Saturday, October 24, 2015

Self-reflection



Confined. Mirrors all around. Myself. That's all I see. I am stuck. Feet firmly planted. Not planted. Stuck. In goo. I struggle. The goo snaps my frail foot back in place. I beat the mirror. Wishing it would shatter. 
I know. I know of a world beyond these reflective confines. The mirrors mock me. I long to look past them, but the more I gaze, nothing changes. 
The same, sessile, lonely image looks back at me. Empty. Despondent. Dull. Dead.

In my mind, I reflect upon what I know to be true. A reality beyond these irredescent walls. Reflect- as if it is a memory. It is not a memory. Memories are in the past. This is present. It is real and true. But I cannot see it. It becomes fiction to me.
Which side of my walls is actually fiction? 
The outside of my shiny confines, or this funhouse in which I am trapped?

The illusion. This fake, man-made falsehood. An impostor for substance. It surrounds me. And I cannot break my way out. 

I give up. I gaze at my reflection. Become consumed. Entranced. It is all I have to gaze upon. So I fixate. Everywhere I look I only see me. Naturally, I begin to believe everything surrounds this singular point. Every wall around me has an image only because I am here providing it. This is all there is. I am surrounded... By me. I am the definer of all purpose and existence. All reality has me at its center. 

I gaze upon the cold, reflective images of myself. Accepting that this is all there is. 

Then...

my calling returns: 

A pull away from this place. A desire to shift my gaze. A hope that there is something beyond me. 
An open space. A fresh gaze. A place of freedom. 

I stop looking around me, realizing that what I am searching for cannot be found horizontally. 
So finally... I look up. 


“Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.”
― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity



Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Leaving Early But Not Running Away

It was late. I was folding clothes, doing something to occupy my mind. I was restless. I had returned home from Guatemala the night before. My time up to this point had been filled with hugs and quick conversations, trying to fit a month into 20 minutes. My body was tired, brain confused. 

As I folded clothes I remembered the worn hands of a new friend, graciously instructing me as she squeezed out what seemed like gallons of water that I had failed to extract from my hand-washed clothes. I cleared my mind and went back to mindlessly cleaning. 

I thought about my "Partner in Christ," Emily, and the adventure that God had planned for the rest of her time in Guatemala. I stopped thinking and returned to my tasks.

I didn’t quite know how to process the days that had led to my returning home, and I just wanted some time of "not thinking." 
I knew that I had made the right decision. Although my heart desired to be in Guatemala, I knew that returning home early was what I had to do. I had prayed about the decision for many days, as well as every other decision. I had never prayed so much. Emily prayed with me as we tried to determine where God wanted us to be. I knew it was the right decision. I just felt so full of emotion. Everything happened so fast. I cleared my mind and continued cleaning. It was empty and silent.

"Second Timothy 4. Second Timothy 4. Second Timothy 4. Second Timothy 4. Second Timothy 4." 

Ummm... Well my mind was clear. "Second Timothy 4." "Second Timothy 4." It was like I was repeating song lyrics or had a children's rhyme stuck in my head. Except it was different because these words were nothing I had heard recently or would have any reason to think about. "Second Timothy 4." "Second Timothy 4." 

If you know me, you know that I am not one to "over spiritualize" a situation. I am going to assume everything else first and then narrow it down to maybe being from God. However, this moment was so clear and distinct to me that I picked up my Bible, said a quick prayer asking for guidance and discernment, and began to read Second Timothy 4.


This chapter has provided deep encouragement over the past few weeks as I have struggled through my definition of ministry, my materialism, my own fleshliness, and my duty as a Christian.

Here are some things that have jumped out to me from the chapter and have been significant:

Jesus is a Judge
In the very first verse Paul describes Christ Jesus as the “judge of the living and the dead.” 
If you are looking for love or acceptance or grace, the God of Christianity is the very source and definition and image of all of these things. His love surpasses anything we can even grasp. But do not forget that He is a judge. He is just, which is a part of what makes Him good. Therefore, He judges. To say He is only love and is not a judge is to segment His character and very nature.

When I seek to deny Him as judge, I am really seeking to eliminate my deserved judgement and accountability.

We Have to Step Up
Paul says, “I give you this charge:”
1.     Preach the Word
2.     Be Prepared
3.     Correct
4.     Rebuke
5.     Encourage

But why do we have to do this? Because...

“The time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine.
Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear.
They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths” (3-4).

Woah. That is a big deal… Let’s think about what we do to “suit our own desires.”

