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Belonging

Emma Patterson1 Comment

“There’s no place like home…”

Dorothy Gale was on to something when she uttered those words in the land of Oz. But what if there is no place that feels like home?

On a recent visit back to my first home, someone told me, “I’m not going to welcome you home… I know this isn’t your home anymore, but I’m so happy to see you.” I know these words were shared in kindness and with an understanding of my new situation, but I couldn’t help but feel grief. In that moment, I was forced to face my new reality – I am a stranger in the place I have always considered home.

Returning to life overseas, I no longer feel like a “fish out of water.” The unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells that once overwhelmed me now feel commonplace. What once felt impossible to navigate has become familiar. No matter how at home I may feel, I’m always aware that I’m an outsider. One could say I am “comfortably different.” An alien in a foreign land.

Have you ever been in between shoe sizes?

(This may sound like a random question, but just bear with me for a moment)

I’ve spent most of my adult life with feet that are too big for one size and too small for the next. I constantly debate which problem is worse – suffocating my toes or slipping out of the heel. Nothing fits exactly right, so I decide which issue I would rather live with and do my best to make it work. Sometimes, as the shoe molds to the shape of my foot with each wear, the discomfort slips away like a distant memory.

This is what it feels like to live abroad – life between two homes.

A stranger in a homeland and a foreigner in a familiar place. Two homes, yet not fully fitting into either.

That tension — of living between places and identities — is not a new experience. When Peter wrote his letters to the persecuted church, he addressed the exiles or strangers scattered to the four winds. People displaced from their homes, not by choice but by persecution.

I may never fully comprehend the experiences of someone forced to flee their home, but I do understand the feeling of not belonging – most of us do. I think this is why Peter focuses so heavily on our identity. At some point, we will all grapple with belonging.

But there is a holiness in learning to live humbly in places that are not fully ours.

To receive hospitality instead of entitlement. To listen more than speak. To understand rather than assume. To seek peace rather than comfort. To find joy in the mundane. To love without expectation.

All of us – as Christ followers – are strangers in this land. Our faith was never meant to make us comfortable residents of earth but hopeful travelers moving toward a perfect kingdom.

In the midst of our discomfort, we must cling to the truth.

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his possession, so that you may proclaim the praises of the one who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”  1 Peter 2: 9-10

Who we are is not defined by where we live or where we come from – our identity is defined by our Maker.

Our Savior.

Our Cornerstone.

When I feel out of place, I cling to David’s words, “The Lord watched over the foreigner…” (Psalm 146:9).

And he is still watching over us.

You Can’t Hurry…

Emma Patterson1 Comment

In an ever-changing world, there is something people from any century would recognize — waiting. Maybe we are waiting for a bus, waiting for a job, waiting for a phone call, or just waiting on the world to change 🎶.

Whatever it is, waiting is never easy.

Seasons of waiting are some of the most uncomfortable places to live. Right now, I am waiting on a visa. A simple document that says I am allowed to remain in the place I consider my (second) home. Without this document, my time here in Tanzania has an expiration date.

Waiting can stir up doubts, fears, and questions.

Growing up, my family took many road trips. But we weren’t the kind of road trip family that planned stops to see the world’s largest ball of yarn. Our goal was to get from point A to point B as quickly as possible. The fewer stops, the better the trip. But even on the fastest journeys, stopping was always necessary. Whether to fuel the car or fuel our bodies, we never made the trip from Texas to Indiana or Iowa without stopping. Rest stops were simply part of reaching our destination.

Rest stops serve an important purpose. They offer a little time to refuel, stretch, and gather yourself for the miles ahead. Without these breaks, the trip can start to feel overwhelming and tiring. Similarly, times of waiting are often moments where God gently invites us to pause, rest, and find renewal before moving forward on the path He has laid out for us.

Throughout Scripture, we see that seasons of waiting are common—and never wasted. Abraham waited for God’s promise of a son. David waited through years of danger and attacks on his life before he sat on his promised throne. Israel waited for the promised land and for the promised Messiah. Even Jesus waited for the right time to begin His ministry and for the appointed time when He would give His life for us. These stories show God’s sovereignty and how waiting shapes character and prepares His people.

