I was having a bit of a rough day yesterday for some reason. My roommate was, as well. It's like we were both just upset and cranky, but couldn't pinpoint why or even exactly what was wrong. We both just felt a bit "off." So after trying all morning to get out of my little slump, I finally went to my roommate and asked if we could pray together.
While she prayed, I felt like God said to me, "You are complete in me." That really hit home for me. All my life, I have battled these feelings of "not enough." Not...pretty enough, successful enough, ambitious enough, smart enough, mature enough, educated enough, servant-hearted enough...on and on. These insecurities have joined with my perfectionist tendencies to make me constantly striving and putting pressure on myself to excel, so that I can feel OK, and "enough." So God telling me that I am complete and whole in Him really relieved a lot of pressure. It's like He was telling me that with Him I'm already enough and I don't need to be constantly striving and straining to earn the acceptance and approval of Him, others...or even myself.
As I was discussing this with my roommate after we finished praying, I began to understand it in the context of the Church as Christ's Body, with each of us having a different part. I saw that if I am the "hand" in the Body of Christ, then by myself, I am actually only half a hand. And half a hand can't really do very much. Only in and with Christ, who completes me, am I a whole hand! However, even a whole hand by itself still can't really do too much! It would just lay there, limp, lifeless, and completely useless! But the hand attached to the wrist and the arm, with a body and legs and a brain and all the other thousands of parts...now we're getting somewhere! Even a whole hand must have all the other parts of the Body to be able to function as designed.
You know, the world often encourages us to go it alone. That's part of the American Dream, isn't it? That anything is possible if we just try hard enough, pull ourselves up by our bootstraps...while initiative, perseverance, and hard-work are all good qualities we should seek to live out, I think we often have way too much of an individualistic, lone-ranger worldview. We put pressure on ourselves to be able to do it all on our own and prize not needing help from anyone!
What a relief to know that we are not created to do life alone! In fact, God has set things up to where we can only be all He has created us to be through depending on Him and others. Only plugged into the Vine, and connected with and serving alongside other Believers, can I be all I am meant to be.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Blessings
I've been involved in a mission training program all weekend called Community Health Evangelism (CHE). The learning has been great, and the fellowship even better. It has been indescribably wonderful to be around a group of like-minded Believers all weekend studying missions and the Word!
Also, it seems that one of the women in the group may be able and willing to help me debrief my experiences in Africa. I still need that, desperately, really. There are still a lot of questions and pain inside me over the things I learned and saw. I actually just began praying a few weeks ago for God to bring a mentor into my life...perhaps this is a very quick answer to prayer! I hope so!
Another missionary couple I know is in from out of town this week. I knew Laura when she went to school here, then she moved away to attend Bible school; she also got married not too long ago. Now she and her husband are preparing to serve overseas. We got together last night and it was such a tremendous blessing. We talked about missions for forever, and then we ended up at Borders where she asked me to tell her about the hard things that happened overseas. The next hour or so was teary for both of us. But such a huge blessing. She is only the second person whom I have told my whole story to since returning from overseas. I am thankful for the gifts Laura gave me last night: the gifts of listening, being present, empathy, understanding, and compassion.
Thank you, Lord, for your goodness and blessings in my life!
Also, it seems that one of the women in the group may be able and willing to help me debrief my experiences in Africa. I still need that, desperately, really. There are still a lot of questions and pain inside me over the things I learned and saw. I actually just began praying a few weeks ago for God to bring a mentor into my life...perhaps this is a very quick answer to prayer! I hope so!
Another missionary couple I know is in from out of town this week. I knew Laura when she went to school here, then she moved away to attend Bible school; she also got married not too long ago. Now she and her husband are preparing to serve overseas. We got together last night and it was such a tremendous blessing. We talked about missions for forever, and then we ended up at Borders where she asked me to tell her about the hard things that happened overseas. The next hour or so was teary for both of us. But such a huge blessing. She is only the second person whom I have told my whole story to since returning from overseas. I am thankful for the gifts Laura gave me last night: the gifts of listening, being present, empathy, understanding, and compassion.
Thank you, Lord, for your goodness and blessings in my life!
Friday, October 8, 2010
God encounters and great chats with fellow missionaries about rugby fashion (short shorts and high socks), biltong, and why he didn't learn Afrikaans!
