The Passion…

I attended The Justice Conference this past weekend and to say that it rocked my world, may be a little bit of an understatement. I’m still reeling and hope to sift through the wealth of goodness taken from it and share my heart, but will start with the most poignant message spoken by Francis Chan at the end that I feel encapsulates the entire conference:

Do not let ANYBODY or ANYTHING talk you out of the passion that is within you.

How often have you communicated a fire that is within only to have it snuffed out by well-meaning friends and family who don’t know much about the seed that God planted there?  How often is the fire extinguished because resources don’t look adequate or circumstance seem contrary to the vision and the fire fades taking hope with it because it just doesn’t seem possible to our eyes of very little understanding? Or because the need becomes so large and so overwhelming that it just doesn’t seem possible that you, one singular person can do anything about it. Or because you just don’t feel smart enough or skilled enough or educated enough to do something that important?

These seeds of fire planted within are the very power of God…entrusted to us to be unleashed according to His perfect will. I danced and hopped and skipped and all but cartwheeled out of the conference because of the fire that has been renewed within me (Apostolic Passion). I noticed at this conference how ALIVE so many others are who have let the seeds God’s planted ignite within their souls. It’s contagious! And I want to be afflicted!  I realized and verbalized to a friend how self-conscious my excitement made me, but was encouraged…”No, you should not be self-conscious! It’s awesome!”

As the days pass since the conference, I have prayed for focus and direction and it occurred to me today that I’ve already been given the vision. It is accompanied every time by the fire that ignites my soul whenever I’m in its presence. And it occurs to me that I’ve asked for direction all this time…but because it was snuffed out for various reasons, I didn’t believe it was a true vision for me.

In this moment, I contemplate the vision for the first time as truth and it is equally as exciting as it is terrifying. Doubt and wonder and questions and the ‘How’ seep in and I contemplate the circumstance that has everything a moving target. It could easily get stifled again, but He whispers, “Keep your focus on me and I’ll show you the way. Allow me to handle the details. And…do not let anybody or anything talk you out of the passion that I have planted within you.”

And so I will cling today to this passion to GO…and I will not be afraid and I will not be dismayed and I will not be deterred. I will not listen to any voice but the one whose planted the seed; the One who is faithful with His promises.

I wonder about you? Do you have a passion you feel you’ve never been able to exercise? Approach? Entertain? Is something keeping you from GOING there?

For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline.  Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony of our Lord…but join with me in suffering for the gospel according to the power of God, who has saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace which was granted us in Christ Jesus from all eternity… 2 Timothy 1:7-9

For indeed He was crucified because of weakness, yet He lives because of the power of God. For we also are weak in Him, yet we will live with Him because of the power of God directed toward you. 2 Cor 13:4

I Feel Small

It’s 30 degrees outside. I’m situated warmly inside, looking outside the window, through the pane, to the streets outside. Transient traffic, bundled up tight, having slept on the sidewalk, welcoming the new day with pursuit of warmth for their bodies and tummies.

They glance in as they pass by, and I just watch, wondering if they’re able to see in. Are the windows tinted? I’m glad I’m inside. I don’t like the cold much. Would prefer some place tropical. The winters are long and dreary here.

A little earlier, I spied a food box left on the sidewalk; litter. There was some vittles leftover in the box. I wondered who would pick it up and throw it in the garbage.

I just watch, and wonder.

Then he comes; a man to pick up the garbage. Only…he doesn’t pick it up because it is littering the sidewalk. He picks it up because he’s hungry. He starts eating what is left.

I have no idea how long it has been out there, but my insides are suddenly turned out at the thought. Oh my gosh, he’s eating the garbage! A thousand thoughts suddenly overwhelm my head. What was in the box? How long was it out there? Is it safe? Contaminated? Infested with bacteria? How long has it been since he’s last eaten?! When will he eat again? What if he gets sick?

The man was not looking around to see who was looking at him. He’s been doing this awhile. He’ll get his vittles wherever he can, even if it’s others’ leftovers; on the street.

I couldn’t stop staring at him. I was in the middle of a gathering inside the walls, where it is warm. It would be too disruptive to leave. What could I do, anyway? I didn’t have any lunch bags or anything to offer him. I couldn’t really do anything. So I stared, and tried to sort through the barrage of words and thoughts flying through my head.

I suddenly noticed the multitudes of others swarming all over the streets, equally without shelter and/or food. And I feel very small.