Here are some typical comments from Christian and non-Christian friends that are worth discussing here:

·        You should not judge.
·        No one can say what is right and what is wrong.
·        If that is what they want to do, then that is their choice.
·        The Bible is just interpretation.
·        Doctrine is not important.
·        God is love. That’s all I know and that’s what’s important.


Read the verses above and then read the comments. See a problem? As believers, how can we say doctrine and truth are not important when we are called to preserve them?

I’m not convinced that we actually think these ideas are legitimate. Instead, I think we want to run away from the truth because it is in conflict with our own desires.  


My Confession
Let me admit that sometimes a part of me wishes all of these comments were true. If they were, I would be so comfortable.

I love to say what people want to hear. I love to make people happy and get their approval. I am a people-pleaser. Wouldn’t it be easier to never disagree with people, to celebrate with them, to never feel awkward or intolerant. How comfortable that would be?    

The truth is not comfortable. Real life is hard. When we have to deal with difficult reality, we build walls and create shiny distractions and hope that our self-constructed myth about “real life” will keep us pacified.  

I know that’s what I want to do. 
Before I left the States, I was feverish with excitement and zeal—knowing exactly what kind of living conditions I was willingly stepping into. However, when confronted with poverty that is visible, tangible, integral, it is not a fairy-tale adventure. It is scary. It is scary because it is real.
It is real to watch a fourteen year old have her adult teeth pulled because her family has no money to repair the rot that has overtaken them.

It is real to be a woman entrapped by entire days of nothing but washing clothes with your tired and aching hands.

It is real to wake up before sunrise to make tortillas to provide for your family— not to provide new Nikes and smartphone upgrades— but instead to provide food and a couple of outfits that your kids will wear until your worn hands have scrubbed holes into them hoping to rid them of the never-ending dirt and stains.

I found Christ in me wanting to be a part of this life. Knowing their struggle. Feeling their pain. Loving them through it. Experiencing it with them. But I found my flesh wanting to run. I wondered “what if this was real for me every day?”


It is real for me. As a Christian, I am without excuse. I cannot turn a blind eye. We cannot continually seek distractions from hardships. We have to face reality and endure it.  

As Christians we cannot run: “keep your head in all situations, endure hardships, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry” (5).


*Notice what Paul does here:
1. Identifies Jesus as a judge
2. Tells believers to be prepared, to preach, rebuke, correct, encourage 
3. Tells us what is at risk: Loss of sound doctrine and abandonment of the truth
4. Encourages us because he knows it will be hard

If we are called to preach the Word, then we have to crave the Word and come to know it.
If we are called to be prepared, then we have to know what is contradictory to the Word.
If we are called to rebuke, correct, and encourage, we have to know the truth and be able to identify it.

Luke 12:48 says, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.”

So what have we been entrusted with? The truth.

So why, even as believers, are we constantly exchanging “the truth for a myth?”

The truth is hard. The gospel is hard. But you have been entrusted with much. Know that you are not alone in “fighting the good fight.” Paul writes in verse 10 that his partner Demas left him because he “loved this world.” I confess that I love this world, too. My flesh runs toward things of the world. Thankfully we are not left to our own strength. 

We will face harsh reality. We will struggle to cling to the truth. Hopefully one day, with strength from God (17), we will get to repeat Paul's words: 

"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith" (7).


 


Wednesday, June 17, 2015

"The Man with the Blue Eyes"

Here's a brief update on things:

Vicky 

Let me introduce you to Vicky. She walks me and Emily to the bus every day. She is our protector 😉. She brought this dress specifically for a picture with us 💗.



Amoeba Amigas

Emily and I were both sick for a couple days last week. We ate a lot of granola and Pedialyte and are much better! The doctor diagnosed us with amoebas. 


The Team

A fantastic team from Nebraska has now joined us for a week. We love them! They are awesome. We joined them at the daycare for a Bible story and piñata fun! 



The Daycare

Emily and I have been working at the daycare center all week. The students that attend range from ages 2-15. It is a daycare center because they don't have any specific instruction that occurs there. Some students go to school somewhere for part of the day and then stay at the center the rest of the day. Many parents are in bad situations like abusive relationships, alcoholism, or prostitution. They pay $3 a month for their students to attend the center. The kids flock to us and crave our hugs and love.



Casa de Caleb

Monday we went with the team to a nursing home called Casa de Caleb. I had an awesome experience with a patient there. Here is my story of "The Man with the Blue Eyes." 

The Guatemalan sun was hot and bright as we stepped out of the van, a little car sick from the twisting curves and intoxicating scent of the thick exhaust. 

