New Blog Site

Since blogger is blocked where I will be serving, a new blogsite is under construction and will be up and running soon. I will post information once it is ready but until then, you're in the right spot. Stay tuned!

Romanticizing the Field

In less than a month, in fact, to be specific, June 26th, I am scheduled to travel halfway around the world with only a few bags, land in Africa, and begin a journey so far out of my comfort zone that a blog post seems comical in expressing it. I will have had almost a year to plan, pray and prepare for what lies ahead. Yet, to be honest with you, I couldn't feel more unprepared. Let me be clear before I proceed, I know God is my strength, my refuge, a very present help, and will never leave nor forsake me. I will not back down, give up, turn back or any other profound phrase I can conjure up. But, I am human. A friend reminded me last night that to not have fear would be supernatural and God uses the natural (that would be me) to do the supernatural.

I am a fixer. Problem equals fix. There's always a solution, right? Perhaps that may be true on some level, whether that be a literal or a spiritual fix. However, it can also be unhealthy and I freely and publicly admit it. Some things don't require fixing, they don't involve quick solutions, they require time spent with God, as well as discipline; disciplines of transforming our minds and hearts from old to new. So, to remove my fear simply by saying, take my fear, and believe it is gone and will not return, is not a real solution. As I was also reminded last night by my gracious friend, we can look at our bag of problems, fears, etc., and say "Jesus, take this," but often He says, no, let's take it together. Could He take it? Absolutely. But the process of refining, taking out our trash, is more important in the long run, and He is far more interested in our holiness than He is our happiness. Some see that as harsh. To be sure, I don't take pleasure in the fiery furnace. However, I know many parents and have listened to them say, time and again, it is better to allow your child to fail and learn from their failures, than to fix it yourself. God is no different. He invented parenting.

With the days winding down, I often hear "I am so excited for you!" "You must be so thrilled!" "It is going to be amazing!" Truth? While I love God with all of my heart and soul, while I love the people of Africa, while my deepest desires surround the Gospel and making a difference in the lives of those in desperate circumstances, I am not excited. Why? Consider a soldier during World War I, II, or any other battle throughout our history. In the days before he was to leave, upon hearing "you must be excited," how do you think he would have responded? No, I am not excited. My heart is heavy, very. My heart is broken, because I know, as much as one can know, there is nothing exciting about a soldier heading out to war and equally there is nothing romantic about the mission field. There is nothing romantic about about seeing children sleep huddled up in the corners and crevices of some of the filthiest and darkest of places. There is nothing exciting about disease, starvation and death that could be alleviated with just a few dollars. There is absolutely nothing beautiful about girls being sold into prostitution and slavery before they can form sentences or even hit puberty. Nothing romantic at all. But, I believe there is hope.

While I don't pretend to understand how soldiers feel having walked in some of the most grueling battlefields of past wars, I believe they saw their purpose, just as I see a purpose in what I am about to do. I am trying as best as any soldier, to prepare for the battle that lies ahead. Where I lack in excitement, I make up in faith, and that is what it is all about for us who Believe, faith. I have faith that we can, by the grace and only by the grace of God, make a difference in this world. I have faith that my God had some reason for choosing someone as unlikely as me, to be a part of what He is doing in Africa. Above all and most importantly, as a woman of faith, I believe that the death of Jesus was and will always be, more than enough reason for me to go. So, with my face planted on the ground, my heart set on things above, I am facing my fears, and trusting that He who has said "go... and I will be with you always and til the end of age (Matthew 28: 19-20, paraphrased) will guide my every step. With that in mind, I can breathe a sigh of relief.

At The Foot of The Cross

Easter, a time when many are frantically running around purchasing last minute items to throw in their children's Easter basket, assuring the sugar coma goes off without a hitch and families gather together for church and celebration. Don't get me wrong, I'm currently munching on one of the many mini chocolate eggs that were graciously given to me today. But, it's more, it is so much more than chocolate bunnies and cute frilly outfits donned on little girls and giant (and scary I might add) adults dressed in bunny costumes. It's about Christ, the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

 Yesterday, as I journeyed through the stations of the cross, a beautiful exhibit at my church, I humbly experienced Jesus in the hours leading up to His death. As I prayed, read scripture, contemplated the immense price that was paid because of my sins, I must admit, I could hardly maintain my composure. With beautiful music exploding in the background, scents of frankincense and myrrh filling my lungs, scripture flashing on the projector screens, the echo of the hammer pounding nails into the cross as people drove their sins, fears and concerns into a cross set up as the last station, I wept. As I knelt at a bench across from the Garden of Gethsemane, it hit me; just how human He really was. Scripture says, He was sorrowful, His soul was sorrowful to the point of death. It also says: "And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will." (Matthew 26:39). As I sat on this bench, hearing the echo of the nail driving into the cross behind me, I pictured Jesus on His knees scared and crying out to God to let this cup, this cup being the wrath of God on mans sins, MY SINS, pass if it be so, yet fully willing to take it, I was speechless.

I sat there for what seem like hours but was instead minutes, contemplating the countless times I ask God to let things pass from me. The times of fear and uncertainty at what lies ahead, the times of frustration in waiting, the remembrances of the past and even the guilt of things I obviously had yet to release to the cross and I just thought to myself, none of that compares to the cup that was placed on the back of Jesus that day.. None of them. And while I know that He cares about my hopes, my dreams and relieves my fears and doubts, I was reminded to accept the cup that I have been given, or the cup that has yet to come, in the grace of knowing the one that I will never receive-because it was taken for me.

I don't know about you, but having that reminder gave me an incredible sorrow and yet and astounding peace. Three words changed everything. It is finished. (John 19:30 ESV)
Indeed it is. Thank you Jesus.

 Happy Easter!

Through Their Eyes

In an age where information is literally everywhere, on the internet, Facebook, Twitter, Television, pretty much anywhere you can turn your head, the only privacy one has left is in their own head. Which, if I am being completely honest, is where I like to keep it. I have often heard from people that I don't post enough Blogs, FB status's or tweets about personal things, just scriptures and quotes. What can I say, I'm a words person, it's one of my two love languages. Words, scriptures, quotes, they encourage and inspire me, so I share what touches me; I like sharing them with others, in the hopes (not expectation) they might encourage others. Transparency is important to me, particularly in my walk with God, so there is nothing I won't share if I am asked, but if I am true to myself, I just won't always put it on the internet. 


This post however, is definitely transparent. It has taken months to write and countless conversations from my friends and loved ones.


God placed something on my heart, heavily, on my last mission trip to Africa. At first it was sort of a subtle whisper, in fact I could barely hear it despite my desperation in understanding why I was feeling this deep pull. At first I just began to pray, asking God, "why did you bring me here," and "what could I possibly do to make a difference?" As time passed, this "heavy" feeling kept weighing on me until I couldn't ignore it any longer. Then, God began dropping His mountain-sized hints, in some of the craziest ways. Honestly, I'm not sure how Moses kept his wits about him standing before a burning bush. I, myself, was spectacularly less calm and composed. At first I ignored, then I denied calling it "crazy" and finally, I threw in the towel. He's God. I'm just a girl. He has me beat by a HUGE technicality. So I threw crazy out of my vocabulary, began praying intently, and waited for God to move. Well, He moved.