While we wait, it’s important to remember that God is still moving—refining, preparing, and guiding us, even when we cannot see it. In the same way “You Can’t Hurry Love” 🎶, we can’t hurry God. Waiting then becomes an opportunity for our faith to deepen and strengthen. Like my mother would always sing, “Be patient, be patient, don’t be in such a hurry, for when you’re impatient, it only makes you worry, remember, remember, that God is patient too, and think of all the times that others had to wait on you! 🎶”

So, while I wait for my visa, I choose to say, God, I will wait, I will wait for You 🎶.

If this is where He has called me, I have no reason to fear.

“Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the LORD.”
Psalm 27:14

Laughing Through Life

Emma Patterson1 Comment

I joined a book club.

And it couldn’t have been a timelier decision. While my excitement about being back in Tanzania hasn’t waned, the fatigue of newness is setting in. I’ve returned to the same city, the same house, the same church, while balancing new routines, new schedules, new relationships, and new responsibilities. New is both exhilarating and exhausting.

It’s easy for me to focus on what’s exhausting, take things too seriously, and overlook the small things that bring me joy each day.

I’m sure you’re thinking, “But Emma, you are a PATTERSON… that means you love to laugh!” Which is true, but how do you laugh when you feel overwhelmed?

God has a great sense of humor… In my book club, the first book we’re reading is called “Yet We Still Laugh: Stories of Humor and Hope from Women Serving Around the World.” So far, I’ve read the introduction, and I’m already being reminded that joy can be found in any season or situation.

“[Laughter] is both a medicine and a ministry… we celebrate it. Not as a distraction from the hard, but as a beautiful companion to it.”

New is scary, but when we lean into the awkward and unknown, it can lead to beautiful lessons from the most patient teacher — God. In this season, He is stretching me in ways I didn’t expect — comforting me when I feel unsettled, gently convicting me when I need to grow, and whispering truth when fear tries to take over. I don’t always listen well, and I often rely on my own pitiful “strength”. The hardest part of change is admitting that I’m weak, that I can’t do it on my own.

Change is like learning a new skill for the first time. Right now, my nephew is learning to walk. He constantly stumbles over his little feet, but does he give up? Maybe for a moment, but soon he picks himself up and tries again.

“The joy found in ridiculous moments is just as sacred as the quiet ones.”

Learning new skills means giving ourselves permission to be imperfect. In doing so, we make grace-filled mistakes, discover skills we didn’t know we possessed, and, all the while, the Holy Spirit is shaping us into the image of Christ. 

There is a tenderness in the growth process – a recognition that the road traveled can be just as beautiful as the destination. As we grow in Christ, our confidence grows that we are following God’s call.

As I turn each new page, both in my book club and in my life, I’m beginning to trust that even in the chaos of change, something good and steady is taking shape within me.

So, when my car breaks down in my driveway, when my schedule for the next month changes for the twelfth time, when I stumble over my words as I try to learn another language… I choose to laugh. I choose to see the beauty in uncertainty – the thrill of possibility, the freshness of new beginnings, and the gentle reminder that I’m not doing any of this alone. 

Thank you for walking with me on this journey.

“But that’s not all! We gladly suffer, because we know that suffering helps us to endure. 4 And endurance builds character, which gives us a hope 5 that will never disappoint us. All of this happens because God has given us the Holy Spirit, who fills our hearts with his love.” Romans 5: 3-5

Expecting the Unexpected

Emma Patterson1 Comment

Last week, a monkey stole my cupcake…

Well, it tried, but I won. This phrase is one of the many things that came out of my mouth that I never thought I would say in my lifetime. It’s funny how life has a way of surprising us, often when we least expect it.

I was sitting on a bench eating lunch and enjoying the cool breeze that followed the rain. A friend had dropped some cupcakes for a game night at church later that evening. I told her I would take them inside for her when I finished eating. As I sat there, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a monkey approaching. In an area with many tall trees and children dropping crumbs, there were often many monkeys around the church, so this was not an unfamiliar sight, but they usually kept their distance from people. However, this monkey seemed unusually bold, perhaps emboldened by the lingering crumbs from an earlier gathering.