I’m grateful for all that I have; and ashamed at the trivialities I allow to burrow in because I somehow feel entitled to something better than what I’ve got. I’ve never had to eat garbage off the sidewalk because there’s no other means of sustainance. I’ve never had to set up a bed on the sidewalk when it is 30 degrees outside. I’ve the luxury of bathing every day; multiple times a day if I choose.

I beg for relief from personal discomfort while others beg for relief from starvation and freezing. And now I beg for forgiveness of my selfishness. Because I am warm, and well fed. And I’ve not a need for anything.

And so I will from my abundance today, not just contemplate the lesser fortune of others, but step out of my warm personal comfort zone and provide a warm meal in the form of soup and hot chocolate. It’s not a lot, but its one meal they won’t have to find scraped up off the sidewalk.

Write Down the Vision

Last week, I was talking to someone about this missional heart of mine; this compulsion to ‘GO’.  He encouraged me to write down the vision. I hadn’t ever thought about writing down the vision until now. While I was driving the other day, lost in my own reverie, I wondered what the vision really is; because there are a lot of visions that I have and see. And I’ve often wondered how they all fit together, as some contradict and appear mutually exclusive, and where they will send me or when or how. 

For a while I’ve wondered if I’ve lost the vision(s), because the intense burning has dissipated somewhat into a dull presence with an occassional warming. I wonder when my next trip will be or what it is that God has for me next, and why do I have these visions if I’m not able to entertain or exercise them.

As I was driving, though, it occurred to me that ‘next’ is ‘NOW’…and all the visions I see are all one heart, one need, one vision; not multiple. And the time is now. Not tomorrow or later or next year or when I get married or when my daughter is a certain age or when my life is somehow ‘in order’; not when I have a certain amount of money or a big enough house or yard or space to entertain. ‘Now’ does not mean a missionary ‘trip’, it means a missional lifestyle.

Cambodia. Africa. Remember Nhu. The homeless. The fatherless. The widows/single mothers. The poor, destitute and poverty stricken. The exploited and victimized. The orphans. The abandoned. The abused. The hurting.

The vision becomes overwhelming, but Jesus did not walk the earth in ministry taking or planning one trip at a time helping a focused and select group of people. He walked out His ministry one day at a time. And in each day and each moment, He met the need that was presented to Him as He walked and travelled.

With this new perspective, the original ‘vision’ that I would one day be sent to become a full time missionary…initially interpreted as being sent overseas…made the vision too small. It implied passively waiting until that time came and the vision somehow manifest. But now…’sent’ can mean…down the street, to the next town, to the neighbor’s house. Sent from the comfort of my own space into that of another to meet whatever need is presented.

I prayed some time ago for the Lord to show me the things that break His heart, so that I might know better how to serve, and He has been faithful to that prayer. When I unwrap His heart from the box of my own understanding I’d placed around it, with the perception that there’s one individual and singular journey and direction intended for those of us who follow Jesus, I’m suddenly more aware of everything Jesus did; and subsequently everything I am to do. I have a missional heart because I carry the missional heart of Jesus within. He didn’t just have His sights set on a singular location or group of people on the other side of the globe. He had his sights set on every single hurting human on the planet; here; there; everywhere.

And now, as I walk through my days, whether at work or home or in the grocery store or in traffic or wherever my heart happens to be at any given moment, I see through a new lens…one that sees broken hearts and broken people; here, there, and everywhere.  And I will follow the Lord’s lead and have compassion where it is needed and sought for. I’ll not know what it is going to look like…I’ve no idea what I’ll be called to do…but I will follow. And from my own poverty of spirit, will serve. And I’m okay now with the discomfort of not knowing when the ‘next trip’ will be. It could happen any minute.

Every Moment Matters

It’s hard to believe it’s been almost a year since I went to Rwanda. Over a year and a half since Ethiopia. Where does the time go? As I watch this video, it all comes back, as if it was yesterday. It’s easy to get lost in the day to day and lose sight of the kids and the faces and all that was done, but it never erases the call placed in my heart to ‘Go’; to ‘Be’ the hands and feet for Jesus.

It seems so trivial sometimes; insignificant almost when standing on the soil of a destitute and impoverished land overflowing with orphans. What can a week or two really do? But when I reflect back on my life, it is but the glimpses and moments that bring so much life, to life. It only takes a moment to plant a seed. A moment of complete unconditional love poured out blooms a harvest unimaginable.

As a child in school, I planted a tree as part of Biology class. I haven’t seen that tree for 25 years, but I’m confident it is still growing. So it is for those of us called to ‘Go’, to plant seeds. He carries us there, He allows us to plant, He nurtures and nourishes the soil in which it was planted, and we follow Him to the next destination. Sometimes He allows us to see the fruit of that planting; sometimes He doesn’t. It doesn’t mean one is any more significant than another. His glory pours through and out of us, who are willing vessels for His purpose. One day we’ll see it all and understand it all and come face to face with all those He allowed us to touch.

