The Almighty Dollar

I hate money.  I have always hated money.  I don't know if it stems from not having much of it as a kid or if it is a result of the dissension that comes about from it.  Perhaps the root of my hatred is that I'm extremely bad with it.  Not irresponsible in the traditional sense, in fact I won't spend money on myself unless someone twists my arm behind my back or gives me a gift card with an expiration date on it.  My ineptitude in dealing with money goes more to my unwillingness to bend on things I find important--things like giving to others or feeding my family healthy food or building relationships.  And I really struggle when I am asked to sacrifice these things. 

Herb and I have been struggling financially as of late, which I think is not much of a secret to anyone.  We decided when I was pregnant with Isabelle that we would give it a shot to live off of one income even though we knew full well that the numbers didn't add up.  You could call us irresponsible for that, but we chose to say we were living in faith that God would provide for what we believed He wanted me to do.  And God has provided abundantly!  I have now been paycheck-less for over a year and we have not gone hungry, lost the roof over our heads or lacked for clothing for warmth or air conditioning for cold.  We are blessed!  But we are living out of our savings in a way that will soon deplete the surplus we've been building for years now.  So I have been job hunting, trying to find something that will enable me to stay home with Isabelle and somehow work from home.  That's a tall order, especially with a little girl who would prefer love and attention to sleep or the accomplishment of any other tasks.  I keep looking and praying that if a job is what God wants for me He will provide a one and clearly show me that it was set aside by Him for me.  Additionally Herb and I have signed up for this Financial Peace University at church in hopes that they will somehow have a key to our financial problems that we've been unable to find ourselves.

But both of us are dreading this class for a few reasons.  For one, neither of us are extravagant spenders, so we're really unsure where they will try to reign us in.  And secondly, we are fearful that they will try to reign us in in places we really don't want to be pulled in on.  For example, I was talking with a friend the other day and she mentioned that their gas budget was really tight so she doesn't often go places with her little one.  Thinking about that made me want to cry.  As it is, I am incredibly lonely day in and day out, but I have found free events to keep us busy around town--story time at the library, music hour at the park--none of which are close.  If we're asked to create a budget that limits where I am able to go or what I am able to do, I really fear how I will handle it.  I'm also worried about having to cut my grocery bill.  Limiting ingredients is one thing, but I will have a hard time choosing to feed my child canned vegetables rather than fresh.  Scratch that, I don't know if I have the heart to make that decision at all!  But then I think, I'm able to feed my child period, shouldn't that be enough?  Am I ungrateful because I'm unwilling to budge on these types of things?  Am I discontent with the place God has brought me and really need to change my attitude?  I just don't know.

Herb and I have been resistant to budgets for a long time, in the sense that we try not to assign specific amounts to categories in our lives.  We live very frugally and believe strongly in listening to the Holy Spirit to guide our financial decisions.  If I feel led to work with the refugees, I trust that God will provide gas money for me to get clear across town (and He has consistently done so!)  If we feel it's important to share a meal with a family who is hurting, we don't look at our grocery bill and say "Sorry we don't have enough money in the budget this month to make a meal for you."  We try to live and give with absolutely open hands, and we are so fearful that budgeting will take that away from us.  Everyone we've talked to views a budget as freeing, as a means of feeling at peace with the way finances are allocated.  I am praying intensely that I will feel the same way when we're done.

I've been praying diligently for God to move in my heart in this area.  If He wants me to have a job, I want to be willing to do it, even if I would REALLY prefer not to have one.  If He wants me to pare back my grocery bill so that I can give to those who have absolutely nothing to eat, I want to be willing to do that.  I want to give cheerfully, not begrudgingly.  More than wanting to have the finances figured out, I want to have the right heart about them.  I don't want budgeting to take away the joy I have in giving, but I do want my giving to be guided by God. 

