She knocked on the metal of our gate, selling banana pancakes barefoot for the equivalent of 13 cents. We folded a pair of flip flops into her milky palms, discovered her name (I’ll call her Prossy). We wondered why she wasn’t in school.

Through multiple visits, as she sat on the porch and devoured water or food, bits of her story tumbled out like gumballs. 

Parents deceased from AIDS. Drunk grandfather. Grandmother dictating the other grandchildren should attend school, but that 13-year-old Prossy haul water and vend pancakes to construction sites–full of men, some ex-convicts–for additional income. 

Through the complicated dance of discovering how to truly help Prossy’s family, we reached out in various ways. But when it came to Prossy going to school, a dungeon door dropped between us. Her grandmother was adamant she would not attend.

We wouldn’t see Prossy again. 

Her story troubles me. I pray she finds Jesus. That she would be protected from early pregnancy. That she’d learn to read.

I tell you this because, in the playing-card array of ministry experiences I hold in my mind’s hand, this one displays a question mark. 

My desires were high but outcomes were low (again).

I wonder about Paul’s expectations in Acts 16 when he received God’s vision of a Macedonian man saying, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” 

Did he think it would land him in jail, bruises ballooning, back oozing?

I wonder if Paul shook his head like I did. I wonder if expectations vs. reality ever bewildered him.

At the end of Acts 16, Paul’s Macedonian converts include a Gentile woman, a former child slave, and a Roman jailer. It was an odd little church.

Hindsight, of course, is 20/20. Paul couldn’t have known this church at Philippi would jumpstart the evangelization of Europe, and thousands of years later, the Americas. 

Reality has hewn my expectations. I highly doubt Prossy has begun a church. But in all my ministry experiences stamped with a question mark, God’s expectations are always met. He’s never surprised or let down.  

His goodness and love persevere, despite grandmothers and despite my disappointment.