Each time I looked at the monkey, it would become a statue waiting until I turned away to creep its little body closer to the prize it so desired. Its eyes were fixated on the box, and I could almost hear its tiny heart racing excitedly. Before I knew it, my new little friend stood on its hind legs beside the bench, its tiny hands stretching out as if ready to snatch away the cupcakes. We locked eyes as the monkey reached forward, grabbed the box of cupcakes, and began pulling it toward himself with surprising strength. I quickly reacted, pulling the box back towards myself. The monkey furled his little eyebrows, a comical yet determined expression on its face, and then initiated a tug-of-war match so fierce I felt like I was back in grade school on the playground. Each time I pulled the cupcakes back towards me, I found myself pointing and scolding the monkey as if I were the parent of a rambunctious toddler, filled with righteous indignation. I’m sure that was a sight to see!

Eventually, the monkey accepted its defeat and sauntered away in the most melancholy manner, its tail dragging slightly as if ashamed. I returned to eating my lunch and celebrating my victory. After a few minutes passed, I realized the monkey was recruiting backup. Before I knew it, more than twenty monkeys approached the bench, a brigade of mischief matching the intensity of my earlier struggle. Panic surged as I realized I was no longer facing just one little thief but a whole army of them. As I was unprepared for this escalating battle, I quickly gathered my cupcakes and ran to safety, my heart racing not just from the absurdity of the situation but also from the thrill of the unexpected adventure that unfolded in the most ordinary setting.

Lately, I have been learning to expect the unexpected. As a girl who likes details and being in the know, this does not come as an easy task, but a worthwhile one. Whether it’s monkeys at church, scorpions in my bathroom (it was a tailless whip scorpion – go ahead and google that if you are looking for some good nightmare material), fire alarms waking me in the wee hours of the morning, or angry cats out my window at night, I’m learning to let go and laugh at the little things I cannot control. What starts as a bizarre incident becomes a funny story, which reminds me that I may not know what to expect, but I can welcome the humor hidden in what sometimes feels like chaos.

Trust the Process

Emma Patterson3 Comments

When I moved to Tanzania, I prayed time and time again for a desire to cook. Whether it was traditional American food or recipes from a new land, I knew I would need this to survive without the convenience of Chick-fil-A or a microwave.

I believe my God continuously answers this prayer as I experiment in the kitchen and enjoy it. I’m more of a go-with-the-flow cook, meaning I would rather throw random ingredients in a pan than look at a recipe. I can cook the same thing multiple times, and it will never turn out the same way, and honestly, I think that’s part of the fun!

Sometimes, things don’t go according to plan. The bread catches fire, the cake doesn’t rise, the soup boils over, or the food-to-seasoning ratio is way off. (I’m embarrassed to say all these have happened to me in the last few months.) The meal is usually unsalvageable when this happens, but that isn’t always the case. Sometimes, things appear like they aren’t going according to plan, but I need to trust the process.

Take, for example, this week:

After visiting my local farmers’ market, I came home with two beautiful eggplants. This purchase was strictly based on color alone, as I had no idea what to do with this unusual vegetable. After a quick Google search, I decided to attempt a Middle Eastern recipe called Baba Ghanoush. The picture looked exactly like hummus, which I love. So, I thought to myself, what could possibly go wrong?

I followed the directions to a T, not something I usually do when cooking.

Step One: roast the eggplant. Once it is golden brown in color and soft to the touch, remove the skins and put the eggplant in a mesh strainer to remove any extra liquids.

That seemed simple enough. Once the eggplant filled my kitchen with the earthy aroma of roasted vegetables, I removed it from the oven and began peeling off the skin. The recipe failed to mention that the “golden brown” color may be more greyish, greenish brown. I thought I must have bought rotten eggplants.

Nothing about this sticky, ugly mess looked appetizing to me. I considered throwing it out and just having a peanut butter sandwich for dinner. But it wasn’t the final product, and there were many more steps until the Baba Ghanoush would be complete.

Instead of giving up, I decided to trust the process. This adventure had two possible endings:

I would waste the next 30 minutes of my life cooking a rotten mess, OR
I would follow the remaining steps and end up with a delicious treat!

I followed the remaining directions, unsure of the outcome. Luckily, the second option was the winner, and if you have never tried Baba Ghanoush and you like hummus, it’s delicious!

