There are times to rest in the Holy Spirit. Times of listening and Jesus's divine intervention. Where we stop to the world and stop to soak in God's love. We use up our energy and our own love like water from a plastic water bottle. And others use us up like a vending machine, just keep taking out, and it takes us a while to be replenished. So we pause to feel the radical presence of the God who sees our suffering and fills us up to the very top until we overflow. There are times of floating across his presence and basking in His love. The time where we are empty and need to be refilled. Where we adore our amazing savior.
Then there are times of complete desperation. Times where we cannot wait. God does not always call us to wait on him. He actually demands we seek Him to be able to seek others. It would be so comfortable to wait on God all of our days. But we have not been called to a life of comfort but a life of demanded discomfort, rebellion, and answering the call. There is the term of "pressing in" to the Spirit, but pressing in gets me only so far. It's like pressing down on a nail that you are trying to compact into a board. It's like pressing that button that is stuck and doesn't want to budge. I declare a life of punching into the Spirit. Because it demands that God would meet me and I would seek His will for my life. It shows there is no time for waiting. It shows I am desperate to be sent out into the world and to be a vessel. When I am waiting, there are others dying. There are children hungry, girls being robbed of their innocence, and a grandmother wishing to feed all of her starving grandchildren. There are familiar faces that are being ignored as if they were not familiar. There is a people wanting to be met by a divine intervention but do not know how to be met.
I cannot be hasty and yet I am waiting for the perfect moment handed down for God to reveal His glory. For God to move in the nation I so desire to reach. For God to grab hold of the hearts so dear to me. For God to open the eyes of the people I am practically begging open. I am already knee deep in their lives and I am waiting on the God who gave me full potential and authority. There are times for me to stop the rushing movement of my life and give all control to God. And once that task is accomplished, it is time to punch in.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
I Have A Confession
Well, two. One is I may confess things more than once. Because I'm not going to let these confessions take a hold of me anymore.
The second is I do not fit.
Or at least I don't feel like I do. I feel like I'm being jammed into a puzzle at that spot that I just don't fit at. Or a square being shoved in a round hole. While other people spend their days searching for that one thing that will make their lives satisfactory, I would rather be putting together puzzles or shoving the the squares and circles in the holes. I've had plenty of moments to myself and they have helped me grow extremely dependent of God. Just me and kids. Kids make me happy. I don't think any other living person besides a child could make me more happy at the moment. Sometimes I wish I had a good group of friends to express myself with. But there aren't many people like me. Maybe I am preparing myself to leave. I have only a couple of months before life on my own starts. And then who knows where I will be taken. Which is also a really scary thought.
The second is I do not fit.
Or at least I don't feel like I do. I feel like I'm being jammed into a puzzle at that spot that I just don't fit at. Or a square being shoved in a round hole. While other people spend their days searching for that one thing that will make their lives satisfactory, I would rather be putting together puzzles or shoving the the squares and circles in the holes. I've had plenty of moments to myself and they have helped me grow extremely dependent of God. Just me and kids. Kids make me happy. I don't think any other living person besides a child could make me more happy at the moment. Sometimes I wish I had a good group of friends to express myself with. But there aren't many people like me. Maybe I am preparing myself to leave. I have only a couple of months before life on my own starts. And then who knows where I will be taken. Which is also a really scary thought.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
In The Eyes of A Child
Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of you heart will also be- Matthew 6:21
I've overlooked this verse so many times. I looked at it for years thinking it only meant my treasure stored in heaven. But it means the desires of my heart are the same place my treasures are. And my treasure is serving people. My treasure is raising children in church and watching them grow into young leaders ready to take on the world and fall in love with their savior. My treasure is knowing that a child can go from completely angered to a sweet and loving human being through faith and love. My treasure is love and care for children who don't know what it means to be hugged and squeezed, tickled until the can't breathe, kissed millions of times, or held in loving arms. My treasure is taking in every wise word from an innocent child.