I have always been drawn to stories, particularly true, real-life stories. Stories of struggle, joy, more so, triumph. In all my experiences, it has always been people's stories that have had the most impact on others.  So, when I looked into the eyes of the children in Africa, when I heard their stories, they impacted me greatly and I wanted to know more, and more importantly I wanted to share them with others. I feel we live in a world numb to statistics. I can tell you that there are 147,000,000 orphans, or that some 27,000 children die every day of starvation, or even 100,000 people live in an area of Eastern Africa where they search through a local trash dump for food and scraps to sell. But, if I show you a picture, tell you one particular child's story, it has a deeper impact; it's personal. I believe that is exactly what God wants, for them to be as personal to us as they are to Him. With that in mind, He has given me the idea to create a ministry called ThroughTheirEyes, with the vision that every face has a name, every name has a story, and every story has an impact. I will start in Ethiopia and perhaps some surrounding East African countries. 

In this new chapter of ministry/life God has called me to, the ministry and vision that God has given me has been adopted by the Board of Directors of a new non-profit missionary sending organization called Project World Mission (their website is under construction). This means I will be employed through Project World Mission and they will send and support me as a missionary to Africa! Project World Mission’s vision is to “Preach the Gospel, Of the Kingdom, To the World (Matthew 24:14).”

The Project World Mission ministry project that will be started in Africa will be the ministry and calling God placed on my life, called ThroughTheirEyes. In keeping with the vision statement of Project World Mission, the ministry project ThroughTheirEyes will seek to first and foremost proclaim the Gospel of Jesus to those in Ethiopia and the surrounding countries. In addition to this primary vision, the 6 to 12 month overseas assignment will also seek to develop other ministry partnerships by working alongside existing churches or orphanages, and/or working with other like-minded Christ-Followers in the area. In short, the focus will be on building relationships and potential future ministry partners, as well as telling the story of the people of Ethiopia/Africa to the body of Christ here in the United States. I trust that this will in turn result in advancing the gospel of God’s love to the Ethiopian people and surrounding areas. With God the possibilities of ministry are endless, and I look forward to what we can and will do with this international assignment.

I feel completely inadequate, but repeat (and quite frequently I might add) the first scripture that came to mind when God put this on my heart: For consider your calling, brothers, not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong, 1 Corinthians 1:26-28. 

I'm a little scared too, if I am being honest. It's a faith-journey like none other for me, leaving home, fundraising and trusting every need for this calling will be met, but more important than my fleshly fears, I want to help. I want to make a difference. I want to be challenged and more than this "I " focus, want for THEM to know the love of Christ. I want for others to know the incredible grace that we as believers have been given. I want children who are orphaned to know His love, to have food in His name, to have clothes, medical care, and education, in His name. And this Hope, I deeply desire for everyone to know, has no price tag with which I can put on it. 

I don't have everything figured out, I don't know every step I will take, but this journey is about faith. I don't have to see, I just have to trust. And, God, I trust You.

I simply ask for encouragement and prayers through this journey, as I know this won't be easy. To quote Bethany Hamilton in Soul Surfer, "I don't need easy, I just need possible." There are a lot of unknowns in this, but one incredibly amazing, beautiful, known..with God, all things are possible. Matthew 9:26

Will I Be Chosen

"Why are you so passionate about orphans?" This is a question often posed at me, when I partner with others to serve the orphaned in the world. Despite the fact I could simply say it's Biblical and end the conversation there, the truth of the matter is, I do have my own personal reasons.

First, it IS biblical. There are over 2000 commands in the Bible for us as believers to reach out to the poor, the needy, the widowed, the orphaned. The Bible is often read with one intent, what's in it for me. As an example, the number one response to the question "why did Jesus die" is typically "for my sins." While that may be true in part, that is NOT the reason Jesus died on the cross. For theologians, words like 'propitiation, justification, redemption, reconciliation' come to mind. All Biblical words used in explaining the transferral of our sin onto Christ for the purpose of satisfying, justly, the wrath of God on man's sin, and reconciling us back to a restored relationship with God. It was an act of love by an overwhelmingly gracious God, for His glory. If we read and study the Word of God simply for the purpose of "what's in it for me," we will never understand the fullness of Gods plan or our role in it.

Second, I grieve, deeply for the fatherless of the world. I read recently on the Department of Human Services website, that some fourty-three percent of all children born in the US  are born to single mothers. That is almost HALF! That number absolutely astounded me. In addition, there are more than 147,000,000 orphans in the world. I am acutely aware America has its own supply of fatherless and orphaned, as evidenced by a common response often voiced to me "why go so far as Africa when we have people suffering in our own backyards." The problem in hearing that response is that it typically originates from the lips of those who neither work nor pose solutions to rectify that situation in their backyard, much less any other yard. I have learned from my own repeated failures, opinions never outweigh solutions.

But think about those staggering numbers. That is 147,000,000 children, right now, across the globe, who go to bed every night wondering "will I be chosen?" Will I be loved? Will anybody come for me? Or worse, "what is wrong with me?" Even still, of those 147,000,000 orphaned children, a large majority of them do not have food, shelter, clothing, education, access to clean water or medical care. In some cases, in fact many, we are talking babies who take care of babies. Children who head up the family at the age of three or even younger. Hidden within the shelter of a trash dump, a bridge, the cover of a cardboard box or amongst a few sheets of scrap metal, assembled to assume the makings of a home; this is where you can commonly find them. I literally mourn for the children of the world, who will grow up hardened to the idea of love, out of fear of loss. I am brokenhearted for the generations of children who will statistically, without the love of Christ, grow up and repeat the fatherless cycle. 

Third, I get it. I understand in my own way, through my own testimony, the heart of an orphan. At one point, I too asked the question, "will I be chosen?" It was answered in Christ. Oh how beautifully it was answered. A sweet friend recently said, "you have a beautiful story." I can't tell you how much that touched me. What touched me most despite my friends kind words, was the sheer magnitude of Gods grace. The fact that I can smile from ear to ear at my friend and say "I KNOW" and mean it wholeheartedly and with zero anger, bitterness or reservation, is evidence of that grace. I stand on the promises of God, in Christ, because I live daily under the assurance of His mercy in a deep and profound way. I bear the healed scars. I walk in light of where I've been, knowing fully where I am going. But, the truth is, each of us has an incredible story of grace.

Therefore, the why I am so passionate has deep meaning for me. It is a privilege to walk hand in hand through the fields of Cambodia sharing my story with teenaged orphan girls, just to hear the words "sister, your story like me," knowing that in some way it brings her comfort and gives her hope. It is an honor to hold an abandoned infant, praying fervently that somewhere in the world there is a family who will work tirelessly to bring her home. It is a gift to sift through trash, roll through red-dirt, trudge through mud, to bring food, clothing, shoes and the Good News of Christ to those most in need. Not because I need to, not because I even "want" to, but because I HAVE to. I cannot stand at the gates of a hospital as a voluntary physician who possesses a solution, who knows assuredly she has a cure, and yet pretend I don't see? What if that were me? What if that were my child? What if it were me who sat frozen in my crib, silent, because even at the age of one, experience has taught -no one is listening, no one is coming. Would I turn away?