We were all quiet as we walked into the dark room. The smell of urine was strong. The room was lined with elderly men and women in their wheel chairs, their faces dark complected and a bit solemn. 

It's strange how God can erase physical boundaries when you are meeting people with the prime purpose of showing them His love. Hugging these strangers and holding their hands came naturally as I communicated with them through my broken Spanish. 

I sat down next to a woman and had just finished basic conversational topics when a nurse wheeled a man up beside me. I noticed that his skin was much lighter than the other patients'. As he lifted his head to look at me, his eyes shocked me. Light blue. Something about his eyes were so familiar and gentle to me. He looked like my dad. As I looked into his eyes, I felt like I was looking at my dad again. 

I started speaking to him in Spanish, and he was only able to return small indistinguishable mumbles. After a few minutes of struggling to hear him, I realized that he was speaking to me in English! I was overjoyed! 

What was this light-skinned, blue-eyed, English-speaking man doing in a nursing home in Guatemala?

All of a sudden he stopped talking to me. His eyes lit up and a huge smile came across his face. I noticed that he was looking past me into the lobby. A young Guatemalan girl was standing in the lobby looking at him. I thought he would jump out of his chair with excitement! I motioned for her to come in. She walked in and gave him a big hug; his smile widened. 

I asked her if he was her grandfather, and she explained that he was her dad. She was so excited that I was there talking to him. She only spoke Spanish, but her ears were perfectly attuned to understand her father's jumbled whispers. 

We sat in a little circle together. I spoke to her dad in English; he mustered up a whispered response to her in Spanish, and she delivered his response to me in Spanish. We sat there in beautiful connectedness as our conversation flowed through the three of us for almost an hour. 

During this time, I learned the story if his life:

-He was born in Italy.

-When he was twenty he moved to Louisiana and played football for LSU while he studied dentistry. 

-When he was twenty-four he joined the Marines and travelled to many different countries. He lived in Panama for a while and eventually Guatemala. 

-He is now 76.

-His daughter that was visiting is 14 and is the youngest of 14 children that live in several countries including the U.S. and Canada.

He mention where everyone lived a few times during the conversation. Each time this happened, his eyes tinted pink and welled up with tears. His low whisper became shaky as he mumbled, "And I am here alone." It was clear that this statement bothered his young daughter, but she remained strong and stroked his hand. 

Near the end of our time together, he looked at me with his eyes full of purpose, determined to convey something. 

Very clearly I heard, "Romans 8:28." At this, I pulled out my Bible and read it for us: "All things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose."

He explained that he had been raised Catholic and came to know Jesus personally when he visited a Protestant church when he was 24. After this, he started reading the Bible and completed reading it entirely in three months. 

As I got up to leave, he clenched my hand and his eyes filled with tears again as he whispered "I love you" several times.

I left the nursing home full. 
All I could see was his eyes. His eyes set him apart from everyone else. His eyes communicated for him. His eyes connected me to him. 
I thought about a song by Matthew West:

Give me your eyes for just one second.
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I've been missing.
Give me your eyes for humanity. 

God did not just give me this man's eyes. He was giving me His own eyes. God was giving me a little glimpse through His lenses- His eyes that see far better than mine. They see brokenness, frustration, heartache, love, worth. They see reality. In that time, God gave me a little bit if His heart for humanity. 

Romans 8:28

Throughout this past week, Emily and I have had to make some big decisions together. We were asked to move to an indigenous community to live for a week. We went back and forth about going. We couldn't feel a conviction in either direction. Based on our uneasiness and how difficult it was to make a decision, we decided not to go. It was so hard and stressful. We prayed and wrestled with the decision for three days. It was exhausting. 
Unfortunately, declining this opportunity caused a lot of conflict. 
We made this decision Monday morning. The man in the nursing home shared Romans 8:28 with me around lunch. Not knowing about the man from the nursing home, a woman shared Romans 8:28 with me again that afternoon. That night, Emily's mom shared that same verse with her.
It became clear to us that although we had not felt God in our decision-making process, He was clearly sending us a message of comfort and peace- encouraging us to continue seeking Him. 

We have been called according to His purpose. We are not promised that all things will be good through our own eyes. We are promised that He will work them together for good through His perfect, unchanging, grace-filled perspective. 





Saturday, June 6, 2015

I Have Seen the Mountains

As I flew into Guatemala City, I clung to the window, thirsty for what was beneath me on the other side. The clouds billowed toward the plane, revealing what stood below them. I gasped. Mountains. Mountains like I had never seen before. I was awestruck. I felt something well up from deep inside my stomach as I gazed at the handiwork of my Creator. How powerful. And who am I that He would care for me?