What an incredible day that will be. :)

Every Moment Matters from Videos for AGCI on Vimeo.

Haste…to Obedience

I’ve taken a sabbatical from my other blog to find focus, direction and clarity and to begin fund raising campaigns for the next leg(s) of my journey. Two trips to Cambodia, the first in October to Thailand/Cambodia and the other in January to Cambodia alone. My heart knows what it knows, but my sense sometimes leaps in haste.

Did she say, “…Cambodia in October?”

Or did she say, “…Cambodia.”

Did I inadvertently interject the ‘in October’ piece to accommodate the excitable part that bounces around like a little puppy (that sometimes tinkles on the floor)? The part of me that is tempted to disregard all reason and regard for the Lord’s timing… The part of me that just wants to ‘GO’…

As time drew nearer the official planning phase for both trips, reservations began to creep in and I questioned whether I’d heard properly. The more I thought about fund raising the heavier the burden became. Ugh. Maybe I’m not supposed to go on these trips…

I prayed, received some confirmation from a trusted pastor and felt released to withdraw from both trips.

The part that desires so fervently to launch myself into His plans knows…In my heart I may plan the course, but it is the LORD that determines the steps. Prov 16:9

I’m a little bit disappointed, but…my Hope is in Him and I know, There is no wisdom, no insight, no plan that can succeed against the LORD. Prov 21:30

I am confident of this, that he who began a good work … will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Phil 1:6

And if there be a lesson in here, it is not to be moved by emotion alone; and if I must find reason for haste, that it be haste in obedience to Him.

 

Next Stop…

I didn’t think I’d  go on a trip this year. The perpetual busy of life with various changes hither and yon…but God’s no respecter of our schedules and changes; He creates His own. :)

When I returned from Rwanda in October last year, I felt the tug to attend another church. I’ve actually felt that tug for quite some time, but once I returned from Rwanda, it pretty much pushed me there. No more tugs…just a hefty shove. So I followed it not really sure why I needed to go to another church.

Just a few weeks in to the new church there was a flyer in the bulletin for classes being offered and one of them leapt off the page at me, kinda like books leap off the bookshelf at me when I go to the bookstore.

Perspectives…on the World Christian Movement.

I didn’t know what it was about, but felt like I had to take it; so I did.

Perspectives is a 15 week course on the call God’s placed on all who believe to ‘Go, and make disciples of all nations.’  It’s about God’s mission and the mission He has for each of us. This class rocked the world of my little missionary heart. I’ll speak more to what was revealed to me during the class, but in short, so very much was made clear to me of all the confusion of my compulsions to just ‘GO’.

While I was in class the flame in my heart to Go was ignited and inflamed every week. And I prayed and prayed about where He was going to send me. When the door to my heart was first opened about missions it was in response to a flyer in our church bulletin to Cambodia. I thought I was supposed to go then, but it turned out not to be so. I’ve wondered all along if it was Cambodia that was calling me or if it was just the call to missions from that flyer. And during class I kept getting this impression that I would know more at the end of class. The new church I was attending had a flyer with their yearly missions trips and there were 19 total for the year. I’d look at the list and wonder and pray whether I’m supposed to go on one of them.

True to His whispering, towards the very end of the class we had a speaker talk to us about our next steps. We all prayed about what it is that God would have for us next. I didn’t hear anything at first. I thought that meant that I was just supposed to be still and wait. And I was okay with waiting, even though the flame burned more than ever.

The following Sunday after that class, another gal from class approached me after church as I was talking to someone and said that God had placed a burden on her heart for me and to pray for me…and that she thinks I’m supposed to go to Cambodia in October.

A hand delivered message from God.

I stood there, with mouth agape…I think a little in shock, maybe. Wow. Really. Wow. Cambodia? Really? I stuttered and stammer over my words as we closed up the rest of our brief conversation and after she left I wondered if I’d had a conversation with her or she’d ever overheard me talk about Cambodia. During our next class I asked her and…nope. We’ve never talked about it. We did talk about being in Africa during missions trips that kissed up to each other and we shared the same awesome photographer…but no mention of Cambodia.

Hm. It took me a little time to digest. Really? Cambodia. Hm.

I kept praying…waiting for another sign or clue.

On the last day of class, another gal approached me saying that God had placed me on her heart a few weeks before…because she felt called to fund whatever trips I was going on. A little more stuttering and a surge of excitement…He IS sending me on another trip!