I would like to believe if I profess to be a believer, the answer would be no. Most certainly, no. Call it passion, call it crazy, I prefer to call it love...

Amazing Weekend-Thank You

Last weekend I had the distinct pleasure of a whirlwind weekend in Dallas. The purpose of my trip was to spend time with some of my favorite people in the world and given the sadness I felt driving away, I knew it was indeed a successful time.

My weekend began with a four hour drive from Houston to Dallas. Heading down the highway with the sun peering through my windows, great tunes blaring through my stereo and the biggest smile on my face, I couldn't help but thank God for some alone time to think/pray and just give thanks. It has been a whirlwind eight months since my first return from East Africa and God has been doing things that have  propelled me to the mountaintop and allowed things that have kept me in the valley. Through the vast ocean of uncertainty with where and what He is calling me to do, I have seen and experienced His provision and love in ways that just don't seem measurable when putting to words. Nonetheless, lets just say, He is mighty, He is faithful and when He says move, well, He pretty much means it. More to come on this in the future...

Upon arrival in Dallas, I quickly unloaded my bags at my sweet bestie Rachel's house (sadly Rachel and family were out of town but gifted me with their home for the weekend) and headed to spend quality time with my best friend, her hubby, http://thosecrazypeelers.wordpress.com/ and some of their incredible friends. Kids running in and out of the house, food grilling and laughter flowing, all while relaxing on the porch swing-I'm really not sure what can be better than that. There is so much beauty in the simplicity of life and it is moments like that, looking around at the sheer joy in each others company, which simply take my breath away. I could have sat on that porch swing with her all night long.

The next morning I headed out to Arlington to spend the day with my sister from another mother, her hubby and my favorite Ethiopian princess http://littlehoffman.blogspot.com/.

Little did I know that the gift of spending time with them wasn't the only thing in store for me. In addition, I would be blessed by meeting new friends http://www.teamalexander.blogspot.com/. When you have time, I encourage you to read through some of their journey and the incredible impact both families, through God's grace, are trying to make in the world and Africa.

Again, a day filled with joy, laughter, smiles and celebration of their sweet son Abe's third birthday. To be honest, now that I am home, I miss the chaos of family life. Single-life is highly overrated and the selfishness that often surrounds just worrying about self is nothing compared to the love and joy that encompasses family-life. I would trade places in a heartbeat!

That evening the Hoffmans and I headed out to a mutual friends wedding in Ft Worth. I love weddings. I do. I admit it. I am a sappy, romantic, love celebrations and I do's kind of girl. But this wedding was even more special to me, because it brought together some people that have impacted my life in ways they probably don't even know they have.

All of us that knew each other there have served in Africa together. We have been in the trenches. We have prayed together, wept together, laughed together. We have seen devastation. We have seen beauty. We have bonded for life. Each of them is so precious to me, and so amazing in their own ways. Some of them have the power to encourage just with a smile. Some of them speak words that I believe could bring peace to a restless nation. Some of them have a way of making you laugh so hard your sides ache. Some of them light up a room simply by entering. All of them encourage me. All of them inspire me and make me want to be a better woman. All of them are family.

To best friends who have made my life more rich and with whom my love is endless (even the ones not present that weekend in Dallas), to new friends who encourage me beyond words, to old friends who I love more each day as we journey through life's ups and downs together and to an incredible group of people whose love for others knows no boundary, thank you for simply being who God has created you to be. I can wholeheartedly say, I am a better person simply by knowing you!

I thank my God every time I remember you. Philippians 1:3

Frank

As my car eased into the parking spot and I placed the gear in park, I glanced up and saw him sitting with his back against the wall, sleeping on the pavement outside of the grocery store. Immediately I knew I was going to go up to him and introduce myself, maybe if I was lucky, I would make a new friend. As I grabbed my purse, stepped out of my car and began walking towards the man, his eyes slowly opened as if he had been expecting me. "Hi" I said. "What is your name?" "Frank," he responded. "Well Frank, my name is Tamara, it is really nice to meet you. Are you going to be here for a few minutes? I'll be right back." "OK," he simply replied.
As I walked through the grocery store thinking about what Frank might like to eat, I shuffled from aisle to aisle thinking, why didn't I just ask him what his favorite foods are? I'm still learning, I guess. I decided a safe bet would be just to get a sandwich with some chips and a cookie. Not the healthiest of options, but arguably the easiest given the circumstances. After getting the things I came for and going through the checkout line, I exited the building, turned the corner, and found Frank pushing the carts to the building. I walked up and said, "Frank, I didn't know what you would like, but here is some dinner." I handed him the bag of food and the few dollars I had in my wallet. He simply said, "thank you." He didn't strike up a conversation, he didn't ogle over the gift God had placed on my heart to give my new friend, and to expect such would be for the wrong reason. "Frank, it was really nice to meet you, I have been in some difficult situations before in my own life; I just wanted to help in any way I could. And I just want you to know that you are loved; God loves you." Again, he said, "thank you." As I started to walk away I said "Frank, you take care of yourself, OK." He just sat back down on the filthy pavement and leaned his tired back against the wall.
It was a quick meeting. It didn't change Frank's life, of that I am certain. But it was what God placed on my heart to do.
As I walked away, all I could think of, were those little moments in life that have the greatest impact. Frank was one of those moments.
It only takes a second to change someones life, and by someone, I mean me.

Narrow Road

Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. Matthew 7:13


May this video encourage us to consider what lane we are in, and vear to the one God has called us very clearly to be in. May we study the Bible, and fervantly, particularly in an age of rampant false teaching, but more than just for memorization-for application!

Francis Chan-The New Middle Road

Note: People often misunderstand videos like this. Don't take this video out of context, this is not a theological debate, works do not save us. We put the Bible to practice tangibly because we are saved, and because over and over Jesus exemplified and laid out, how we are to LIVE as Christians. Radical is not a word that should, when expressed, tickle our ears with fury or frustration, but rather fan the flame with excitement in returning the gift that was so amply given, through the cross, to us.
With that in mind, radical has no place in our vocabulary, just obedience out of love.

So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead. James 2:17 (English Standard Version)



It Matters To That One

Apparently this story has been around for years, but I recently read it in a chapter of -The Whole in Our Gospel by Richard Sterns. It really touched me, particularly in thinking about the constant battle of explaining to people, including Christians, why it is important that we go, why we take the Gospel to the ends of the earth. In a culture of numbers and looking at things based on a scale, especially in considering our effictiveness, this story encouraged me in why we should continue to fly across the globe even if we touch just one hand, one heart, one soul. Here is the story:

One early morning, after a fierce storm had hit the coast, I strolled to the beach for my morning walk. Horrified, I saw that tens of thousands of starfish had been washed up on the beach by the winds and waves. I was saddened by the realization that all of them would die, stranded on the shore, away from the life-giving water. Despairing that there was nothing I could do, I sat down on the sand and put my head in my hands.
But then I heard a sound, I lifted my eyes. There, in the distance, I saw a man bending down and then standing up, bending down and standing up. Curious, I rose and walked toward him. I saw that he was picking up the starfish, one at a time, and throwing them back into the sea.

