I asked him to do—he broke me, by showing me devastation that I cannot understand. Now, what can he possibly teach me from that?
Torn between understanding that God has a reason for placing those people there and questioning him as to what in the world he is doing—I chose the latter. God, how in the world could you allow your created people to live like this? I could not understand—for the duration of both weeks. It is still hard for me to understand, but I will get to that, in a bit.

While there, I was able to share the Gospel with many kids, and some even accepted Christ. Hallelujah! Right? I should be ecstatic with that right there; however, I was worried. I was worried that after I left, the kids would forget what they learned; they would forget about Christ’s love for them despite their dire conditions; they would turn to worldly things; and they would not try to stay faithful God’s commands. After all, they are just kids. Will they even remember what we taught them?

Since being back, I had really been struggling with this concept. I felt that God showed me the desolation and devastation in these peoples’ lives, and he left it at that. My eyes were simply opened, but I hadn’t learned anything. In one of my classes, one of my professors asked me what I learned, and I didn’t really have an answer. I said that God had actually just done a lot of showing me things I never imagined. He opened my eyes to a real, existent, and distant world. As I didn’t want anyone to think I was a bad Christian for not learning anything—because of course, you have to learn something about God from everything—my safe answer was, “I am still processing most of what I saw.” But was I? Was I really processing what I saw, or was I still chewing on the fact that a Sovereign (keep in mind my usage of “sovereign” here) God would allow his children to live that way? I knew the truth.

So, feeling depressed because I wasn’t with those kids, making sure they stayed on the “Christian” track, and feeling a bit irritated with God and the way he works, my days after the trip were mundane and probably lacked a Christian attitude towards life.

Then, this past Tuesday, in chapel, we sang a song called, “Mighty to Save.” Most people know this song. It is completely overplayed in worship services, today; however, I still love it. I love it every time we sing it. So, naturally, my eyes lit up when I heard the band begin to play the intro to the song. As we sang it, all I wanted to do was stand at the top of a mountain and scream those words at the top of my lungs. My heart was pounding, and tears were trickling down my cheeks. Then, I thought about it: Do I really believe this? Do I really feel this way right now, that God can move the mountains, and that he is mighty to save? Or am I just caught up in the rapture of the moment? Am I just caught up in the power of the words combined with the music combined with the voices and the lifted hands?

As I pondered that for a short moment, I understood what God taught me from my trip to the Philippines. I hadn’t believed that God is mighty to save. I hadn’t believed that he can move the mountains, at least not after what I saw in Manila and Bulacan.

But at that moment, as we sang about how God is mighty to save, the light bulb lit up.
Now, I love imagery and lyrics that depict Christ conquering death, and the hope that Christians have because death has been defeated. So, my favorite thing about this song has always been the line, “He rose and conquered the grave.” But as I sang it this time, the line, “Savior, he can move the mountains; my God is mighty to save,” is what struck me. Sure, I have always loved that line, because of its truth, but this time it was true to me in a new way.

I realized right then, that God can move the mountains. God is, indeed, mighty to save. I taught those kids to the best of my ability. I prayed for wisdom when I taught them. I tried to show them Christ’s love as best as I could. And for the ones who got saved, I emphasized and emphasized that we need to continue a relationship with Christ after we are saved. And I explained different ways to do that. And now, I continue to pray for them. But that is all I can do right now. In fact, I cannot control whether or not they stray away from God; I cannot control whether or not they strive to live the “Christian life.” It is not up to me whether or not they develop and grow a relationship with Christ. I did what I could.

Now, I have to leave it up to God, which is exactly what I had been struggling with. But why should I struggle with that? Did I think God couldn’t handle it? Did I think he would forget about those kids?

Apparently, I did.

Singing that song, that I have sung countless times, I realized that what those kids do now is not up to me. And that drives me crazy that I can’t stay in control of the situation.

But if I believe in a God that can literally move the mountains with a word, with a breath, with a thought, how can I believe that he would forget about those people—let alone anyone? How can I sing that God is mighty to save, but yet not be able to entrust the lives of others to him? Why, on earth, would I ever believe that I could do a better job than God in helping those kids? I understand now, that God is indeed Sovereign enough to help those kids. He is, of course, mighty enough to save them. Never in a million years, does God actually need my help. He just chooses to use me.

So now, I understand that God showed me that devastation, those dire living conditions, I understand that he broke my heart, to teach me how to trust him again. But not only to trust him with my life; I needed to learn again that I am not in control, and I need to trust him with the lives of others. God is Sovereign, and he is mighty to save.

I can trust my feeble, weak self, or I can trust in a God that moves mountains. Wow.