So I forgot to tell you all that last weekend I had another incredible "God encounter." For about 6 months now, I have had a series of crazy reunions and encounters, all of them overtly related to missions. I'm talking incredible encounters, the ones you KNOW are God-ordained. Like reuniting in my hometown with a girl I had befriended in South Africa but had not been connected to in the States...like a Jamaican woman whose husband I knew coming into the store where I work and us just "happening" to figure out that we had all these connections...on and on. I have told people for 6 months that I feel like God is stalking me and that I'm not sure what He wants! Well, it happened again this weekend! And the funny thing is, just a week or so before that, I had just thought to myself, "Well, maybe it's over...I haven't had any of those mission encounters for awhile, so maybe that has passed." Notttttt so much...
I went to visit my dear friend in Jasper over the weekend. I don't go there often - too lazy to make the drive, I suppose, or we are both just too busy to make it happen. Anyway, Sunday morning we went to her sister and brother-in-law's church about 1/2 hour away in a very small town called French Lick. Honestly, I wasn't that excited to be going...I was tired and not expecting much out of the very small gathering of Believers.
We were a little late to church, and therefore walked quite swiftly into the church. As we entered the foyer, I stopped abrubtly. There was a table and a display set up that my mind recognized as probably from a missionary. My mind was desperately trying to piece together if indeed it was a missionary's display and, if so, where they were serving. Cassie said, "Oh, I totally forgot. There are missoinaries speaking today. My sister told me not to miss it!" As soon as she said that, my eyes finally focused on the giant South African flag draped over the front of the table. I started crying.
The man, Scott, was a missionary kid in South Africa for 4 years, and he and his wife and two boys are fundraising to move there as career missionaries. Even though he doesn't speak Afrikaans, which was disappionting, we did share some great comraderie over rugby and biltong.
The whole day, I couldn't get it out of my head what an obvious "non-coincidence" this was, for me to be on one of my just-a-few-times-a-year visits to Cassie, and visiting a tiny church in a tiny town I've only been to one time before, and it just so happens that there are missionaries there from SA. Ok, God, you have my attention again...what are you trying to tell me???
I went to visit my dear friend in Jasper over the weekend. I don't go there often - too lazy to make the drive, I suppose, or we are both just too busy to make it happen. Anyway, Sunday morning we went to her sister and brother-in-law's church about 1/2 hour away in a very small town called French Lick. Honestly, I wasn't that excited to be going...I was tired and not expecting much out of the very small gathering of Believers.
We were a little late to church, and therefore walked quite swiftly into the church. As we entered the foyer, I stopped abrubtly. There was a table and a display set up that my mind recognized as probably from a missionary. My mind was desperately trying to piece together if indeed it was a missionary's display and, if so, where they were serving. Cassie said, "Oh, I totally forgot. There are missoinaries speaking today. My sister told me not to miss it!" As soon as she said that, my eyes finally focused on the giant South African flag draped over the front of the table. I started crying.
The man, Scott, was a missionary kid in South Africa for 4 years, and he and his wife and two boys are fundraising to move there as career missionaries. Even though he doesn't speak Afrikaans, which was disappionting, we did share some great comraderie over rugby and biltong.
The whole day, I couldn't get it out of my head what an obvious "non-coincidence" this was, for me to be on one of my just-a-few-times-a-year visits to Cassie, and visiting a tiny church in a tiny town I've only been to one time before, and it just so happens that there are missionaries there from SA. Ok, God, you have my attention again...what are you trying to tell me???
Training and Healing
Today was the first of four days of training in Community Health Evangelism (CHE). It's a program that teaches holistic health for communities - physical, spiritual, emotional, mental. It has been a HUGE blessing already...the training has been stellar, and the fellowship even better!!! I cannot begin to describe the encouragement of being around other like-minded Believers with a heart for the nations. At the end of one of our breaks, our trainer, Jinna, commented that she had just been talking to one of the other ladies about prostitution, polygamy, and some other unusual topic I can't remember! I just chuckled and thought to myself, "These are my people!" Not your ordinary, everyday conversation for most people...but definitely normal topics for overseas workers! I love it!
Doing this training is another huge step in the right direction for me. God heals me more and more as I take baby steps forward. It's a positive cycle...I am able to move forward because He is healing me, and He continues to heal me as I move forward. Praise God. I have been amazed lately at how gentle He is being with me during this time of healing. He has been so, SO gentle and patient with me...He is so good, so loving, so kind.