"What are you doing?' I yelled.
"Saving the starfish," he replied.
"But don't you see, man that there are tens of thousands of them?"
I asked, incredulous. "Nothing you can do will make a difference."

He did not answer me but bent down, picked up another starfish, and cast it back into the water. Then he smiled, looked me in the eye, and said, "It made a difference to that one!"
Adapted from Loren Eiseley, The Star Thrower (New York: Harvest, 1979)

Why do we go? Because it matters to that one. And because they matter to God, they matter to me.

Do you see me?

I have heard that in some countries, in distant lands far away, three year olds like myself are learning how to decipher between their ABC's and 123's. I hear stories of loving parents- both moms and dads, play-gyms, water parks, stuffed animals, big cozy bedrooms filled with things bought or designed specifically for you, drawers overflowing with clothes, and all-you-can eat ice cream, none of which I have ever experienced and still the child in me leaps with imagination! I heard once that when it is your birthday, your parents throw you extravagant parties filled with enough food for an entire village, enough candy to go around for weeks, clowns, ponies or whatever characters you desire, and the presents, oh the presents, they pile up faster than you know what to do with them! Despite my young age, I know that fairy tales are just that, but these stories I hear of children far away I am told are not fiction they are absolutely true. Maybe it is silly but I dream of going there. Not occasionally, not every now and then, I dream of it daily.

You see, it all began one sunny afternoon during a break between classes, where my mother ventured outside school to get a snack, only to wake up in a brothel. She was just twelve years old. In the beginning she fought, and hard. She hurled punches with every ounce of her strength; screamed until her lungs felt as if they would explode. Eventually once the starvation and beatings became severe enough to fear today may be her last, she quit fighting. Then came the dreams- dreams of the police, a family member, a white knight, somebody, anybody, would brave the danger and rescue her. But, when the days became months, which turn into years, and no one comes down a tower to rescue you, you just become numb. All the while, sex-slavery begins at day one. And with every vicious thrust, innocence is shattered and a tiny piece of you dies. Pregnancy is inevitable, but the solution is unfathomable. It is not uncommon for a woman to endure multiple forced abortions. Under little, if any, anesthetic, these procedures are basically butcher jobs and the “employees” are sent back to the “office” within a few hours. Infections and complications are irrelevant to the profit margin; business must go on.

You see, where I come from, a land thousands of miles from the fairy tales I hear of, things are different. I was born into a brothel. I do not know who my father is, nor does my mother. He was just one of the clients she is forced to service on a daily basis. And I was one of the lucky survivors. I have never had my own bedroom, or my own bed. Most days you will find me either roaming the streets with other children or curled up underneath my mother's bed while she works. My imagination is my only escape. 

Our room is the size of a small closet. The air is filled with thick humidity, mildew, sweat and body odor, animals, spices and smoke. The noise, it never stills. It is a constant circle of voices; often yelling, heavy feet climbing stairs, women being paraded in and out like cattle on sale in a stockyard. There is no peace.

At night my mom tells me more of these fairy tales, these incredible visions of life in that distant land, she tells me we will go there someday, and I want to believe her, sometimes I almost do, except I can see the tears welling up in her eyes and I know…

I want to believe, I have to believe that we are not invisible, that somebody sees us. Does anybody see us?

Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute. Proverbs 31:8

Who's coming with me?

The other night, as I ignored my adult responsibilities and the mountain of checklists that danced around my brain shouting "i'm not going to take care of myself," I saw a snippet from the movie Jerry Maguire. In the beginning of the movie, right after Jerry is sacked from his job and loses just about all of his clients, he begins to exit his office and in a fit, an emotionally pride-charged rage, he tells the office he won't do what they expect, which is flip out. During this fit, he gives this grandiose speech about starting something new and encourages his co-workers to jump ship and come with him. To quote: “Now, if you come with me, this will be the moment of something new, and fun, and inspiring in this god forsaken business. And we will do it together. Who's coming with me?" Now, bear with me; my inspiration comes from all sorts of places. As I heard this speech, I imagined God speaking, I imagined God saying, "I am starting something new, something inspiring, in the midst of this world, are you with me?" I couldn't help but smile because I find it comical that I could hear something completely different, a message of inspiration, from a ten second clip of a fictional movie.


In the opening scenes of Jerry Maguire, Jerry is having an epiphany about the nature of the business he works in and the lack of human value it has. He says "we live in a cynical world." There is a lot of truth to that statement, that we live in a cynical world. For the most part we would just as soon shake off the notion of doing anything out of the ordinary, simply to keep peace and comfort as a standard for our lives. We would prefer to focus on what we can see, instead of what we can't and thus would require complete and total faith. But on the flip side, we are cynical in that we don’t think we can make a difference, even if we did follow that still quiet voice beckoning after us. And the truth is-we can’t. But He can.

Irony. Calling ourselves christians, serving a Sovereign, All Knowing, All Powerful, loving, God. Yet the faith that we often preach, when tested, results in running like school children headed out for recess. When God stands before us, shouting for us to follow Him in the direction of something new, something inspiring, we stop and considerately weigh the pros and cons, the risks involved and the chances of success, or more importantly, the failure. As if following God is on the same level as putting money in the ever-fluctuating stock market. Now don’t misunderstand me. We are called to be discerning. There is absolute value in wisdom and discernment. In fact, they are what I pray for most. I pray to hear His voice before I take a single step in any direction. Every venture needs to be soaked in prayer and confirmed by God. But we are called to live a life that reflects the faith we preach. And too often we look at the examples of the past, both biblically and historically and presume we are not fit to be in that category. Not in the sense of inferiority but ability. We simply look at the examples of people like Moses, Noah, Hudson Taylor, Amy Carmichael and couldn’t begin to see ourselves do anything remotely on that same level. We feel completely inadequate and quite frankly, we should-in and of our own strength. None of what we do for God has anything at all to do with us, but all for His Kingdom, His glory. But, He uses the simpletons like you and me. He uses the weak to shame the wise (1 Corinthians 1:27). It’s not about success, or even failure, it is about faith. We are not adequate, of that we are correct. But, God is adequate, and that is all we need to know.
Martin Luther King, Jr said “Faith is about taking the first step even when you don’t see the entire staircase.” So I wonder. What would be your response if God were to beckon you with those same words “who’s coming with me?”

Forgive us God, for being so focused inward. Forgive us for being focused on the results, for the vision at the end, for wanting to take that first step, but being afraid because we can’t see the entire staircase. Forgive us, because You are the end result. It’s all about you. It’s always been about You.