And since then there’s been clues and probings and whispers to my spirit. I’ll share more as time goes on, but for now…I’m going to Cambodia! :) Not just once, but twice.

Stay tuned for more details.

Who am *I*

I was walking down the road from the Kaldis Coffee Shop after lunch to the Bethzatha Orphanage in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia this particular sunny afternoon, and the tension within me was almost unbearable. I tried to wear a smile, but am afraid it looked painted on. My insides hurt. My head hurt. My heart hurt. It takes me time to process things and from the moment I stepped foot from the airport upon arrival a few days prior, my senses were accosted and my body, mind and spirit responded in ways I was unfamiliar with. Because we were so busy, I struggled with finding any resolution or peace to what I was feeling. Every morning when I woke I asked myself,

‘WHAT…am I doing here?!’

Our walk from the hotel to Kaldi’s was rife with transient foot traffic; mama’s with filthy, naked babies holding out their hands begging for something, anything to help; crippled, diseased individuals on the sides of the road and sidewalks; men urinating wherever they felt the need; everyone staring at the “ferenghi” (Amharic for white people) because we stand out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of brown faces; exhaust from vehicle traffic was black and relentless – my lungs fought for oxygen until the clouds dissipated; trash was strewn everywhere; the roads were more like goat trails than highways. Everything is so clean and tidy in America. Even the dirt roads in America have some dignity about them. And then…then there’s the orphanage.

This particular orphanage cares for about 50 children. On this day, they were moving from one building location to another. We visited them the day before briefly and while things were being moved around, all the kids were in one room. The smell of dirty diapers and spit up and sickness hung in the room like a sour wet rag. My heart fought desperately not to break down. I didn’t know how to reach through and past the sensory overload to fully be present with the kids. I wanted to be free from the bludgeoning and just love on them.

We painted their new orphanage the day before, transforming it from white and flat to colorful and vibrant for the children to enjoy. This day we were going to paint the old orphanage in preparation for the owners to reclaim and provide for new tenants. I struggled all day with what good this painting will do for the condition of this place; both the building and this city/country. How miniscule a gesture, this painting. I was so overwhelmed.

The question loomed in my mind over and over again…’Who am *I*…Who am *I* that I can make any kind of a difference here? Is running a paintbrush and roller over these smelly, dirty walls going to make ANY difference? How in the world can it make a difference? I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.’

I followed the Lord’s lead there. I think I went with the expectations of my adventurous spirit that I’d be able to soak in the scenery of my surroundings and find the wonder and awe and amazement and maybe even some respite doing things independently of my daughter for a short time. I was a little anxious since this was my first independent international trip, first trip to Africa, first trip into the center of poverty, and first trip longer than three days away from my daughter… A lot of unknowns and things to contemplate and consider. I still went with an open mind and reserved, yet giddy anticipation.

Of course, my expectations were shattered immediately upon arrival as I didn’t realize I’d have to start processing my surroundings so abruptly or acutely.

It’s been over a year now since my trip, and I am still processing so much of what happened there. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop processing it. In this past year, though, I’m finding that my questions are being answered. First, about what this compelling/pulling is/was that took me there in the first place. There have been times I’ve felt a little bit crazy because I couldn’t quite answer the question about why I went. I just followed a compulsion I felt was from the Lord. It doesn’t seem very smart, particularly from a worldly perspective. And what did I do there…brought supplies to orphans and helped paint; just doesn’t seem worth the cost to get myself there, sometimes. As time passes, I realize this to be common for those called into missions; this unknowing. A great deal of missionaries don’t know where they will be sent or why, but God shows them along the way. It encourages a dependent and desperately clinging relationship to Him, because any move of our own volition could bring disastrous results. We can’t make assumptions about the why and how of His calling. He moves through us. He does the job for us; through us; in us. We’re just called to go.

I found clarity in two questions from that trip, this past week.

WHO AM *I*?

(That He would save or use a wretch like me)

–> I am an ambassador for the Kingdom of God. <–

Wherever He sends me, THERE, the Kingdom is.

Wow. Such a profound statement. It completely clears the burden of my capabilities or expectations from the picture. This trip was not about me. It never was. It never will be. I followed His lead. That’s all He wanted of me. And I was a part of a movement for Christ that I will not know or comprehend until He brings me Home. There were many other hands involved, as well. I was just a part of the plan. His Plan. Sometimes He shows us bits and pieces and parts of His plan and other times He doesn’t. He decides what is useful for us to know.

Another question I’ve had… I believe one day I’ll be sent to full time missions, but I don’t know where or when or how or why. I’ve been praying about it.