I'm really working on this in all areas of my life.  I don't want to give just to give.  I don't want to serve anywhere and everywhere, or throw my money at anyone or anything, I want to give according to where God wants me to give.  I think it can be dangerous to give without restraint, without guidance.  I think burnout can result from serving without wisdom and leading as to where to serve.  I am quick to do and slow to ask God if that is what He wants me to do.  So I'm working on that.

I have no real conclusion to this blog except to say that I know that Jesus tells me: "Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?" Matthew 6:26.  I am abundantly blessed.  God has provided for every need we have had.  It may not be in the ways that I would have chosen, but He has proven Himself faithful.  Always.  In every area of my life.  So I am daily, hourly and momentarily trying to surrender my concerns about money, to trade worry for faith.  To trust in the plans the Lord has for me. For Herb. For Isabelle.

People often say that money is one of the main causes for divorce, and in the Bible, money is the one thing that the rich young ruler is unwilling to give up to follow Jesus.  Money can destroy relationships, but I have committed to not allow money to destroy my relationship with my husband or my God.  I am so thankful that God has put Herb and I on the same page about money, and I pray that He continues to do so. I am grateful for the generosity of those around us and that God allows me to see so clearly His provision for our needs.  I just continue to pray for wisdom, for provision, for God's clear leading in every area of our lives, but especially this one.

The Disillusioned Mom

Disillusion: to free from or deprive of illusion, belief, idealism, etc.; disenchant.

Being a mother has completely rocked my existence, and while I knew it would I had no idea to what degree.  The life I once knew, the person I knew myself to be, and even my understanding of my God I knew changed entirely.  I really struggled with this change; I could not understand how something I had wanted so badly could leave me feeling, at times, so empty and so very lost.  I became disillusioned with the life I was leading.  Very few things were as I imagined they would be.

I think part of me was extremely ideal about motherhood.  I truly believed that it was a club where once I became a member I would find immediate acceptance and understanding.  Clearly everyone spoke the same language, shared the same struggles, needed the same things.  There would be instant friends, instant play dates, time would be spent making connections with other moms.  And yes being a mom would be so very hard, but it would be okay because I would find other moms willing to help me, willing to answer my questions, willing to let me sit on their couch and cry while my child screamed in my arms.  This was a pie-in-the-sky fantasy, one that I am ashamed to admit to have even conjured.  But I am ideal by nature.  I believe the best in people, I believe the best in situations, I believe the best in the future.  I am hopeful, I always have been. 

And perhaps there is nothing wrong with having the ideal, perhaps that wasn't where my problem lie.  Perhaps the problem arose in my response to the realities.  Because my response was disappointment, anger, despair, frustration, and loneliness. I could not believe how very alone I felt.  I never really realized how being a teacher shaped so much of who I was and fed into my belief that I could have it all. 

I have come to discover that I really had a lot of control in my world as a teacher.  Even though I did not know exactly how students would respond to a question or activity, I had the ability to pose the question, to plan the activity.  I walked into each day with an idea of what was going to happen, the materials necessary to implement my plan, and for the most part, the respect of the students who would follow along with my plan.  I had hundreds of meaningful conversations and relationships that I cultivated each day.  I would interact with teachers, students, staff and feel full knowing that I had invested in them, loved them the best that I could.  I felt safe and I had a large semblance of control in my day (which leads me to feeling more certain that when Another Country was banned from my classroom, I felt like I had lost control of my own little world and thus came my severe bout with anxiety.) 

I always believed that being a mom would not be unlike teaching.  I would provide my children with structure, I would have a plan and while I didn't know exactly how they would respond, out of their love and respect for me, they would follow along for the most part.  For those of you who are parents, you are laughing aloud right now at my naivete.  Because a typical day in the life of my child is not scheduled or planned at all.  I have no idea what time of day Izzy will wake up.  I don't know exactly when she'll want to eat or what she'll want to eat.  I may have an activity planned, but while we are out she'll suddenly become exhausted and need to sleep.  We will get home and then Isabelle will have a burst of energy and run like mad around our house.  I will try to put her down for a nap and she'll wriggle off of my lap to go find a corner to poop in.  She'll go down for a nap and I'll have no idea if she will want to sleep for an hour or three!  I'll start a blog post, an email, a shower and she will wake up crying, or screaming, needing immediate attention.  No manner of planning for my day ever works out.  In fact I would say that I can count on one hand the number of times I have done everything I set out to do in one day in the time I set out to do them.