My Grown Up Christmas/New Years Wish List

New Years..A time of year when people reflect back with great nostalgia on the events that have circumvented their life. It's a time when one stops and reminisces both with joy and sometimes sadness, over the happenings of the last year of this so-called thing known as life. What is it about this time of year that produces something within us that feels it necessary to make changes, more so than any other time of the year. What is it that stops us dead in our tracks and makes us think of the many blessings we have, as well as the piles of changes we feel necessary to make in order to "better" ourselves? Well, don't expect me to open the floodgates of wisdom, I'm just a voice hiding behind a keyboard, banging away some lingering thoughts. But, I did some reflecting of my own about 2010 and came up with my own grown up Christmas and New Years wishes. They are just some of my dreams and changes I would love to see in the world and myself. Without any rhyme or reason and not in any particular or edited order, here are the first things that came to my mind:

1. I wish that the 147,000,000 orphans in the world would be adopted and no longer feel the sting of being fatherless
2. I wish that we would let go of our expectations of what we think our lives should look like and see the beauty of letting God map things out-even and especially if He changes plans radically, as He often does.
3. I wish that we would learn to love each other, really and truly love each other.
4. Given number 3, I wish that we would learn to love without expectation, particularly of perfection or of anyone being able to love or know you as only God can.
5. In addition to 3 and 4, I wish that we would love people who can't love us in return and have absolutely nothing to give us.
6. I wish that Christians would reflect Christ in a loving way and not a legalistic, self-promoting, "I have a better walk than you" way.
7. In consideration of number 6, I wish that Christians would recognize the beauty and cost of the cross in which Christ died on, and live a life of surrender and obedience that reflects the relentless grace in which we were freely and with great love, given.
8. I wish that people would laugh more. The kind of laugh that comes from the heart and makes your sides ache from the extent of laughing you've done!
9. I wish that families would be healed and lives be restored.
10. I wish that we would deal with the past, heal any and all pain we have both suffered and caused and move on, knowing that life is short and the only person you are hurting by avoiding it, is you.
11. Upon reflection of number 10, I wish that no matter how much time has passed, we would recognize the value of simply saying to someone, "I'm sorry" and actually meaning it from the heart.
12. I wish that we would look to the poor and needy, with eyes of love instead of eyes of judgement or apathy.
13. I wish that 10% would not be a standard of tithing or giving and that when we consider those in need, we wouldn't just give them old and used things.
14. I wish that people would learn to really communicate with each other and respect each other enough to say both the hard and the good things; that pride would not be a factor of how we deal with each other.
15. I wish that hunger, AIDS, poverty, selfishness and greed would become obsolete.
16. I wish that people would keep in touch with each better.
17. I wish that people would say the word love when it counts and not as a closing to a text or an email to everyone you know.
18. I wish that we would eat more real food and less fake, boxed, processed, zero nutritional value, food. As well as exercise regularly and treat our bodies as God intended-throughout the whole year and not just after the first of every year.
19. I wish that Amos Lee and Ray Lamontagne would hold a private concert just for me. :)
20. I wish that people would stop waiting for the perfect time to take a dream vacation, or to burn that special candle and just do it; today is as perfect as any.
21. I wish more people would live the faith they claim and step out in BOLDNESS for God.
22. I wish we would stop making excuses.
23. I wish we would sometimes, inexplicably, and without explanation, live as children and do spontaneous, and maybe for some, completely out of character things.
24. Reflecting on 23, I wish more of us would be adults and handle our relationships, finances, jobs, lives with responsibility; understanding that there are consequences that come with our actions.
25. I wish we would dream big and believe in ourselves enough to get up and go live those dreams.
26. I wish that the world would come to know Christ for the beautiful, amazing, life-changing gift that He is to us and follow Him with every ounce of our being.
27. I wish that we would meet people where they are and be willing to stand by them through the difficult journey of change, with love and patience, instead of a critical and harsh spirit.
28. I wish that we would learn when to stay and when to gracefully walk away.
29. I wish that I will be able to feel the sand between my toes and the sun both rise and set over the Fijian Islands, and SOON!
30. I wish we would stop wishing..and by the grace of God, make things come true.

Happy New Year! May God open our eyes and our hearts to more of Him in 2011!

Why Africa?

It is not uncommon for people to ask why you go on short term mission trips. It's not even uncommon for people to snarl or crinkle their nose and say things like "what about the people in the US who have needs" or "why not just send them money" or my personal all-time favorite "I think it's awesome that you do that, I could never do that." It is my favorite because prior to my first trip, I thought the same way, only I thought I would NEVER do that-not that I couldn't. I don't say that from a critical spirit, and while I can understand where those questions come from, recently someone flat out asked me "why Africa?" This one was different. This one struck a cord with  me and quite frankly, I wanted to know why also. At the time, I brushed it off and didn't think much about it, until one restless, non-sleep filled night, as I laid in bed, tossing and turning, frustrated that I couldn't hit the off button on my mind and send myself into deep sleep, the question popped into my head "why Africa?" What is it about this place that keeps your heart and mind so consumed? So, I started pondering that question in the early hours of the morning..and this is what I came up with.


There are a hundreds of places, literally, that are in desperate need and some of them are as close as your own backyard, while some are as far around the world as one could travel. I didn't pick up a globe one day, spin it around, and plant my finger on the first place it stopped. I didn't drop a few countries in a hat and select it bingo style. I've traveled and done mission work in other countries and my love for them is no different than my love for the people of Africa; anymore than my love for any of Gods people is or should be. While I can remember always having a certain intrigue and interest in Africa, the truth is, I didn't choose Africa, Africa choose me, and long before I ever stepped foot on its soil. The politically correct Christian-ese answer might be "I believe God gives us all, individually, particular inclinations towards certain things." And while I absolutely believe that is true, that is not what draws me back time and again to Africa.


The people, the children-I think they they took one look at me, and they knew. They knew I would never be able to shake the red dirt off my feet. They knew that the sound of the African drum would forever resound in my mind. They knew I would look deep into their beautiful charcoal eyes and see beauty, wonder and hope. They knew I would gaze at the smiles of countless orphans and I would see myself. And that when I did, I would never be able to turn my eyes back toward a life that was dead-set on self-fulfilling motives.


Even with those realizations, I kept thinking and searching my heart for something a little more deep, tying my heart to Africa. As I continued to toss and turn, it came to me. Despite the amount of suffering and need that I have been witness to, I see a joy that far surpasses anything you can begin to imagine. While in some places they have grave need, absolutely, and no one would deny that, they find contentment in the simplest of things. They do not measure life in terms of what they do or don't have, but rather give thanks for their daily bread. And most often, in their case, it truly is just their daily bread


One of the things I cherish most about the people of Africa is their abundant generosity. A bracelet, a shirt, a meal, their last chicken, they would give it all to you, just to show you honor and thank you for being a part of their lives. Western visitors innately want to refuse gifts, because deep down you know it may be the only possession they own, but you don't, you shouldn't, because it would shatter them. To them, giving isn't a mathematical equation. There's no 10% calculation, no -let me fetch some old clothes, toys or leftovers for you, or let me see what I have left. No, to them, it is the way of their heart. Give first, think second.  They have shown me what it means to truly live sacrificially and that there is nothing on this earth more valuable than serving each other humbly.


More so, I cherish their uncanny ability to face the gravest of circumstances with a smile that could melt the polar ice caps and a hug, that could warm the hardest of hearts. And when they worship God, they REALLY worship God, as if He really is God and not a cosmic magician, or lamp-rubbing genie. Their faith is strong because God truly is all they have to look to, they are not clouded by possessions or distractions. They teach me so much more than I think I could ever teach them, and words cannot do justice to the amount of love and respect I have for them...


No, I didn't choose Africa. Africa choose me.