Through cooking, God has taught me so much about what it looks like to grow as I walk with him into the unknown. As much as we may want to, it is impossible to skip to the end without going through all the steps.

There are times when life feels like a sticky, ugly mess. Amid growing pains and uncontrollable circumstances, I often think nothing beautiful could come from a season like this. In those moments, God reminds me that what feels uncomfortable is just a tiny part of the story in which he is working together for his good and glory.

Sometimes, life may feel like it’s on fire, has too much or not enough seasoning, or feels like it’s just not coming together. But through it all – my job? I want to trust the process and remember that my God is in control.

Following the Leader

Emma Patterson1 Comment

Almost exactly one year ago (a little more than now), I decided to move to Tanzania.

I can remember the anticipation and anxiety, my thoughts moving at the speed of light as I thought through this decision. I recently came across a journal entry from that season where I wrote:

“Stuck.
Cemented in place.
In a never-ending whirlpool.
The whipping winds of a cyclone, the tormenting waves of a tsunami.
but suddenly, without warning – deafening silence in the eye of a hurricane.
Momentary relief in a sea of chaos.
But it is not peaceful; it is stagnant and stale.
Imitation at best.
Because while it may seam calm in the eye, you can only ignore the raging seas for so long.
You can only remain blind to the bending trees and roaring winds if your eyes are shut.
One blink, one breath, sends you right back to reality.
To the tormenting waves, never-ending cycle of fear and doubt as you stand.
Cemented in place.
Stuck.”

I tried making the most significant life decision in my own strength. But like yesterday, I also remember the instantaneous peace I felt when I finally let go of control and listened to God’s calling.

Sitting on Kome Island, I had no agenda, only to visit and observe as the school year started. When the kids and teachers returned home each afternoon, I had so much time to sit in the silence of the peaceful island and pray through all the Lord was laying on my heart. One afternoon, I was reading my Bible, and a verse stood out like never before.

“Just as each one has received a gift, use it to serve others, as good stewards of the varied grace of God. 11 If anyone speaks, let it be as one who speaks God’s words; if anyone serves, let it be from the strength God provides, so that God may be glorified through Jesus Christ in everything. To him be the glory and the power forever and ever. Amen.”
1 Peter 4:10-11

As I read this passage repeatedly, I thought specifically about serving in the strength God provides. Do I rely on Him, or am I trying to do everything and make every decision in my strength? God opened my eyes to how I allowed my shortfalls and insecurities to dictate the paths I considered and how I prayed about my future.

I remember pausing at that moment and telling God, “If this is what you want for me, then take away every fear.” I didn’t have the time to finish typing and hit send before he gave me his reply.

The sudden, overwhelming, all-consuming peace was all the confirmation I needed. God wanted me in Tanzania. When? For how long? For what purpose? All those answers would come later. At that moment, I knew His plans were more significant than mine.

My job now? Trust.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding; think about Him in all your ways, and He will guide you on the right paths.”
Proverbs 4:5-6

Trust has never come easy for me. I’m sure many people could say the same. My default is to doubt. To ask questions and look for reasons to believe trust is merited. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, for much of my life, I lived by the phrase, “Trust is earned, not given.” I still do from time to time.

But God asks us to do just the opposite of what comes naturally.

Wait.
Listen.
Trust.
Follow.

This year, I hope to continue learning as I seek to follow the leader, for it is in following that we find true freedom.

I’m Going to Break You (Pt. 6)

Emma Patterson3 Comments

Day Six

I awoke suddenly to wind chimes, beeps, and music as a chorus of alarms went off around me. The sharp pains of a splitting headache amplified each sound. It was 11:00 p.m., and now time to prepare for our summit attempt. Putting on each layer to protect my body from the icy winds was like dawning a suit of armor. The frigid air and the thick snow pants caused my body to feel stiff and immovable.

Dehydrated and running on little sleep, I couldn’t stomach any food served at our midnight breakfast. After a few forced sips of hot tea, I was ready to begin shedding layers. As the team ate, we sat in total silence. As we waited, I began praying over and over:

“God, whatever happens, may you be glorified.”

