Views from the Kitchen Sink

When we moved into our unfinished house three years ago, we didn’t have a kitchen sink. Once one was finally installed three months later, I remember declaring that I would never complain about washing dishes again. This declaration was made as I said goodbye to my trusty blue bucket and marveled at the new stainless-steel double basin and the lovely view before me. One thing accomplished and checked off the to-do list!

Yet, if I’m honest and reflect on the past few years, our life doesn’t feel particularly successful. Our house is still very unfinished, our two adoptions haven’t been completed, we haven’t visited family in four years, work permits and passports always need to be renewed, ministry has its struggles, and malaria invades our home too much. I see more failure and struggle than success. Since installing our kitchen sink, our view has also been a reminder that any success we do have has been very slow going.

I’ve washed dishes while overlooking dirt piled high, empty yellow jerrycans, scaffolding, and remnants of building materials still strewn all over the place. Our life has resembled more chaos than calm as we’ve navigated building a ministry, home, and family from the ground up, in the middle of a pandemic, surrounded by the Ugandan bush.

I’ve washed while captivated by yellow weaver birds building intricate nests, woven tight to the tree branches dangling in front of me, as the birds gather one strand of wild grass at a time. I’ve washed while waiting on certain documents, discouraged by delays, and uncertain of future plans. It’s a long and tedious process. The unknown and waiting season is tiresome.

I’ve washed as fires spread across our land in a fury of crimson and saffron, turning grass to ash, raining gray over all that was green. Loss feels heavy, like a thick blanket laid over an already weary, dry-season ground. A marred masterpiece of grieving, loss, and aching. A lamenting for something that’s missing, something destroyed, or something that’s been taken.

I wash.

I rinse.

I repeat.

Some days, failure seems to be in abundance. Geckos are found in the printer again, bees have invaded the ministry office, and waiting on NGO renewals is beyond frustrating. I stress about the chunk of wall that just crumbled when my daughter pulled the curtain too hard. We battle squirrels, rats, snakes, mice, and bats trying to invade our home. Homeschooling can be a bust with attitudes, a lack of patience, or the unfortunate event of there being no coffee beans in the house. The water heater exploded over a year ago and still needs to be replaced.

We just can’t seem to get ahead of anything.

Yet, Paul encourages us in 2 Corinthians 12:9–11.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weakness, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (NIV).

God’s grace is sufficient for our failure and weakness.

For when I am weak, he really is strong.

And through relying on his strength, I can begin to see something more than failure.

Success is there, in the middle of creating. It’s in the pioneering of something new. It’s in the excavation, in a sturdy foundation, and in the chaos of construction. It’s in perseverance, digging deeper, and rooting further into him.

Success is there in the slow and tedious growing, one long day at a time. It’s in waiting something out, praying for an answer or direction. It’s in bittersweet reflection and in the unfolding of the Lord’s promise. Even if it takes a really long time.

Success is there in the ache of grieving. It’s the encouragement to press on despite the resistance. It’s in lamenting through losses while still holding onto hope. It’s there as you process a life of continual transition. It’s there when you find yourself transplanted or when you are asked to remain while others move on.

Success is walking in the way of the Lord even when things don’t outwardly look successful. It’s there when you hold fast to the Lord regardless of your situation, your struggles, or your pain.

As I surrender my failures and place them in the Lord’s hands, they become a space for potential like the fertile ground I’m now overlooking. The yard is flooding with another downpour of heavy rain. I can feel the mist and wind whipping as water begins to seep through our uneven window frames. This view is truly beautiful, even in its intensity. Lush green is overtaking and new leaves are budding on the tree branches leaning low, as I wash more dishes. It’s a task that always needs to be done.

We wash.

We rinse.

We fail.

We succeed.

We do it again and again.

His grace is sufficient for you and for me.

His strength is made perfect when we are weak.

Our success is achieved through obedience to the Lord.

And in choosing to follow him in whatever or wherever he leads.

How does your view of failure keep you from seeing success in your life? In what ways do you see yourself succeeding as you serve the Lord even in hardship and failures?