This is my treasure because five years ago I had absolutely no love for children. My heart was not open and hard toward children. I would say that I never wanted to have kids and I would find something better to do with my life. I saw them as a waste of energy and time. They were ignorant and needy. I would not go near a child. But God wasn't going to have that. He literally shoved me through the door of taking the opportunity to take on the job of working in childcare.
Now I don't see myself doing anything else than working with children. Being a mother to the motherless, giving orphans a family, loving all of them until they feel they will burst. Watching them bloom from tiny buds that could do nothing except stay pinched up in the sun's protection into radiant flowers that spread their arms to greet the world with a colorful expression no one can deny. Opening their arms to Jesus and letting Him fill their lives.
This would not be a treasure if I didn't find each child valuable. Children are the future; they're the ones who fill in our spaces that we missed and do even greater things than these. They are each unique and have different smiles and talents to brighten your day and feed their nation. My love for these children is abounding and stretches across my heart. They have taught me the true meaning of joy and love. I believe for these kids. No one else is believing for them. We believe for ourselves and our generation. But the next is so much more important because they're learning from us. A child longs to learn.
This would not be my treasure if God wouldn't have cracked open my heart and turned my eyes to the eyes of a child. It's my heart's desires meet my treasure. In the eyes of a child.
I've overlooked this verse so many times. I looked at it for years thinking it only meant my treasure stored in heaven. But it means the desires of my heart are the same place my treasures are. And my treasure is serving people. My treasure is raising children in church and watching them grow into young leaders ready to take on the world and fall in love with their savior. My treasure is knowing that a child can go from completely angered to a sweet and loving human being through faith and love. My treasure is love and care for children who don't know what it means to be hugged and squeezed, tickled until the can't breathe, kissed millions of times, or held in loving arms. My treasure is taking in every wise word from an innocent child.
This is my treasure because five years ago I had absolutely no love for children. My heart was not open and hard toward children. I would say that I never wanted to have kids and I would find something better to do with my life. I saw them as a waste of energy and time. They were ignorant and needy. I would not go near a child. But God wasn't going to have that. He literally shoved me through the door of taking the opportunity to take on the job of working in childcare.
Now I don't see myself doing anything else than working with children. Being a mother to the motherless, giving orphans a family, loving all of them until they feel they will burst. Watching them bloom from tiny buds that could do nothing except stay pinched up in the sun's protection into radiant flowers that spread their arms to greet the world with a colorful expression no one can deny. Opening their arms to Jesus and letting Him fill their lives.
This would not be a treasure if I didn't find each child valuable. Children are the future; they're the ones who fill in our spaces that we missed and do even greater things than these. They are each unique and have different smiles and talents to brighten your day and feed their nation. My love for these children is abounding and stretches across my heart. They have taught me the true meaning of joy and love. I believe for these kids. No one else is believing for them. We believe for ourselves and our generation. But the next is so much more important because they're learning from us. A child longs to learn.
This would not be my treasure if God wouldn't have cracked open my heart and turned my eyes to the eyes of a child. It's my heart's desires meet my treasure. In the eyes of a child.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Waving in the Wind
Sometimes I forget how beautiful you are. I seem to lose sight of the hands that hold me up and think I'm floating in thin air and will eventually stumble back. I see more cold mornings than the afternoon suns. I fall into this occurring nonsense scheduled to make me feel secure and that my life is leading to something. I become a wind-up toy and my key will rust. Sometimes I forget how I am beautiful to you.
But your people with warm smiles and hands waving joy in the sun kissed air, how can I forget them? Waving at me, waiting for me to come see them. Waiting for a single person to lift them high in the sky so they feel like a bird soaring for the first time. Little songbirds always singing with their note that they were written for. Because when I see them half broken and bandaged, torn from wounds, and still waving the wind, how should I help but see beauty? The darkness welcomes them and instead they allow light to caress their faces, smoothing their smiles to perfect shape. Hearts full of laughter and gladness that they are alive. Sifting through catastrophes and problems and finding the gold pieces of truth. If these people are more than overwhelmingly glorious to me, then I can be the same in your eyes. You are beautiful, and I see your glory. I want to touch it, be able to feel the face of love. The coarse-skinned nation you've created.
