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I finally got a space to call my own. For those of you who didn’t know, before I moved last week I had been living in the church for two months. I had my own place there in a classroom with all the necessities for living- a bed, a refrigerator, and even an oven. I was just like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, you might say, except I didn’t ring any bells, my back’s somewhat straighter, and I’m much better looking. Be that as it may, living at the church was a place where I was able to get to know the church community well—almost too well, for sure. Throughout the summer months there were always people there, and moments of privacy and quietude were few and far between. Luckily, I had two Argentinean brothers from the church keeping me company for safety and sanity’s sake, but it was still a time of much frustration in my life for the complete lack of boundaries between personal and public appearances.

The problem on my part was neither financial nor a lack of desire to move out. I’ve received much support to be able to rent a very decent place for Paraguayan standards, and all summer long it nearly killed me that I was bumming off the church and without a place of my own. I felt needy, dependent, and very incapable as a missionary. So intense was my desire to leave the church that I spent two months searching every neighborhood within the distance of a twenty minute walk from the church for a place to rent. I went out for hours at a time in the severe Paraguayan heat with my thermos of water in hand, barely able to communicate in Spanish but, by some amazing grace of God, conveying to so many dozens of people that I needed a place to live. The problem, however, was that these same so many dozens of people responded with blank stares and empty answers when I asked them if there was any place available nearby. For the life of me, I couldn’t find any place to live. There were several close calls, but always the opportunities closed before I could do anything and I always left empty-handed. I think I knew a little bit how Jesus felt when he said, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

Part of the problem may have been the long list of requirements and special conditions that the search required. Safety was a priority for me and all my American things, and I wanted a place that was close enough to walk to the church. I have the privilege of staying with two other guys from the congregation, so I needed an apartment that could house three guys comfortably along with all the visitors that come on the weekends and on missions trips. Finally, to stay on budget, I needed all this for under $100 every month. I often found places that met three or four of these conditions but seemed woefully lacking in the fourth or fifth area. There was a nice apartment that was cheap and close and safe, for example, but where the landlady only wanted two people to stay. There was another house that was big and cheap and close, but that was located in a rough part of the neighborhood and had no fence. Everywhere I went to look, I only met tons of dead ends.

Throughout the process, I got more and more discouraged. As the start of school year approached and my deadline for moving out of my classroom drew near, I thought for certain I’d be out on the street or sharing a small, sleeper-style room with a friend who was already renting. I was upset, because I knew that as a missionary I ought to have a suitable place to have people over and to be hospitable. Like my mom, one of my gifts is hospitality, and I knew I’d be nearly broken if I couldn’t exercise it. I also knew for certain that God wanted me to share my life with others, and that He certainly could provide a suitable place if He wanted to. The God I serve is, after all, the same God who said, “Every beast of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills.” My request wasn’t so big as a thousand cows or all the animals in the jungle, either. No; I just wanted a little place to live.

Thankfully, many people continued to encourage me in the search for an apartment and in my faith, too. Karen reminded me time and time again that God often works in last-minute ways to provide for all our needs, and does this to build up our faith in Him. I was skeptical and upset with God, but couldn’t argue with her proof: she reminded me of what God had done (and of what I had personally and recently seen) for the school by providing all the monies for the construction project just a few days before work crews from the States arrived, and also for the $17,000 in student scholarship money just a few days before we had to notify families as to who would and who would not receive the necessary help. The theme, she said, was this: God is good, knows our needs, and we’ve just got to trust that He’ll work things out in the end; even when it’s the extremely last-minute end of things.

Today, although I don’t want to admit it, I have to testify that Karen was right. I’m sitting in the miracle of a perfect apartment this morning that has two huge bedrooms, a bathroom, a nice kitchen along with a back patio and lawn, high safe fences, is within a two minute walk of the church, and rents for only $70 a month. I couldn’t be happier. A week ago Thursday a lady from the church told me about her own miracle: she had been praying for a cheaper and better place than what she had, and God had mercifully provided her family with the stewardship of a large home. They had heard of the opportunity on the radio and, out of 200 applicants, were chosen to house-sit. They would be vacating their apartment quickly the next day, so she wondered if I was still looking for a place to rent. I sure was, I said, since school started next Wednesday and the teacher whose room I occupied was awfully antsy to start decorating. Thankfully, that same day this kind lady referred me to her landlord and by the next day she was packing to up move out. Long story short, the landlord offered me his miraculous place, I signed the papers, and now I have a contract to live here through January.

Thus, God came through and provided in a wonderful way for me. When I was unable do anything on my own with two months worth of effort, God did everything for me in a single day. When I wanted to compromise safety or budget or convenience to rent a place quickly and imperfectly, God provided everything for me in abundance and perfection and while also teaching me mighty lessons in patience and waiting on Him. I’m still not certain why it took so long for me to learn the lesson, but I’ve seen once again how God can work in the last minute in superrich ways. My faith has been grown through no choice of my own, and I can see for certain that, “for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”