This is not to say that I do not LOVE being Isabelle's mom!  The unpredictability, the laughter, the hugs, the joy, the learning of new things, the sharing of new experiences--these are the joys I get out of not having everything planned, out of not being in control.  Being a mom is nothing like I imagined in a lot of great ways too.  No one can imagine the immense warmth you feel when your child sees you and runs to you with a huge smile of recognition knowing you are Safe, you are Love.  No one can prepare your heart for the delight you will feel when your baby begins babbling nonsensical sounds that clearly are the most important words ever uttered.  There is no illusion that one can create in her mind that begins to touch on the miracles of mothering.  Those conceptions are shattered as well but they are stained glass windows broken to reveal the breathtaking view of God's hand-painted landscape!

And that is what I am coming to accept about the other shattered dreams of motherhood.  After angry, sad, frustrated conversations with God about how He was not providing for me, after agonizing over the emptiness that is unfilled play date times in my schedule, after wrestling with my own expectations of people, of God, of life, I have found at the core a disillusionment with myself.  Because it turns out I do not have anything together.  I don't have control of my life (and I never did before, even though I wanted to believe I did).  I am broken, I am flawed, I am so far from perfect at mothering, at friending, at serving God.  The God I had put in such a limited box, the God that complied to my structure, my control, my ideals, wasn't really God at all.  I had created God into my image instead of allowing Him to conform me to His image.  And I'm learning that the only way to be conformed to Him is to let Him break me.  The more I am a broken heap on the floor outside of Isabelle's room in the middle of the night when she won't sleep, the easier it is for Him to pick up the pieces and begin to build a masterpiece.  When I'm holding His hand only allowing Him to break off this piece here--it's dispensable--or to place that piece over there--it'll be less conspicuous that way--He is not free to create a reflection of Himself in me.

A few weeks ago at church the pastor said that those who are truly in a relationship with Christ would grow in humility and joy at the same time.  Let that sink in.  Humility? and Joy? at the same time?  How can realizing over and over again how broken I am result in joy?  Humility allows us to realize how much we need God and how much we have no idea what we actually need from God.  Humility says to God "You do it. You know better."  And then we get to sit back and watch, watch Him take the illusions we had for ourselves, shatter them, and reveal the real masterpiece hidden underneath.  There is joy is seeing who I can be if only I would let God work.

After a year of wrestling and being so disappointed with the way that motherhood is, with the mother I am and the mother I am not, I am finding peace.  This stay at home mom gig is so much harder than I imagined and not at all what I would have dreamed up for myself.  But I also would never have envisioned working with our refugee families and the joy that has come from building those relationships!  I never would have fathomed the beautiful conversations that Jesus and I have in the quiet of the night.  I could not have grasped the intense passion I now have for praying for those who are physically starving all over the world.  God knows what He's doing, I've seen that to be true over and over again in my life.  So even when my dreams are shattered I can believe that He is rebuilding a stained glass window in me of unspeakable beauty.

The Same Pain?

As some of you may know for the past 8 months or so I have been working with refugees in our community.  I have loved getting to know each of the families we've worked with, watching as they have grown accustomed to our culture and also observing a hard work and faith that far exceeds anything I believe myself to be capable of.  These families have suffered great injustice, unfathomable loss.  They have arrived in the US because the government has seen no other alternative; they cannot return home. They will be rejected, persecuted or killed if they return to their country of origin. And yet, I have seen greater joy in the faces of these women, men and children than I have seen on the faces of most of my fellow church goers!  These families believe so strongly in the goodness of God, which amazes me when you consider the immense evil they have lived through.  I seek to be like them, to have a faith that lights up in the face of adversity.