Doing this training is another huge step in the right direction for me. God heals me more and more as I take baby steps forward. It's a positive cycle...I am able to move forward because He is healing me, and He continues to heal me as I move forward. Praise God. I have been amazed lately at how gentle He is being with me during this time of healing. He has been so, SO gentle and patient with me...He is so good, so loving, so kind.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Unspeakable Evil
I love writing. But sometimes I am very, very hesitant to share my writing with others. Because writing for me is like sharing the depths of my soul with strangers, not knowing if they will understand my sentiments, agree with my opinions, or even care about the thing that concern me! :) Basically, I don't share what I write because I care too much what other people think about me!
But regarding Africa, there is another reason that I haven't wanted to share my thoughts with you: it is because my heart was pierced in Africa with knowledge and understanding of some evil and suffering that for me were, for some time, literally unspeakable.
I will never forget the first day I broke my silence about one of the horrible things I had experienced. I had been back in the States for less than a year and it was around Christmas time, or possibly shortly thereafter. I had begun working in management at a store in the mall a few months earlier, and the culture shock was outrageous. To simply return to the States from living in Africa was shocking enough; but then to work in retail at Christmas...completely overwhelming doesn't even begin to describe it. For weeks, maybe months, every time I totaled someone's purchase, outwardly I smiled and told them their total, but inwardly, my heart was hurting, broken, and confused as I quickly calculated how many starving children that $50 purchase could feed, and for how long. Though I was living, working, and seemingly functioning normally in America, Africa still filled my heart and thoughts, and it haunted me.
I remember exactly what I was wearing, and where I was standing, when I finally let it out. I had just come into work and the backroom was bustling as usual with people clocking in and out, eating lunch, getting stock. My good friend Stephanie was sitting at the desk clocking out, and she greeted me as I walked in and asked me how I was doing. I think I said something to the extent of "OK...hanging in there," all the while trying to avoid her gaze. One glance at my face told her I was anything but OK. "What's wrong?" she asked. I folded my arms tightly over my chest, as if that could keep the pain inside. Leaning against the nearby shelving, my gaze dropped to the floor and huge tears slowly began to roll down my cheeks. I barely contained my sobs as the words - and the pain - finally seeped out. "They're starving to death, Stephanie. The kids are starving to death." I literally whispered the words. I think I believed that keeping it nearly silent would somehow make it less of a reality. "I know," Stephanie said, "I know."
That marked the first day I spoke of meeting the starving children who had just been rescued from the bush in Uganda...now, another year-and-a-half later, I finally have enough courage to share this with you. It still hurts me, but not in the raw, grief-stricken way it once did. And I am finally beginning to see the loving hand of our Father God in the midst of this situation, our Daddy who sent people to rescue these children from certain death in the bush.
God has brought a lot of healing and truth and perspective this past year. After a very dark period of confusion, anger, and doubt, I have once again come back to a trust in our Heavenly Daddy. I trust that He's in control. I trust that His heart is good. And I trust His decisions, even when I don't understand, at all. And even when it means little babies and children die a horrible, painful death, because they don't have enough food to eat. I am also coming to trust that He let me meet those children - and let me experience so many other heartbreaking things - for a reason...although I have no idea yet what that reason is! Therefore, my telling their story here is a step of faith...a step of faith towards active trust and belief that he let me be a witness because someone needed to hear their story. Perhaps that someone is even you...
But regarding Africa, there is another reason that I haven't wanted to share my thoughts with you: it is because my heart was pierced in Africa with knowledge and understanding of some evil and suffering that for me were, for some time, literally unspeakable.
I will never forget the first day I broke my silence about one of the horrible things I had experienced. I had been back in the States for less than a year and it was around Christmas time, or possibly shortly thereafter. I had begun working in management at a store in the mall a few months earlier, and the culture shock was outrageous. To simply return to the States from living in Africa was shocking enough; but then to work in retail at Christmas...completely overwhelming doesn't even begin to describe it. For weeks, maybe months, every time I totaled someone's purchase, outwardly I smiled and told them their total, but inwardly, my heart was hurting, broken, and confused as I quickly calculated how many starving children that $50 purchase could feed, and for how long. Though I was living, working, and seemingly functioning normally in America, Africa still filled my heart and thoughts, and it haunted me.