Finally, it was time. We grabbed our supplies and followed the leader up the mountain in a single file line. We hiked in the black of night in total silence, our headlamps illuminating the feet in front of us and nothing more. Within the first few minutes, my lungs were screaming for oxygen. Each icy breath felt like a knife as it shocked my system.

After maybe 20 minutes, I thought listening to worship music would help get my mind off my headache and lungs. (Side note – A week before the climb, I left my AirPods on Kome Island, so if I listened to music, everyone listened.) My phone was deep in the abyss of layered clothing, so I had to rely on my memory.

Unfortunately, the jukebox in my brain seemed to be malfunctioning this morning, so one single line of a Rich Mullins song played on repeat for the next hour:

“I will seek you in the morning,
And I will learn to walk in your ways,
Step by step, you guide me,
And I will follow you all of my days.”

My God has a great sense of humor. As this verse repeatedly played in my head, I thought about how this song depicted what I was doing then. I sought after Jesus early in the morning as I took step after step up a mountain. Each step was hard but worth it. In the same way, steps of faith are not always easy, but they are always worth it.

Lesson #7 – Pursuing Christ is worth everything.

“Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” Matthew 6:33

As we continued climbing, the pain worsened, the breaths became shorter and faster, and the nausea began to set in. I had to stop frequently to catch my breath and occasionally to dry-heave behind rocks as I had nothing in my stomach.

Each time I stopped, I felt a pang of guilt for slowing down my teammates. What I was unaware of in the moment was that my team surrounded me and prayed over me each time I stopped. When the enemy wanted me to feel alone, I was, in reality, surrounded by warriors pleading for my strength and healing.

After two hours of walking, stopping, walking, and stopping, my body had had enough. I sat on the ground in the middle of the path, feeling defeated. As I began to pray, an overwhelming feeling of peace overcame this wisp of defeat. I turned to Yusuph as tears flooded my eyes and said, “I think you know what I am about to say.” He nodded.

“I’ve gone as far as I am supposed to go.” These words tasted like honey and felt like a sweet release. The rest of the team immediately tried to rebuttal with words of encouragement, to which I said, “I am at complete peace with this decision. I’ve gone farther than I ever thought I would go.”

Yusuph looked me in the eyes and said, “Knowing your limits is a strength far greater than any weakness.”

Before leaving the team, John, our lead guide, congratulated me and said, “Emma, you have climbed over 5,000 meters.” Looking at my watch, it had clocked around 17,000 ft. elevation, nearly 6,000 ft higher than I had ever been previously. I hugged each team member and promised to pray for them as they climbed to the top of the mountain, and that is precisely what I did.

Seventeen minutes later, I was back at camp. One of our guides practically ran me down the mountain as my boots slid and skied over the chalky, sand-like ground. I crawled into my tent and tried my best to get warm. It was six degrees Fahrenheit, and the warm water bottle I used to heat my sleeping bag was now a block of ice. As I shivered, I prayed and anticipated the return of my teammates. I couldn’t wait to celebrate their success.

As the sun rose above the peak, I sat on a rock near the edge of camp and waited. Soon, my friends began returning to camp, two or three at a time. What joy it brought me to hear their stories of trials and triumphs as each one made it to the top.

Then, like gravity, what went up must go back down. It took us a day and a half to reach the mountain base. Climbing down felt harder than climbing up as we used and strained different muscles and eagerly anticipated the warm showers and soft beds waiting for us back at the hotel.

When asked about my experience on the mountain, I’ve told many people this was by far the hardest thing I have ever done. Would I do it again? Only time will tell – but I am grateful for every memory, every lesson, and the continued growth I have experienced since.

Lesson #8 – Sometimes, we go through hard things to prepare us for something greater.

“He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.” 2 Corinthians 1:4-5

When I think about the mountain, I don’t think about the pain and hardships (although they were at the forefront of my mind for the first few weeks. My body has never been more sore!), I think about the lessons I learned. I see how God used the mountain to prepare me for my most incredible adventure yet – moving to Tanzania. In every situation, I am learning to rely on Him, seek help from others, and leave every concern at the foot of the cross. I don’t do this perfectly, but I will continue learning.