With all of this being said I would like to recount and try to wrestle with a topic that continues to haunt my brain.  I haven't landed on any sort of conclusion, but I want to discuss it anyway.  A few months ago the mother of my first refugee family, for this post I'll call her Anabelle, suffered a miscarriage, and from my calculation she was further along in her pregnancy, maybe 14 or 15 weeks.  She was far enough that the doctors had to do a D & C.  After hearing this news, I was crushed.  I wanted to show up on her doorstep with ice cream, flowers, a box of tissues, a chick flick, and my own grief slung over my shoulders.  I wasn't able to get over there that first week but one of my team members reported having visited her and seeing this beautiful woman wear a smile on her face.  Anabelle said that she was good and everything was fine. Was that true?  How was that even possible?

I've spent weeks turning this over in my head. My first inclination was to believe that she was just telling us what we wanted to hear.  Perhaps she believed that Americans smile at everything, don't let their guard down, refuse to show emotion or tears.  After all, didn't I have those moments after Hope's death where I just smiled and said I was fine because it was easier than getting into the whole big long thing?  They were rarer on the scale of my responses, yet they were still there.  And I would say that the grin and fake it method is far more commonplace in American society than we think (or maybe we all know that the other person is faking it and we just don't dare to dig deeper.)  I met and read so many stories of women who, after losing a child, never did really work through their pain, nor did they feel like they were free to.  They felt obligated to move on and try again because their loss really wasn't "that big of a deal".  The loss of their baby wasn't a real loss because "it wasn't really a child" and "it's not like you knew them".  I think it is a pedestrian truth in our society that losing an unborn child is not real grief, and unfortunately many grieving mothers are shamed into believing this.  But I digress.  So it is possible that Anabelle was telling these American friends what she believed they wanted to hear.  Yet I've been wrestling with another possibility.

I think it is distinctly possible that this loss was not as hard on her as it was on me.  Anabelle lost a mother and father, siblings, her country, her world, everything she ever knew.  Perhaps when one has suffered such immense loss, the loss of a child feels far less significant.  I have tried to think this through.  Is it possible that loss itself becomes commonplace in one's life?  Is it possible that after losing friend after friend, family member after family member, one just becomes numb to the experience?  And is it even possible that with such poor health and living conditions, the death of unborn children is unexceptional, the norm?  Do these women in such distressed parts of the world not truly become attached to their unborn children because they know the terrible risks of losing that child?  These are questions I want to know the answer to but feel uncomfortable asking Anabelle.  How do you ask someone to rank their pain and loss?  Would my questions be helpful and healing or merely intrusive and hurtful?  I think I need to know her better, to know the family better before diving head first into such personal topics.

But I think regardless of her answers to those questions, I am having to answer my own questions.  Is it possible that a loss that completely shattered my world, reshaped my God-view, defined who I am, could just be a blip on the screen of another woman?  Could it be that my safe, healthy and comfortable life made the pain of loss so very intolerable?  And then is my response wrong?  Did I allow my loss to have too much power?  Was my pain really no big deal?

I have to believe that my pain was the completely appropriate response to the magnitude of loss in my own life.  Perhaps if I had had different life experiences or if I lived in a disparate land my response could have, or perhaps would have, been different.  But I lived here, in my comfortable suburban home, amongst the richest 10% of people in the world, with food on my table, my family within reach, my place of worship down the road, all reachable with my very own car.  So the loss of my long awaited child shattered me.  And then slowly I allowed God to pick up the pieces and rebuild me, shape me, mold me into the woman He wanted me to become.  From immense, world shattering pain, came healing, joy, peace, freedom.  These gifts I carry with me today, knowing deep down that Isabelle, Herb, Kevyn, my mom, my friends and family are on loan to me.  I hold them, but I hold them more loosely than I might have before.  When God plans to call them home I will be devastated, but I hope I will have more peace, that I will be able to rest in God's perfect plan.