I remember exactly what I was wearing, and where I was standing, when I finally let it out. I had just come into work and the backroom was bustling as usual with people clocking in and out, eating lunch, getting stock. My good friend Stephanie was sitting at the desk clocking out, and she greeted me as I walked in and asked me how I was doing. I think I said something to the extent of "OK...hanging in there," all the while trying to avoid her gaze. One glance at my face told her I was anything but OK. "What's wrong?" she asked. I folded my arms tightly over my chest, as if that could keep the pain inside. Leaning against the nearby shelving, my gaze dropped to the floor and huge tears slowly began to roll down my cheeks. I barely contained my sobs as the words - and the pain - finally seeped out. "They're starving to death, Stephanie. The kids are starving to death." I literally whispered the words. I think I believed that keeping it nearly silent would somehow make it less of a reality. "I know," Stephanie said, "I know."
That marked the first day I spoke of meeting the starving children who had just been rescued from the bush in Uganda...now, another year-and-a-half later, I finally have enough courage to share this with you. It still hurts me, but not in the raw, grief-stricken way it once did. And I am finally beginning to see the loving hand of our Father God in the midst of this situation, our Daddy who sent people to rescue these children from certain death in the bush.
God has brought a lot of healing and truth and perspective this past year. After a very dark period of confusion, anger, and doubt, I have once again come back to a trust in our Heavenly Daddy. I trust that He's in control. I trust that His heart is good. And I trust His decisions, even when I don't understand, at all. And even when it means little babies and children die a horrible, painful death, because they don't have enough food to eat. I am also coming to trust that He let me meet those children - and let me experience so many other heartbreaking things - for a reason...although I have no idea yet what that reason is! Therefore, my telling their story here is a step of faith...a step of faith towards active trust and belief that he let me be a witness because someone needed to hear their story. Perhaps that someone is even you...
Courage to write again
Well, I haven't blogged in a long, long time...going on two years to be exact!!! To be completely honest, I stopped blogging because I didn't know what to say about Africa. I wanted to forget...I wanted to forget all I'd seen and learned. For two years now, just thinking about Africa has made me want to curl into a tiny ball on the floor and sob. But God has been at work, healing and comforting and changing that dark curtain of confusion and pain and anger into light and hope and trust.
A brief recap: For those of you who don't know me, or who have just recently met me, I spent the majority of my time from 2005 - 2008 in Jamaica and South Africa doing mission work. I was in a lot of places and met a ton of people during that time...and therefore had my eyes opened to many, many things. *Deep breath...continue.* I saw a lot of things overseas that literally wounded my soul - a deep, gaping wound. I was exposed to so many evil, evil things that caused a lot of people immense suffering and even death. I have always been a very sensitive, empathetic person. And seeing the people around me hurting and dying hurt me. Very, very deeply. And it shattered the God and the faith I had known. For my understanding of God pre-Africa was not big enough to handle and explain all that I saw in Africa.
I arrived home April 22, 2008, a day I will never, ever forget. It's a kind of anniversary for me. Honestly, the thought that surfaced the first Sunday I was home, as I was driving to church and saw a dear family I know on the highway, was, "I didn't think I'd make it home alive." But I did, and I have stories to tell. My story, yes, but even more so their story, the people I met along the way who changed my life. And, woven throughout our stories is HIS story...of redemption and goodness and mercy and love.
A brief recap: For those of you who don't know me, or who have just recently met me, I spent the majority of my time from 2005 - 2008 in Jamaica and South Africa doing mission work. I was in a lot of places and met a ton of people during that time...and therefore had my eyes opened to many, many things. *Deep breath...continue.* I saw a lot of things overseas that literally wounded my soul - a deep, gaping wound. I was exposed to so many evil, evil things that caused a lot of people immense suffering and even death. I have always been a very sensitive, empathetic person. And seeing the people around me hurting and dying hurt me. Very, very deeply. And it shattered the God and the faith I had known. For my understanding of God pre-Africa was not big enough to handle and explain all that I saw in Africa.