But your people with warm smiles and hands waving joy in the sun kissed air, how can I forget them? Waving at me, waiting for me to come see them. Waiting for a single person to lift them high in the sky so they feel like a bird soaring for the first time. Little songbirds always singing with their note that they were written for. Because when I see them half broken and bandaged, torn from wounds, and still waving the wind, how should I help but see beauty? The darkness welcomes them and instead they allow light to caress their faces, smoothing their smiles to perfect shape. Hearts full of laughter and gladness that they are alive. Sifting through catastrophes and problems and finding the gold pieces of truth. If these people are more than overwhelmingly glorious to me, then I can be the same in your eyes. You are beautiful, and I see your glory. I want to touch it, be able to feel the face of love. The coarse-skinned nation you've created.
Monday, March 12, 2012
This is Africa
I don't know if you have one thing that you think about every single day. I don't know if it's someone who left or someone who is right beside you. I don't know if it's about something extraordinary or something tragic. I don't know if you love that thought or hate it. But I absolutely love mine, no I am in love with mine. And I've never even met it, never approached it, never even been so close as to touch its surroundings. It's not close by, it's thousands of miles away from my desperate reach. It's extraordinary and quite tragic at the same time. I don't think of just one person I think of a people. My one thought is not a single being but a massive whole. Countries. A continent. A nation. My one thought is Africa.
I cannot ever explain why this place seemed to land itself into my passionate soul. I don't know why I am so moved by any mention of Africa. My only explanation is that God must want me to have something to do with this nation. My one and only passion before this was writing and I would flow freely in and out of my unstable ingenuity that my mind yearned to be in. But now each time I write, I cannot stand when the nation is left out of whatever I create. Africa will not leave me alone, but this is the way I like it.
My desperation is calling for justice to this world, but for an even greater sub-calling: I want this continent to experience love. We experience love each day when our family tells us they are proud, when someone holds a door open, when we hug our children, when we feed off of the attention provided for daily, when we sing songs of it. These people are sometimes brought up without one hint of the word love. Love has never been squeezed into their bones or muttered to them in times of starvation or disease. Love has never walked past through villages or swept over their skies. Love has been stored away here and is abundantly being thrown around its boundaries. Love is dying to wrap its arms around a child who has never been showed love. Love wants to heal the sick and feed the hungry. Love wants to home the homeless. Love wants to hear its name sung in tribal hymns and praises. Love wants to see its progress shining on the smiles of this people's face. Love wants to spread. Love wants to break free.
I cannot ever explain why this place seemed to land itself into my passionate soul. I don't know why I am so moved by any mention of Africa. My only explanation is that God must want me to have something to do with this nation. My one and only passion before this was writing and I would flow freely in and out of my unstable ingenuity that my mind yearned to be in. But now each time I write, I cannot stand when the nation is left out of whatever I create. Africa will not leave me alone, but this is the way I like it.
My desperation is calling for justice to this world, but for an even greater sub-calling: I want this continent to experience love. We experience love each day when our family tells us they are proud, when someone holds a door open, when we hug our children, when we feed off of the attention provided for daily, when we sing songs of it. These people are sometimes brought up without one hint of the word love. Love has never been squeezed into their bones or muttered to them in times of starvation or disease. Love has never walked past through villages or swept over their skies. Love has been stored away here and is abundantly being thrown around its boundaries. Love is dying to wrap its arms around a child who has never been showed love. Love wants to heal the sick and feed the hungry. Love wants to home the homeless. Love wants to hear its name sung in tribal hymns and praises. Love wants to see its progress shining on the smiles of this people's face. Love wants to spread. Love wants to break free.
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