So it is possible that Anabelle's pain has already brought her to that place.  Perhaps the loss in her life has given her the ability to hold more loosely to the children God has given her, and to trust in Him when He takes them away.  Maybe she already sees the plans God has for her, maybe she sees the purpose for the pain and trusts God in her loss.

Her response actually gives me hope, hope that when loss comes again, for I know it will, perhaps I will be able to respond with joy.  Not false happiness, and I certainly know that I won't be full of wide smiles, but true joy in knowing that God has a plan and that I can rest in Him.

I Needed That

Here's the prayer exchange I had with God this morning.  Warning: it's raw.  It's prayer. It's unedited and it's true.  I hope that perhaps it encourages you as much as it did me.  I needed to be reminded that God can and does speak if indeed I listen.  The words in red are what I heard God saying to me.

Gracious Father, I come before You broken.  I know You are the only one who can fill me and yet I don’t feel full.  I am quick to blame that on Your inadequacies but I know deep down it’s me.  But focusing on my inadequate means to connect with You only makes it worse.  It makes me feel worse about myself, worse about what I’m incapable of doing.  It makes me feel like a failure in pursuing You, on top of my perceived failures as a wife and friend.  I’m empty Jesus please come and fill me.

Let me settle down at Your feet.  Let me try to drown out the noise around me.  Allow me to be a blubbering disappointed, disillusioned mess. And love me anyway.  Father, I think a lot of my brokenness comes from failed expectations I have had about this stay at home mom gig.  I thought mothering would come naturally to me, I thought that snuggling my little girl would bring me comfort, I thought that being a mom would allow me to step into the realm of motherhood where everyone else belonged, that it would allow me to belong.  But it turns out I still don’t belong just as much as I did before, and perhaps I even belong less because I no longer belong to the teacher-school world, or the world of students.  I feel often like I don’t belong in my marriage, like I don’t belong as Izzy’s mother, like I really don’t belong as your child.  As per usual, as is my ongoing struggle, I feel like I’m not enough.  I’m constantly seeking to be enough to everyone and wondering why they aren’t enough for me.  I know why they aren’t enough for me, You are the only one who can be enough, and yet I feel your silence.

Your silence these days is deafening to me. I hear snippets, I hear your guidance a few times a day as I consult You with decisions about how to parent Isabelle, but I don’t feel your presence.  I wonder how You can fill the void of a desperate need for conversation, my desperate need to be heard and share life.  And yet I know that there are many who live alone, in the wilderness, like David fleeing from Saul, who didn’t feel alone, who felt you at every turn, every decision.  You are the God of the universe, of course You are capable of being enough for me, and yet I doubt, and yet I try to fill my emptiness with others.  I think I’m asking something of people that they can’t give, maybe, but part of me feels like I’m not.  I guess regardless of what they are or are not able or willing to give, I need to realize that what they give me should just be extra.  I should already be filled by you.  But how?  Seriously, how Jesus?  Tell me how to be filled by you. 

I pray I think pretty regularly throughout the day, I spend time reading and memorizing Your word, I serve you, I invite the Holy Spirit to move through me, why am I still empty?  What am I missing?  Speak to me Holy Spirit, intercede for the Father and tell me, what am I missing?