The adventure is only getting started! I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

I’m Going to Break You (Pt. 5)

Emma Patterson2 Comments

Day five

We awoke early the next morning to begin our final day of climbing before the summit attempt. As I choked down breakfast and guzzled as much water as my stomach could handle, I dreaded putting on my hiking boots. By this point, my feet were swollen to twice their standard size, and I had completely lost feeling in 3 of my toes. I forced my feet into my boots, and my whole body ached as we began our ascent.

As we inched forward, one step at a time, I began repeating over and over in my mind, “The Lord is my refuge and strength. My ever-present help in times of trouble. Therefore, I will not fear…” Psalm 46:1-2a. Without even realizing it, my internal mantra became external at some point. Tara was hiking behind me and asked, “What verse are you repeating?” then, “Why don’t you finish the verse?” The rest of the verse speaks of mountains crumbling into the sea, probably not the encouragement needed for mountain climbing. However, it would make our descent quicker!

As we hiked higher and higher over dusty sand and scattered rock, I began setting small, attainable goals for myself. I would look ahead, pick a landmark, and then pray, sing, count steps — do whatever was necessary to motivate me — until I reached my goal. The higher we climbed, the shorter the distance became between each landmark. The path steepened, and as we approached the final mile to camp, we began seeing weary travelers descending the mountain. This is a kind, too-pretty description of what we came to describe as mountain zombies – hikers being carried, dragged, and rolled back down the mountain after their summit attempt. Many looked to be near death as they were thrown over the shoulder of their guide like a porter hauling tents. I can’t say this made anyone on our team eager to continue the climb.

We continued passing mountain zombies, and my distance between goals continued to decrease. We were in the last half hour, but I wasn’t sure if my wobbly legs and swollen feet could make it. At this point, I felt the effects of the altitude as my lungs gasped for air and my muscles shook from fatigue.

Lesson #6 – we are stronger in community.

“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Hebrews 10:24-25

Two dear teammates, Wade and Tara, took the same painfully slow pace I set and encouraged me along the way.

“Emma, take ten more steps, and then you can rest.”

“That’s it, now let’s do ten more!”

“Think you can do 15 this time? Then we can pause to catch our breath.”

This went on for at least half an hour, counting my every step, pausing with me when needed, and speaking encouragement when I had no words. Reminding me of the goals ahead and how much we had achieved. Before I knew it, we had arrived. A hot lunch waited for us, and a glorious afternoon nap.

We would eat dinner, sleep for a few hours, and soon begin the final climb.

To Be Continued…

I’m Going to Break You (Pt. 4)

Emma Patterson1 Comment

Day 4

“Emma…Emma…Are you awake? … Emma?”

The voice of Juma, our porter, woke me each morning. On the morning of day 4, I had no intention of getting out of my sleeping bag. While I knew we had an early start, I was done.

When I finally opened my eyes, I realized Juma had crawled inside my tent. 😂 “Emma… Emma… I’m going to help you pack up your bag. Please get up!” I wasn’t sure if that was enough to get me up, but Juma was determined, and I eventually joined the team at breakfast. Someone asked the group, “How is everyone doing this morning?” There were various answers: 6…7…8…9…great sleep and a 10! Then, all eyes were on me, and I began to cry again.

“I have nothing today. Emotionally, physically, mentally… I’m a zero.”

I couldn’t pinpoint what was bothering me, but I knew something other than exhaustion from the previous day’s hike was the culprit for my emotions. As we began to walk, it dawned on me.

Today was the Barranco Wall.

I had dreaded the Barranco Wall for months. When I first agreed to go on this climb, I had done some research (clearly not enough. Don’t trust YouTube Documentaries!), and the Barranco Wall seemed to be the most technical day as we scaled up and over a 400-foot rock wall. The previous fears coupled with my newfound fear of heights left me paralyzed. My tears could have filled the ravine as I cried the entire walk to the wall.

We reached the base, and with John on one side, Yusuph on the other, and Kayla right in front of me, they said, “You’ve got this. We won’t let you fall.”

At that moment, I could hear my dad’s mantra whenever we were afraid or angry, “Emma, who are you thinking about right now?” That phrase caused much frustration growing up because I usually was thinking of myself. In that moment, God reminded me to dwell on him. I told those around me to remind me to keep my eyes on the rocks rather than the cliffs and edges we climbed so dangerously close to.

Lesson #4 – Always keep your eyes up.