The Prosecution Rests

Criticism: 
a : the act of criticizing usually unfavorably criticism;
b : a critical observation or remark criticism;


Criticism. Despite my attempts to conceal my disdain for the way that some things are done, particularly in the Christian realm, sometimes I fail miserably. For the most part I keep things, particularly thoughts, to myself. But being passionate as I am, sometimes it is difficult to conceal those thoughts. It is hard to look at the world we live in, seeing the utter chaos and brokenness that exists-even in the church, and just sit back and smile. Passion has always been the driving force behind my pursuits, and it's spectacularly difficult for me to sit still when it's ingrained in me to do quite the opposite. So it becomes easy to then say, I know something can be done, because I've been a part of or seen others do it and criticize those who do nothing. Particularly those who preach, teach, disciple, know and understand fully what the Bible says about our brothers and sisters (not strangers) in need.
On the whole, I have to face the facts, I think we are missing the mark on a lot of things, myself included. We have hundreds of millions of orphans, hunger beyond human comprehension, homelessness at an alarming and all-time high, HIV spreading, millions of people who still have yet to hear the gospel of Christ -all the while passing the task on to everyone else. Love is not a calling, it is an action, a verb. And none who call themselves Christians are exempt.
But, lately, God has put this sort of bell in my head that rings when I realize that instead of inspiring, or encouraging people to give, go, or serve, I am instead being critical. I'm mature enough to admit it and to freely express the tendancy I yield to more often than I would like to admit. God is so clear about love being the answer, grace being the motivation, not guilt nor criticism. It wasn't until I saw it rear its ugly head at me that I began to see the effect it has. While waiting at a stoplight, a gentleman collecting funds for an organization tapped on my windshield and pointed to his bucket. I politely smiled and said no thank you, to which he angrily pounded his fist on my window while cluthching a coin and said "it's just a penny!" I shook my head no again and he begrudgingly walked away. I was flustered for about a second until I clearly heard God say, isn't that what you do when you assume people don't care because they don't give where you give, or go where you go, or aren't as passionate about the things I have made you passionate about? Like a ton of bricks crashing to the ground, my heart fell. "But that's not what I was doing God? I just want people to be inspired to go, give, serve- anywhere, not just where I am?" To which God said, "Are you sure?" Truth. I couldn't be sure.

Absolutely my heart screams for the least of these, and more than anything I want us as Christians to love others as the Bible calls us too, but the lesson I learned that day was that having a critical spirit is not the answer. That day reminded me of Jesus while hanging on the cross. Despite what he had just endured, He simply said "Forgive them father, for they do not know what they are doing." Luke 30:34 NIV

Forgive me Father. I am just a dumb sheep trying to make a difference. Thank you for your grace and for always showing me where I fall short, while pointing me back to the narrow path. May we lovingly but with persistance and passion-encourage, inspire and more importantly live a life of selflessness that needs no explanation, but leaves instead a mark and a legacy that screams to others-I want to serve that way too.

Understanding Thanks

A year ago during this same holiday season, nestled between two incredible mountains, snow falling and settling in blankets all around and sitting in front of a roaring fireplace, I celebrated Thanksgiving in Vancouver, Canada. Despite the nostalgia that reminds me of what an incredible Thanksgiving that was, I am even more still in awe of what a year has brought to my life; of the things that God has done and the changes that have resulted in my heart and life. And while most days I am completely baffled and if I was being quite honest, terrified, I am really, really thankful. 

I am thankful that my identity doesn't reside in my past but only in the incredible name of Jesus Christ. My identity isn't defined by the difficult childhood that I lived through or the adult life that I almost tragically destroyed time and time again with my infinitely disastrous decisions. I am thankful that I have never had the resolve to give up or quit; by the grace of God it just absolutely never occurs to me. I am thankful to beat every statistic and every odd the world has stacked against a girl who comes from circumstances as I did, and do it with a laugh and a smile, instead of a bitterness and a cynicism that plagues so many with troubled backgrounds. 

I am thankful that I choose to make seemingly foolish, spur-of-the-moment decisions like saving up funds and resigning from my then job to travel through Europe for a month. I muse at the memory of sitting in a cafe in Paris, strolling through the streets, gazing up at the Notre Dame Cathedral or the breathtaking view of Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower. I laugh at the expression on my face staring at the Mona Lisa and thinking how much bigger I thought she would be for one. And for two, feeling silly for thinking of how ironic it was for a girl like me to even be standing in front of the Mona Lisa at all. I remember the feel of air brushing my face, the smell of the water, as I traveled by trocadero or Italian taxi (boat) in Venice and having dinner on the canals of a truly beautiful city in Italy. I remember the rain falling in Rome and the bad timing of a terrible cold I caught, not stopping me from seeing this historic ancient city. I remember the long train rides between destinations and the strangers who sat beside me. I am thankful for the energy to climb the steps to Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria, Germany and the realization that I was standing in a room where Kings once laid. The adventure of Amsterdam and the culture of Prague in the Czech Republic still reside in the forefront of my mind as if it was yesterday, when the reality is that it was eleven years ago. I am thankful to have surfed the waves of Hawaii, hiked Diamondhead and taken in the view of the island of Oahu by helicopter. I love that I have combed the beaches of Mexico and skiied the slopes of Whistler, Canada just days before the winter Olympics. There is something majestic and almost child-like that happens in the midst of mountains and snowfall, I am convinced..

Despite having three universities on my transcript- one on the west coast, one on the east and one in the south (hey, they are all part of the adventure and play a significant part in who I am today), I am thankful that I choose to resume my college education at a later time in life, when again, no one would have doubted as to why I wouldn't. I am thankful to have the memory of walking across that stage and receiving my diploma at the ripe age of 29, realizing I was the first in my immediate family to have done so. I wish words could describe the emotions that welled up inside me on that day, the overwhelming joy and sense of accomplishment I felt at knowing I did it, I really did it. I figured out how to pay for it (well technically I am STILL paying for it), how to manage it, how to do it working full time and studying full time all while fighting the daily, and sometimes more frequent mind games of "you can't do this, just give up." I am thankful for the blessings in my career path that unfolded so effortlessly and the timing that seemed to know exactly when to present itself. I am thankful for the abrupt shift from corporate America to full-time ministry, despite my fleshly attempts at avoiding it each time I heard God whispering in my ear, "this way." I am thankful that God has designed me so that when I say I am going to do it, I absolutely know I am going to do it- come hell or high water, and quite often it's a combination of both. 

But what I am most thankful for, above all, above overcoming my past, seeing the world (which I must admit vehemently, changes the way you see everything) graduating from college, all of it, is the faith that I have been blessed with. It's a gift; I know it with every beat of my heart. My faith in God, in Christ, in the future, even though it is spectacularly difficult to trust sometimes, is a gift and not at all from within me, but all from my Father. I know without a shadow of a doubt that I couldn't muster an ounce of strength without the power of God. I am painfully aware of my weaknesses, and my inability to breathe, much less move without God calling it to be. And I am thankful for something that many are unable yet to give thanks for, and that is my story, my testimony. Every painful memory, every difficult trial, every last breath that has brought me to where I stand today and I wouldn't change a second of it, because I have come to realize that the view from the top of the mountain is much sweeter with the recognition of the sweat, the blood and the struggle it took to climb it. There isn't a climber in the world, a marathon runner, an Olympic athlete, who crosses the finish line or reaches the top of the soaring peak, and says, "it wasn't worth the fight." It's always worth the fight, everything worth having always is! Even more so is the realization that your story is for a purpose much greater than yourself or mastering the temporary things of this world such as success or material possessions. It wasn't until I set foot on Cambodian soil to serve orphans that I finally realized the reasons God had for allowing so many things to occur in my life. To hear girls say "you are like me sister" and to understand what they meant and how that encouraged them, literally changed my life. Since then, I have been able to use my story to encourage the orphaned in Zambia, South Africa, Ethiopia and Uganda and I know what God is calling me to do in the near future; it's only the beginning. It is scary, but absolutely exhilarating all in the same. 