Freedom is the word that comes to mind. Gratefulness. Time. Me. You’re missing Me. My heart. Don’t be so caught up in the intellectual.  Listen to your heart, listen to My heart. What is my heart for you?  You know this. I have plans to prosper and not to harm you. So rest. Trust.  If I have you walking through this right now, there is a reason.  Wasn’t there a reason for your anxiety? Wasn’t there a reason for losing Hope?  There’s always a purpose to the pain. “It’s the moment when humanity is overcome by majesty, when grace is ushered in for good and all pain is understand, when mercy takes its rightful place.” “Spurn the words that I despise, hear the words I can’t deny, watch the world I used to know, fall to dust and blown away.  I look beyond the empty cross forgetting what my life has cost, take my beauty take my tears, take my sin and make it yours. take my world apart, take my world apart, take me now take me now. Worlds apart.” Stop taking the cross for granted.  Take a good long hard look at it. I’m there. I’m bleeding, for you.  You have been given a spirit of adoption, as sons by which you cry out “Abba Father”. The spirit testifies along with your spirit that you are a child of God. And if a child an heir also, an heir of God and fellow heir of Christ if indeed you suffer with Christ, that you might also be glorified with Him.  For you consider the sufferings of this present world as not worthy to be compared to the glory that is to come.  For the anxious longing of creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God. You are my child, my beloved, in whom I am well pleased.  I can and will fill you, if you let me.  Please let me.  I am the perfect bridegroom, I adore you, and I have sent you a great love letter.  Don’t ignore it.  Don’t push it aside.  Let it be everything to you.  Let it define you.  In those moments where Izzy is screaming, where friends aren’t calling, when Herb doesn’t praise you, let my words define you. When your world is crumbling all around you, let me carry you.  Let me tell you you are beautiful even if you didn’t get to work out today and you can’t lose those last 5 pounds and none of your clothes fit.  I don’t care. I see you naked, raw, broken and I love you. I don’t know how I could’ve made that any more clear, I gave my most precious gift for you.  For YOU.  Are you listening?  Are you letting this sink in?  Stop thinking about what you have to do next or what you should be doing and listen: I CHOSE you.  Why do you think I have you reading Romans right now?  I don’t care about predestination, I don’t care about the logical arguments people can make, I care enough to tell you that I CHOSE YOU. YOU, Katie Sue Garcia, I want to spend time with you, I want to hear your stories and your thoughts, I want to lift you up when you feel broken down, I want to meet your needs, I want to encourage you, I want to make you feel loved. I CHOSE you to be Isabelle’s mom, and Herb’s wife, and Janell’s friend, and Kevyn’s sister, and Kerry’s daughter. I specifically CHOSE you to serve the refugee families you work with, to sit in your YM group every week, to teach the students that sat in your classroom, and to now sit in your home and care for your child.  I CHOSE this.  It may not be what you envisioned, but I want this for you because I want this for your daughter.  I want this for the refugee families you now have time to work with. I want this for my kingdom.  You are doing a mighty work, and it’s just as mighty as the work you did in the classroom.  It’s not as glamorous and you don’t get as much affirmation, but that’s okay.  Look to me for the affirmation, look at your sweet smiling girl.  She is so secure because of the mom you are.  Believe it, don’t doubt it.  Stop doubting my love for you, my plan for you.  I am your great redeemer , that is who you tout me to be when people ask you about who I am.  So believe it! Are you listening? Believe that I will redeem your pain, I will redeem your sleepless nights, I will redeem your loneliness, and I will redeem your doubts in who you are.  I AM and stop trying to stop me from being who I AM.  Let me be me, so that you can be you, in all of your glory.  Do you hear me Katie?  You are glorious—you have allowed my light to shine through you, so you are glorious.  Walk in my Spirit, walk in my glory and I will walk beside you, with you, in you and through you.  You are not alone, so stop listening to the silence of this world and listen to the glory of my truth. I’ve got this, I’ve got you. So trust me.

God thank you!  Thank you for speaking truth over my heart!  I needed to hear you and I’m so thankful I quieted my complaining heart long enough to listen.  Thank you!  Please God, don’t let these words of truth fall out of my ears.  Don’t let Satan’s lies reign.  When Satan begins to speak, shout Him down with your truth.  And give me discernment to hear your voice and yours alone.

God daily remind me that I need this time.  I need the time to quiet my heart before you.  No matter what to do list breathes down my neck, no matter how urgent other things seem to be, let me rest at your feet first.  Let the world fade away. Be my everything.  And help me to let you be that to me.

Amen.