I arrived home April 22, 2008, a day I will never, ever forget. It's a kind of anniversary for me. Honestly, the thought that surfaced the first Sunday I was home, as I was driving to church and saw a dear family I know on the highway, was, "I didn't think I'd make it home alive." But I did, and I have stories to tell. My story, yes, but even more so their story, the people I met along the way who changed my life. And, woven throughout our stories is HIS story...of redemption and goodness and mercy and love.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Life a Mist
You guys, I am in such a state of unrest. All I think about all day every day, is missions, and my calling. What am I called to do? I came home in April with the thought of being done with living overseas; I wanted to get involved in ministry similar to what I was doing overseas, but here in the States. Honestly, the reasons I want to live in the States descend from decent to overtly selfish: to be close to family and friends – my network of friendship and support – and to be COMFORTABLE. Perhaps this is a shock to you, but ice cold showers at 7 AM (or anytime of the morning or night, for that matter!), and going without running water and electricity, even for brief periods of time, do not increase one’s level of comfort! And I wanted stability…I was tired of the constant moving, changing relationships, etc. So, I have come home, am enjoying being close to friends and family, and my flesh is much more comfortable here than overseas. But meanwhile, my soul grows more restless and discontent every day. For awhile now, I have been telling myself, “You just need to give yourself more time to adjust to being back. Just give it more time.” But it seems that the longer I stay, the more restless I grow, because the things that used to matter to me hardly matter anymore. I feel like there is a passion and a message and a calling exploding inside of me... a cry that there is so much more I – we - need to live for.
A few weeks ago, I was talking to a friend who is preparing to move with her husband and two young children to a small town in Uganda. I was explaining my restlessness and discontent, and my wrestling and questions regarding missions and my calling. I said, “I keep trying to forget about all this, to just leave it all behind and pretend like it never happened so I can be ‘normal’ again…but it’s not working (I hear some of you laughing already…I concede…I have probably always been a handful of fries short of being a normal Happy Meal). Missions and ministry and poverty and orphans and the suffering – and how the Body is supposed to respond to these people and issues - are still all I think about, all I want to talk about.” She quietly replied, “Leah, it’s a gift.” “What if it’s a gift I don’t want?!?” I wailed. “It’s so hard, there’s so much sacrifice, it stretches the crap outta me!!!!! But it’s the only place I have found true life,” I continued more quietly, “the place where I grew into an intimacy with the living Christ that I wouldn’t give up for the world.” Following God overseas was where the following Scripture went from words on a page to life-giving reality for me:
“If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?”
For me, it has been in the most scary and difficult decisions to follow God’s call, whether that was to North Park to school, or overseas again and again, that I have lost my life…and found it. How, having tasted the sweetness of intimacy with the Risen Christ, can I now turn my back and walk away from wherever else He calls me?
I saw a picture in my mind a few weeks ago of Jesus hanging on the cross and me on my face before Him. He asked me, “Where would you not go for me? What will you not give up for me?” In light of all He has given, daily gives, and will give in the future – His ALL - how can I give Him anything less than all my life, my time, my money, my resources, my possessions, my desires, my dreams, my comforts, my securities? Paul was right, my friends, it’s all rubbish…trash, dung, pointless, worth absolutely NOTHING, compared to knowing him, the TRUE life he gives, the joy, freedom, comfort, and companionship he brings. All these things on earth that we strive and strain to acquire and achieve, and then worry and fret over – IT’S ALL GOING TO BURN!!!!!!!!!!! What a beautiful, FREEING thought - that it’s ALL going to burn one day soon!!!! Woo-hoo, what FREEDOM!!!!!! So in light of this, why are we living for that stuff now, anyway?!?
I have been realizing again lately how quickly time is just FLYING by…according to Scripture, our lives are a vapor, a mist; we are here today and gone tomorrow. So the burning question inside of me is, “How am I going to spend this short time I have been given??? How am I going to use my “mist”?? I am realizing that every single one of us will work our butts off for something, give our lives to some cause, because that is how we are made…we are made to give our lives to something. So what cause are you giving your life to? Achievement? Skinniness and appearance? A growing bank account? Bigger, newer cars and houses? Other’s approval? Making yourself as happy and entertained and comfortable as possible? What are you living for? What am I living for? Am I going to work my butt of and give my life for things with only earthly value, or am I going to give up earthly “treasures” for heavenly ones?
So lately, scared of the answer, I have been asking in the quietest whisper possible, “Lord, what is your calling for me for this season of my life?” But I think I already know the answer. My heart is yelling and crying out what my mind is scared to hear. My calling is to go to the nations and tell them the hope of Jesus; to sit with the poor and the suffering, knowing I cannot heal their hearts or solve their hunger; to continue to allow my heart to be broken for the things that break His heart, though that means pain for me; to continue to have my eyes opened to the one-third of our world that is starving, the vast numbers of unemployed, the millions upon millions of children without mothers and fathers; and the billions who are dead while they live because they don’t have an intimate relationship with the living Christ. What is my response to be to this? Yours? What is our response supposed to be as the Body, as Jesus with skin on, to this world full of broken, lonely, hurting, oppressed, starving, confused, lied to captives? What are we doing to be intentional about feeding, loving, serving, walking alongside, healing, breaking free? Not that it’s you or me, but it is the living Christ, the God of the whole universe, who lives INSIDE you and inside me, and who works through our mouths, our words, our hands, and our feet. This is what I am desperately seeking from the Lord: “Lord, what do you want my response to be??”