You know, I used to wonder how Joseph did it. How he endured the unfair life that he was catapulted in by his brothers. How he lived through the loneliness of being abandoned by his own family, slavery, false imprisonment and just what that must have made him feel deep within. Even though I knew he ended up being in charge of the largest kingdom there was, I knew how his story ended, I still felt sorry for him because, well if I am being honest, I still felt sorry for me. Then one day, reading his story again, it all fell into place; it all made sense. He too had to go through the blood, the sweat and the struggle to see the view from the mountaintop. I no longer felt sorry for Joseph, or myself, I felt thanksgiving toward God for the stories He allows to be a part of and sorrowful for my finite mind and its painful inability to see the big picture. Now instead, I look up to Joseph for the way he humbly and gracefully handled every lot he was given in life, and second to Christ, aspire to be like him. Now I just look up at the top of the mountain and simply say, "i'm coming up." If my God is with me, then who or what can be against me. If my God is with me, there is nothing we, together, cannot do.  

Yep, my cup runneth over, and I am just plain thankful. 

The Number 26

It strikes me now, reflecting back, how routine, simple moments can have lasting impact if you live life with your eyes wide open. A few weeks ago, out on a simple lunchtime errand, I took a drive to my neighborhood drug store. As I was traveling down a busy road, cars flying by me in a panic to get to and from lunch destinations, I turned on my left blinker to enter the drug store parking lot- and there I saw him. He wasn’t famous. He wasn’t an old friend. He wasn’t someone I even knew. But, I saw him nonetheless. He stood on the corner under the traffic light, rain pouring down on his back, a sign clenched between his soaked hands and dripping wet with these words scribbled in permanent marker- “homeless, please help.” As I watched this man walk back and forth in the storm, anxiously looking into the eyes of passersby, it was as if I could feel his dignity vanishing with each step. Water splashing up on the curb, lightning flashing in the distance, nothing seemed to faze him; he was robotic. Despite my fixation on him, something else caught my attention in those moments. I began counting all of the cars that passed him by. One by one they flew, not even taking a second glance. Most of them were preoccupied on their cell phones, distracted by the rain, or realistically just looking for a reason not to notice the man. I could only count the cars that came at me, the ones I was facing from my intersection, but in a matter of seconds I counted twenty-six cars. If I were able to count the ones going the other direction, I’m certain that number would have more than doubled. Twenty-six, I was completely paralyzed with that number. Realistically, thousands of cars pass him by in a single afternoon and statistically, maybe a few gave him any assistance and probably even less took the liberty to smile or say hello.

Instead of focusing on the contempt and sadness I felt at how easy it is for us to neglect the people we see in need, I focused instead on him. What it must feel like to stand wet and cold in the rain, waiting and hoping to earn what little money you can. How with every car that passes by, every nervous glance of pedestrians and drivers, it must crush your resolve and deplete your strength. I wondered what it was like to be hungry, really and truly hungry, and be uncertain of when that feeling would come to an end. More than the physical needs, I wondered what it must be like to wish that people would look at you, actually just look at you. Even more so, how it must ache to long for a conversation, which must be painful to realize comes rarely, and even then typically comes wrapped in expectation- because often people don’t know how to communicate, much less love, without expectation of a certain reciprocation. A horn blew behind me and with a startled jump I eased my car into the drug store parking lot, leaving behind the man who had me captured. My heart ached for him.

What was I to do with this moment I was given? I look at everything as an opportunity to learn, an opportunity to grow and be more like Christ. So, what was it God? What I know is the man I saw that day is Gods son and he matters as much to God as me or anyone else. And despite our prideful ability to measure need out of our own limited mind, it is just as important to make sure my new friend on the corner has food, has assistance, in the same way I make sure I do. My friend has the same reason to expect human connection and love the way I do. The only difference between him and I is that he has grown accustomed to being ignored. And what I learned that day is… It’s not ok to expect to be ignored. No fancy words, no vicious rhetoric, it’s just not ok.

Stall Tactics

Upon viewing one of my dear friend Laura and her families' blog (for updates, encouragement and never-ending entertainment, go to http://littlehoffman.blogspot.com/) I found myself both chuckling and also momentarily pondering the phrase they used for their daughters adorable attempts at avoiding bedtime; "stall tactics." In her case, sweet Meron, being of the two-aged range, uses her irresistible charm and genetically God-given dimples to dissuade mommy and daddy from the evil perils of bedtime! While I smiled and laughed heartily watching the video and at this precious child of God, I couldn't help but wonder if God smiles at us the same way.  I couldn't help but wonder if, when we use our own child-like tactics of stalling our "Daddy" in His efforts of expressing parental rights- giving clear directions and discipline, if He giggles at us too-or if He is displeased.
Granted, in my case, bedtime isn't something you normally have to fight me to get to, most likely I will beat you there every time. But, in the rat race that life can sometimes be, I use stall tactics to avoid the parental direction given by my Father, by God. Especially if it means I have to get out of the comfort seat and jump in a sports car going 95 miles an hour, whipping around a windy mountainous curve. Despite the fact that I much prefer the speed of life which thrusts heavy wind against your cheeks and leaves your hair tousled in knots, I sometimes equally have the guarded mentality of wearing my self-made safety belt for the ride.
What is it about Divine direction that causes us to employ stall tactics instead of obedience? What is it about the unknown, the uncertain, the unseen, that forces us into a pit of fear and retraction instead of full blown excitement and joy that God has given clarity to the once clouded? I ask myself that question as I sometimes feel like a little girl with pig-tails. Void of dimples, I use my sheepish giggle and sometimes swiftly bat my eyelashes to falsely charm my Father into letting me slide just one more day- or so I like to think. As if the Creator and Master of all can be charmed..
I doubt highly that He is charmed by my stalling, but I do know that He loves me, undeniably I feel it.
I feel it in the slip of a tiny orphaned hand pressing into mine. In the tears of a hungry child cuddled into my arms; starved physically, but also emotionally in his desire to be held just five more minutes. I feel it in the encouragement from twenty-nine incredible team members who walk this journey of life with me,  vowing to sacrifice whatever necessary for one more child to know Christ, and to have a hope and a future. I marvel at His love in the creation and feel it in the pink sunrise over the African mountains or a majestic sunset over the source of the Nile. I feel His love everywhere.
Call it stalling, but God wastes nothing on me. He teaches. He guides. He disciplines. He is showing me the beauty in simplicity and the awe in things that this world can not provide. He shows me in visions of splendor on this earth, things which no white picket fence, or Hollywood created American dream-life can offer, and I am being transformed from the inside out. I am learning that He uses even our tantrums, even or fits, undeniably our "stall tactics" to show us what is really important in this life here on earth. And I am humbly and eternally grateful.
It's bedtime and I'm headed to the Bible for a quick bedtime story with my Papa. I'm banking on using my stall tactics in staying awake while I read and He speaks. I have an inkling, like sweet Meron probably does when her dad reads her a bedtime story, I'll be saying- just "one more Daddy".....