Social Justice

Did you know that 27 million women and children are enslaved around the world today? Did you know that 26,000 children die of hunger EVERY single day in this world? More than two billion people survive on less than 2 dollars a day and another million more survive on less than one! These statistics were staggering to me as I read them and heard them over the last few months. These things had been true for quite some time, how did I not know them before now? Had I heard these statistics before and just closed my ears? I'm not sure.

What I do know is that is was just ten years ago as a college sophomore that I was SO frustrated with the inundated message of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship that we as people of God should be about social justice. I felt like every day they were asking me to leave everything and walk into the world carrying my Bible like a sword. I felt as if they were saying what I was doing was not enough. I felt like they were belittling my life and telling me to find a new one. I took it personally. They never really explained to me what social justice was, or at least not that I can remember. I don't remember hearing these numbers; I don't remember conjuring images of cruel men using defenseless and scared women as their play things. I don't recall envisioning the hollow eyes of hungry children in need of just one nibble of food. If those images did appear they certainly didn't seem real to me.

But now they are completely real. Last Fall I read the book Radical by David Platt. The premise of the book is that it is important to take the American Dream out of the church and instead replace it God's word, God's calling. This book is powerful. I don't agree with everything he says and he uses hyperbole to make his point in a way that can be alienating to the reader, but the Holy Spirit was at work in my heart as I read Radical and I am radically changed.

For too long I have had my eyes closed to the desperate need of this world; the need of a Savior. I have known this truth intellectually and I have known this truth theoretically, but I haven't really known this truth in my heart of hearts. This world NEEDS Jesus. And it not only NEEDS Jesus, it NEEDS the people of Jesus to step up and fight for injustice. This world NEEDS me to partner with Jesus to feed the hungry, to free the captives, to bring truth. Whether I walk to their doorstep and deliver food or pray for the people who will, I NEED to DO something. I NEED to fight injustice, God has called me to it. Micah 6:8 says:

He has told you, O man, what is good;
And what does the LORD require of you
But to do justice, to love kindness,
And to walk humbly with your God?

The last part of the verse calls me to walk humbly; I believe that to be both in spirit and in lifestyle. I am now very aware of the money I spend and the cost that it is to the rest of the world. I love my coffee at Starbucks but when I drink it I think about how that $5 could have fed 5 children in a third world country. When we eat out, which is rarely now, I think about how much food could be purchased with our $30 bill for those who ache with an empty stomach. It's both a blessing and a curse to think on these things--I realize daily what a gift my life is, but I am also prompted to realize the swelling need in this world.

It's hard to say if I was responsible for the lives and hearts of these people in college when my eyes were closed to the injustice of this world. But now God has convicted my heart, He has made me aware, He has given me very powerful images of the pain and suffering in this world, so now I am accountable. I must do something. But what?

I am thinking on and working on this. I have started working with the refugee families in our community bringing friendship and partnership to families completely uprooted from everything they've ever known. I am hoping and praying about ways to bring food to new mothers who are on AHCCCS here in Tucson. And I am praying, praying for the nations, praying for the poor, praying for those who are enslaved. Psalm 2:8 says:

‘Ask of Me, and I will surely give the nations as Your inheritance,
And the very ends of the earth as Your possession.

I want to believe that prayer has the power to not only move mountains, but fill empty stomachs, break chains and bring salvation to the lost. So I am praying.

It has been hard for me these last months as God has been convicting my heart to watch others not feel the same conviction. My life and perspective has been changed and I want theirs to change as well. But I've come to realize that God convicts each heart in His own time. I'm sure that there were people in college who were frustrated with my lack of care and concern for social justice, but the Holy Spirit hadn't prompted my heart to that understanding yet. So I seek to be patient knowing that the Lord moves in His own timing.

But just because others aren't convicted as I am does not mean that I will stay silent. I must share what God is doing in my life because it is a powerful work! And as each one of us shares God continues to soften our hearts and reveal His truth to us. May our hearts always be softened and our ears open to hear what God is doing in this world. And may we never stop bringing God to a world so desperately in need of Him!