"When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?"(Psalm 8:3-4 NIV)

I thought about the size and majesty of the mountains throughout the day. I thought about how incredible it would be to see a volcano or historic ruins. 



Tonight, as I sit here processing the past week and my first day in Guatemala, God is bringing some things into focus for me.
First of all, about my day: I am serving alongside a lovely, vivacious girl from New York named Emily. Her genuine love for people flows from her and touches everyone she's around. She is so open and welcoming to the people she meets. People are instantly softened and comforted by her presence as she takes time to hug on them and listen to them. 
We are staying at a seminary school that is currently only in use by a pastor and his family, who are functioning as our hosts. There are some extended family and a few children here, as well. The pastor is the only person that speaks a little English, so we all have perfect opportunities for sharing our languages each other. The whole family is beautiful. The children are so kind and curious and loving. 

All of the experiences and thoughts of the day came together at dinner tonight when our host asked me to pray before we ate. I was so honored. As we bowed our heads with one another, it all hit me.
Different backgrounds, different languages, different colors, different foods, different ways of life... All connected by one single commonality: Our Savior- Weaving our lives together and working in us and through us. To meet my brothers and sisters at this place was truly one of the greatest honors I have ever had.

It was then that I realized...

If I can sit down to a modest meal made with love and hospitality, at a table where not just cultures and foods are shared but where the love of brothers and sisters in Christ converge,
I have seen the mountains. 

If I can see the brokenness in this place,
I have seen the mountains. 

If I can see the reality and struggle and pain in this place,
I have seen the mountains. 

If I meet people whose lives and actions are devoted to Jesus,
I have seen the mountains. 

If the chains wrapping me in my own selfishness are broken,
I have seen the mountains. 

If I can love openly and embrace people that I don't even know and they become family,
I have seen the mountains. 

If I can see people understood through hugs and smiles and laughter rather than words,
I have seen the mountains. 

And if I have seen the mountains, I have seen Our Creator.

Thanks for the continued prayers and love, guys!

I send you so much love! 


Monday, June 1, 2015

Just An Explorer

Matagalpa Happenings 

I arrived in Matagalpa Friday and spent the weekend catching up with some of the awesome people working here. We went to Selva Negra and hiked in the rainforest for a few enchanting hours. It was so lush and gorgeous, despite the lack of rainfall in the surrounding areas. 

Today I filled in for the teaching assistant for the Kindergarten class. They kids were so cute and gracious and energetic. At the end of the day I joined the 9th graders for some conversational English. It is really cool to see how much they have progressed over the past couple of years. They have become so mature and disciplined... And I wish my Spanish was as good as their English. 

Tonight we went to a local ice cream shop that a couple from California opened this year. They created the shop to earn revenue for a greatly needed boys home here in Matagalapa. And the ice cream was AMAZING, so we were happy to help their cause. 


Just an Explorer

As I was traveling Friday and as I have been spending time with the missionaries here this weekend, I have been pondering the real purpose of "missions." When doing missions (or whenever you go to another country for any reason other than shopping or sunbathing, really) you usually get a few comments from people:

"You are just so adventurous."
"You are going to have so much fun."
"You are doing such a great thing."
"You are so kind to help others and see how blessed you really are."

Over the past few years, as God has laid missions on my heart more heavily, I have wondered why these comments are generally unsettling to me. When people share them with me I am aware of the intentions and know that people are genuinely extending love and encouragement, but I am left questioning.... 

"Is that really what 'missions' is about?"

If it is all about what I can do and experience, then doesn't that make missions all about ME?

"I like adventure."
"I like to travel."
"I like new cultures."
"I can help you because I am blessed."

I now understand why all of those statements make me uneasy. The entire basis of them is contrary to the gospel. The gospel says that it is not about me. I am just as broken as everyone else. 

Therefore, if the Bible tells me that my good works are like filthy rags, then missions can simply not be about me. It cannot be about the greatness that I am going to do for people.

As I was on the plane to Nicaragua Friday I noticed that my Coke said, "Share a Coke with an Explorer." This made me realize something about the nature of missions. Any kind of "mission" that we take to share the gospel of Jesus Christ will force us out of our comfort zones (If you have experienced those "Lord, I will talk about You with this person as soon as you slow my heart rate down and take away my urge to throw up" moments, then you know what I mean). 
As we are pulled out of our comfort zones, we are not adventurers or charity-givers, or good people. We are explorers.