Who am I?

There are moments in ones life that are especially monumental. Moments where you can't quite put your finger on it, but you know that everything has changed, will change, or it is about to be flipped completely and utterly upside down. These times are often preceded by a lot of grumbling and praying, asking God "what are you waiting on?" Ironically, you find yourself questioning God without a clue of what you think He is waiting on in the first place. It's more of a self-focused, restless, I am ready but don't know what I am ready for type of grumbling. Then, life takes a swift twist and you find yourself smack dab in the middle of a major torrential downpour of God saying, "OK, here it is, here is what you have been wrestling me for, now go do it." All of the sudden, like a child having his favorite security blanket ripped out of his hands and taken to the trash bin, you find yourself kicking, screaming, and groaning saying "God, you can't possibly be talking to me? No way. Uh huh. Who am I?" Monumental moment, yes, because it changes everything, literally, but instead of leaping with joy you find yourself in a different position, one of bowed knee and face planted in the carpet seeking strength to even process what has been laid before you. Much less having the courage to get up and actually go do it.
Inadequacy. This is the only word I can conjure up for the feelings that arise within, when God calls you to do something completely out of the realm of your comfort zone. Instead of focusing on the truths you have told others thousands of times, truths such as "He will provide for what He calls you to do." You begin to focus completely on the lies you hear from the other side "Who are you to do this? You can't. That's crazy." And in all honesty, those aren't just coming from expected origins, but also from those around you. Not necessarily in words but in actions, expressions, easily read in body language or the absence of words where there is clearly need for them.
Be honest with yourself, you hear it even without others, "Who are YOU?" "Look in the mirror, what do you see? You can't do this and nobody will expect you to." If you are anything like me, nothing keeps you paralyzed more than the fight between the feeling of inadequacy and the all out war you want to rage on overcoming that same paralysis; I am a fighter. I believe in great triumph and overcoming obstacles. Stories of seeing people push themselves beyond all human boundaries and defeat all odds, absolutely motivates and inspires me. I always go for the underdog. I believe in change and I believe unequivocally it starts from within. But, in all honesty, monumental moments are both exhilarating and completely terrifying all in the same.
The natural tendency would be to seek the affirmation of those around you, believing that a positive word might spur on an extra dose of adrenaline needed to defeat the internal sense of inadequacy. The difference there is in our expectation vs. reality; not everyone will respond how you think or even hope they might. Instead, it usually yields more doubt, more fear and yet even still, more inadequacy.
Searching for some encouragement from God, I stumbled upon Exodus chapter four. Moses is stammering. He confesses his own lack of eloquence and imperfection. Frankly, he's scared. Sound familiar? How does God respond? The LORD said to him, "Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the LORD ? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say." (Exodus 4:11-12) Again, like many of us, instead of being encouraged by a word from GOD HIMSELF, Moses continues groaning. He fumbles for words and responds just as many of us do, by asking God to send someone else (Exodus 4:13).
Who am I. From the beginning of time, it is evident that many have asked that same question when in essence, none have been great. From an orphan turned queen (Esther), to a mass murderer turned most passionate and avid writer in all of the New Testament (Paul), there are none that have been selected because of their nobility and valor. God chooses the lowest of the low. The weak. The questionable.

We can keep doubting, pouting, kicking and screaming, or we can obediently and faithfully jump. The best thing that can happen is that you fail. The worst thing that can happen is missing out on the invigorating experience of being on the path you know God specifically has laid out for you. Personally, I'd rather go for the latter.

This is Africa

Imagine with me if you can, the most disgusting, vile and inhuman place on earth you, your children or any children for that matter could conceivably live. Picture the surroundings. Smell the stench. Hear the sounds. Take it all in. Now throw it out, because whatever you have pictured doesn't come close, can't give true justice to the dump; a place countless children inhabit in East Africa.

My mind races as I anxiously ponder the right words to help paint this picture clearly. As I recall the stench of rotten trash, the aroma of human excrement wavering in the muggy air, starved dogs aimlessly wandering the mud soaked land, all encompassing a community of orphans and some of the most impoverished people I've ever encountered in my time here on this earth, tears stream down my face. I close my eyes and I can see the children walking barefoot, covered in mud, in urine, snot caked under their nostrils, digging through trash to find any possible remnants of food. I see their hands reach out to be held. I close my eyes and I can see the desperation in their charcoal eyes, the bones protruding under their hole-filled clothes. My mind flashes back to the lunch my team shoveled quickly on our bus. Peering out the window watching curious faces stare longingly at the rice we gulp down, my heart is ripped open. I rush back to help feed the children only to return back to the street five minutes later in shock; a three year old street orphan shoving rice in his mouth, rice he got from the trash we had just thrown out five minutes earlier. For the rest of my life I will never forget that picture. I will never forget his little hands, the speed at which he shoved the rice in his mouth, how he almost choked on his tiny hand because he couldn't get it in fast enough.
I feel the lumps in my own back as I imagine sleeping atop trash, I feel the ache as I picture tears streaming down the face of a child who longs to see his mom and dad again; hating AIDS and the destruction it causes. Just when you think your heart can't take more, you hear stories of rape among young girls; imagining life for the child that grows within her belly, conceived during the most evil of acts. Just when you feel relief coming, you trample over piles of human excrement, realizing you have just stumbled on the public bathroom..
After you take that in..then you travel through the community doing home visits to families. As you push through the garbage, trample through the mud and pouring rain, ask permission to enter the home, more horror awaits you. I shudder at what else could have been seen were electricity even an option. Flies swarm, dirt and grime cover every surface, babies huddle in a corner in oversized torn shirts; I listen while a mother describes her life through tear soaked eyes. Focused not on the tiny mud-built shack that houses countless people, I turn to the mother. As water spills out of her eyes she re-lives the death of her husband only a week prior. Eighteen years of marriage, only 38 years old, life at a screeching halt before it had even began. He was the only source of income and his only source of income consisted of sifting through the dump to find scraps, hoping to sell what he could to provide enough food to sustain his family one more day. As she continues to wail, frightened at what the future holds for her and her family, tears begin falling from our eyes. For twelve dollars a month, her rent is paid, can you fathom that? Every house we entered, every hand we held tight, every child we scooped up into our arms, was another example of Gods clear calling in James 1:27. "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."

Survival is an art here; it's a skill that has been learned not by choice but by force. This is a community that not even it's neighbors will go near. They are outcasts, forced out of the eye of people within distance to yield at least some minimal relief. It captured my heart. It stole my affections. It's a dump, but God is the God of this city. He has a plan and purpose for these people and I intend to do whatever I can, inspire others to do whatever they can to move boldly to help. Once you have seen, you are responsible. We have seen. But now you have heard.

This is Eastern Africa...

More to come soon...