Where is He going to send me?

He planted the seed in my heart for missions and I’d really like to know, cuz…you know…inquiring minds just want to know! I like to make plans! But…it’s not about where I am called that is important, but to WHOM I am called. He may run me all over the globe! The ‘where’ is irrelevant to my ‘need’ or impatient want to know right now. I’m called to follow Him, and that means I’ll just follow wherever He leads me.

My giddiness and zealous excitability gets the best of me sometimes. I’m sure it sounds to some like I’d leap on the first outbound flight to Timbuktu in haste and disregard for reason. Sometimes I’d like to, but my desire to go does not exceed my desire to be in the center of His will. I’m going to wait until He decides it’s time for me to go.

In the mean time… I rest comfortably and confidently knowing that ‘Who I am’, is HIS. :) And I’m okay with wherever He has me today.

Did You Know?

I Will Follow

I’ve been grasping for quite some time (years) to understand this missionary heart that I carry. I just knew the yearnings and desires and PULL were there, but I couldn’t understand what it all meant! When I went on my two short term trips last year, I felt so much like Ready…Fire…AIM! I’m going, but don’t know what in the world I’m doing! Maybe it was about helping orphans? Maybe it was about spreading the good news? Maybe it was about simply seeing what breaks God’s heart? I just know I wanted to follow the heart of Jesus. So I went. I followed. And my heart and life have forever been ruined for the ordinary. 

I’ve come to realize that I’d rather take a completely directionless drive with Jesus to whatever corner of the planet He wants to take me, risks and all, than take a completely ordered and safe trip to anywhere else with all the details mapped out. Oh, I like me a good vacation and all, but when the vacation is over, its over. The relaxation doesn’t keep on giving. Its like a quick sugar high. Completely satisfying for a minute, but when the sugar drops, then its back to life as usual. Maybe a little frantic ’til the sugar levels back out. But trips with and for Jesus…the trip stops, but the heart and soul continue to expand and new and exciting revelations continue to spring up in reflection and as each day passes. And the risks? That’s where the Glory of the Lord shines.

I asked the Lord quite a long time ago to break my heart for what breaks His. He answers prayers. And I cannot sit still any longer. This life is no longer mine, but His for however He wills for me to expand this Kingdom of His.

I learned a new term the other day that’s wrapped itself around my heart and soul. Apostolic Passion.

Apostle means a sent one, or messenger. Passion means whatever a person is willing to suffer for. Apostolic passion then, means a deliberate, intentional choice to live for the worship of Jesus in the nations. It means being committed to the point of death to spreading of His Glory. It’s the quality of those who are on fire for Jesus, who dream of the whole earth being covered with the Glory of the Lord.

This passion within me scares people sometimes. Sometimes missionaries are martyred. I’m not afraid to die. And this scares people. I am afraid of leaving my daughter here, but the Lord and I have already discussed this. She is His. Do I not trust Him with her if something were to happen? We don’t talk about dying in our culture. Its a fact of life, but its a scary thing to consider. But when I die, I know where I’m going. And while I’m here, I know how I’m living and who I’m living for. I trust that I will not be martyred and that I will be sent with His covering and protection. And if I’m martyred, then its part of His plan. Whether here or there, He knows the plans He has for each and every one of us. He sent His son, to die…for us. Why would I not put my life on the line for Him? For His Glory? My life is not mine. He’ll take me home when He’s good and ready.

In the mean time, I’m anxious to be sent and to know where I’m going and with whom and what its going to look like. But He will reveal all of this in His timing. I know He’ll send me and I know He’s building and strengthening the foundation that He knows I need in order to do what He’s preparing to ask me to do. Until then, I shall present my gifts, vocations and talents to the Lord. I will press into God and stay there until He’s ready to send me. I will remain here and nurture the longings contained within this heart of mine to GO. But I won’t just sit still.

Having a missionary heart is not all about international missions (though that is where my heart is pointed). Missions is right where we are; where I am. The mission field is here. The mission field is my daughter; my neighbor; my neighborhood; my city; my state; my country. He will show me where to go and I will follow.

Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me….
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.

  

T’was Grace that taught…
my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear…
the hour I first believed.

  

Through many dangers, toils and snares…
we have already come.
T’was Grace that brought us safe thus far…
and Grace will lead us home.

  

The Lord has promised good to me…
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be…
as long as life endures.

  

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
and mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
a life of joy and peace.

  

When we’ve been here ten thousand years…
bright shining as the sun.
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise…
then when we’ve first begun.

  

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,    
That saved a wretch like me….
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.