A few weeks ago, I was talking to a friend who is preparing to move with her husband and two young children to a small town in Uganda. I was explaining my restlessness and discontent, and my wrestling and questions regarding missions and my calling. I said, “I keep trying to forget about all this, to just leave it all behind and pretend like it never happened so I can be ‘normal’ again…but it’s not working (I hear some of you laughing already…I concede…I have probably always been a handful of fries short of being a normal Happy Meal). Missions and ministry and poverty and orphans and the suffering – and how the Body is supposed to respond to these people and issues - are still all I think about, all I want to talk about.” She quietly replied, “Leah, it’s a gift.” “What if it’s a gift I don’t want?!?” I wailed. “It’s so hard, there’s so much sacrifice, it stretches the crap outta me!!!!! But it’s the only place I have found true life,” I continued more quietly, “the place where I grew into an intimacy with the living Christ that I wouldn’t give up for the world.” Following God overseas was where the following Scripture went from words on a page to life-giving reality for me:
“If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?”
For me, it has been in the most scary and difficult decisions to follow God’s call, whether that was to North Park to school, or overseas again and again, that I have lost my life…and found it. How, having tasted the sweetness of intimacy with the Risen Christ, can I now turn my back and walk away from wherever else He calls me?
I saw a picture in my mind a few weeks ago of Jesus hanging on the cross and me on my face before Him. He asked me, “Where would you not go for me? What will you not give up for me?” In light of all He has given, daily gives, and will give in the future – His ALL - how can I give Him anything less than all my life, my time, my money, my resources, my possessions, my desires, my dreams, my comforts, my securities? Paul was right, my friends, it’s all rubbish…trash, dung, pointless, worth absolutely NOTHING, compared to knowing him, the TRUE life he gives, the joy, freedom, comfort, and companionship he brings. All these things on earth that we strive and strain to acquire and achieve, and then worry and fret over – IT’S ALL GOING TO BURN!!!!!!!!!!! What a beautiful, FREEING thought - that it’s ALL going to burn one day soon!!!! Woo-hoo, what FREEDOM!!!!!! So in light of this, why are we living for that stuff now, anyway?!?
I have been realizing again lately how quickly time is just FLYING by…according to Scripture, our lives are a vapor, a mist; we are here today and gone tomorrow. So the burning question inside of me is, “How am I going to spend this short time I have been given??? How am I going to use my “mist”?? I am realizing that every single one of us will work our butts off for something, give our lives to some cause, because that is how we are made…we are made to give our lives to something. So what cause are you giving your life to? Achievement? Skinniness and appearance? A growing bank account? Bigger, newer cars and houses? Other’s approval? Making yourself as happy and entertained and comfortable as possible? What are you living for? What am I living for? Am I going to work my butt of and give my life for things with only earthly value, or am I going to give up earthly “treasures” for heavenly ones?
So lately, scared of the answer, I have been asking in the quietest whisper possible, “Lord, what is your calling for me for this season of my life?” But I think I already know the answer. My heart is yelling and crying out what my mind is scared to hear. My calling is to go to the nations and tell them the hope of Jesus; to sit with the poor and the suffering, knowing I cannot heal their hearts or solve their hunger; to continue to allow my heart to be broken for the things that break His heart, though that means pain for me; to continue to have my eyes opened to the one-third of our world that is starving, the vast numbers of unemployed, the millions upon millions of children without mothers and fathers; and the billions who are dead while they live because they don’t have an intimate relationship with the living Christ. What is my response to be to this? Yours? What is our response supposed to be as the Body, as Jesus with skin on, to this world full of broken, lonely, hurting, oppressed, starving, confused, lied to captives? What are we doing to be intentional about feeding, loving, serving, walking alongside, healing, breaking free? Not that it’s you or me, but it is the living Christ, the God of the whole universe, who lives INSIDE you and inside me, and who works through our mouths, our words, our hands, and our feet. This is what I am desperately seeking from the Lord: “Lord, what do you want my response to be??”
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