“Keeping our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of God. For consider him who endured such suffering amongst sinners against himself, so that we won’t grow weary or lose hope.” Hebrews 12:2-3

We reached the top of the wall, surprisingly, one of my favorite parts of the climb. My watch clocked 623 feet of elevation gain. After sitting for a well-deserved snack break, John asked me, “Emma, are you ready to continue?” To no one’s surprise, I asked for two more minutes and then got ready. We had to cross a ridge and descend into a ravine before climbing back to the top of a second hill. While this sounded easy enough, the journey always took longer than expected. As John and I walked, I didn’t even realize we had left the rest of the team behind. We hiked and talked for about 20 minutes before Yusuph caught up with us. After catching us, Yusuph exclaimed, “I can’t believe you left without me!”

John, Yusuph and I hiked for over 3 hours, only stopping once for a break before the final hill. As we walked, we talked about everything God was teaching each one of us on this journey. I explained the fear I felt in the morning and how God was renewing me and filling me as I gave my worries to him with each forward step. John quietly hiked in the lead, leaving just enough distance that I was unaware he was listening as I spoke. When I finished sharing, he said, “Emma, God is using your journey to teach me something right now. I didn’t know if you had it in you this morning, but God is proving me wrong as I see him push you on. Your journey is strengthening my faith.” 

Lesson #5 – We never know when someone is watching. The way we walk matters.

“I, therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called…” Ephesians 4:1

I was the first to camp that day. The rest of the team arrived 45 minutes later. We ate dinner, laughed together, and shared stories from our day. At this camp, the clouds cleared away after dinner, and we had the most beautiful view of the city 14,000 feet below.

To Be Continued…

I’m Going to Break You (Pt. 3)

Emma Patterson1 Comment

Day 3 took on a whole new set of challenges. Our team separated into two groups- those who are fast and those who are not. I felt good in the morning. The walk was strenuous, but I knew I could make it to lunch.

As we walked, I asked our lead guide, John, if he would share his testimony. This led to many theological conversations and opportunities to learn from each other. He has guided people up the mountain for more than two decades, and what a blessing he was to me and our entire team. I’ve never met someone who more perfectly embodies Isaiah 52:7 – “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.”

Later in the hike, John would tell us that he had guided more teams up the mountain than he could count, but never in his 20 years of climbing had he ever led a group that lived out their faith so authentically. I think we all felt the same about him, and it was so evident that God had anointed this meeting. What a joy it was to learn from each other as we made this climb an act of worship to our God.

Our walk to lunch at Lava Tower (standing at 15,000 ft.), the highest we had been so far, took longer than expected, and our feet dragged. I remember loudly proclaiming at one point, “I’ve taken 843 steps since I last wanted to quit!” Counting steps took my mind off my pain and helped me remember I was continually moving forward. We made it to lunch and enjoyed a nice break without knowing what would lie ahead.

After eating, we were told, “We will go downhill for a bit.” They failed to mention that downhill was at least a 200 ft rock wall we had to descend, then climb over rocks and ravines for at least 2 hours before arriving at camp. Like everything, the descent took far longer than anticipated. I learned I fear heights – cliffs, ledges, and drop-offs with no gates or warning signs.

John could sense my fear and firmly took my arm, saying, “I’ve got you. You have nothing to fear.” The sun rapidly set behind us as we slowly inched closer to camp. Soon, we were hiking with only the light of the moon. I have awful night blindness, so I was not enjoying this last hour of the hike.

Lesson #2 – sometimes you can’t see where you are going, but you must trust the hand that guides you.

“Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.” Psalm 119:105

A thought that kept crossing my mind as we meandered in darkness, “I just want to hug my family.” I had no family on this trip, but Yusuph is basically my brother. We finally get to camp, and the rest of the team is already eating dinner. Before I made it inside the tent, Yusuph ran to greet us and gave me the biggest hug. I immediately began sobbing, releasing the pent-up tears ever-present since the descent down the rock wall. That hug and another bowl of vegetable soup were what my heart needed that night. It was a subtle reminder from God:

Lesson #3– He promises to comfort us. We may not be removed from the pain, but our Savior meets us in the fire.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

We hiked for 12 hours that day.

To Be Continued…