 

But we are not explorers in the sense of discovering the riches of a new land and culture, which can happen along the way. Instead, we are explores in a much deeper sense. 

We become explorers of our own brokenness and poverty. Explorers of a poverty that traverses all of humanity- including ourselves. 

Seth Barnes writes,

"We may begin our pilgrimage with noble aspirations of how we will bring something to the poor. But, inevitably, we must allow God to first heal what is sick and poor inside our own souls. Then, he can use us in the world. If it is a pilgrimage to the poor on which we embark, we must first discover our own poverty."


Being in a new place allows us to see our brokenness very quickly. It shatters our sense of independence. In my experiences in Nicaragua I have found my brokenness in many ways but mainly through my constant struggle to understand people and to convey myself (in case you did not know, people who are bilingual have a superpower that everyone should envy and painfully desire to attain)...
 My Spanish struggle is real.

Beyond my Spanish struggle, though, I am constantly reminded of God's greatness and our weakness. Today I spent my lunch break talking with a woman who lives in Matagalpa with her husband. They are missionaries here from North Carolina, and I had the privilege of meeting her at a Bible study when I was here last year. 
She described her family's journey as they responded to God's call for them to serve to Nicaragua. She emphasized how "unqualified" they were to be missionaries and how fearful she was of coming to a country she knew nothing about. When I asked her how she felt about it now, she said that she would not trade this journey and this life for anything. 

She had to deny her own desire to stay in the States and do ministry there. She said she has never had to trust in God so much. Throughout this time, God has changed her heart and she has "fallen in love with the people of Nicaragua." This conversation took place as she was shelving books at the school library because she has seen their need and is humble enough to come once a week to help meet that need.

When we are forced to set aside our comfort and status and confidence and complete understanding of how everything works and our solid plans of the future, we step into the margins. We are no longer at the center of everything:

"Taking us to the margins of life where we can discover poverty, God wants us to see ourselves in those who are poor. He wants us to identify with people who are outcasts, estranged from the comforts of home and community" (Barnes).

To sum it up, missions is a mirror of the gospel. Christianity is unique in its assertion that our works cannot bring us to salvation or Nirvana or enlightenment or happiness. We, on our own, are empty and hopeless. In the same way, we cannot do anything to bring healing to people because we are also in need of healing. 

So what do we do?...

We need healing. So we point to the healer.
We can't save. So we point to the  One who saves.
We can't keep people from dying. So we point to the way of everlasting life.

God doesn't need us. He's already with the poor- carrying them through their poverty as He carries is through our own poverty, whether spiritual or material.

Bono identified God's omnipresence beautifully when he said, 
“God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives… God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war… God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them.”

God doesn't need us, but He wants us. 
He wants us to be obedient and malleable, realizing He is holding all things together. He wants us to be explorers of our weakness and His strength. 

Are you an explorer? 

What is God calling you to explore? 

What can help you explore the poverty that is not just about dollar signs, but is a poverty that runs through all of us? 

Thank you for the prayers and encouragement! Much love! 





Monday, May 25, 2015

Preparing to Leave

Abandonment

This Friday I am flying to Nicaragua to visit my Nica family and friends that I met there two summers ago. After a week there, I will fly to Guatemala to stay with a new host family for a month and, if it is anything like my experience in Nicaragua, I will meet some incredible people that love Jesus.

As I prepare to leave, I have been praying and thinking about a lot of things: self, society, culture, abandonment, brokeness... the "meaning of life"... you know... deep stuff. During this time, I have been reading Kingdom Journeys by Seth Barnes. On the topic of abandonment Barnes writes,

"As a part of the abandonment process, God asks us to give up control and remain open to new things. We leave as an act of obedience so we can learn to depend more on God, allowing Him to increase our spiritual vision. Jesus said that when the eyes are healthy, the whole body is full of light (Luke 11:34). Abandonment causes our eyes to open wide.”

This idea of abandonment caused me to think about the things in my life that would be the hardest to abandon. What would bring me out of my comfort zone and cause me to be truly dependent on God? There are obviously many things, but in prayer and thoughtfulness one main thing stood out to me: My appearance. I blush just typing it… Ugh, how superficial. Some people may say food or clothing or family, but for me, it’s makeup. Let me explain…

My close friends know that I have a tight grip on my makeup—or maybe it has a tight grip on me? Although over the years I have gotten better about my level of discomfort when I am not wearing makeup, I can say with 100% certainty that there has never been a day (A SINGLE DAY) of high school (including every summer band camp), college, or my teaching career that I have ever shown up without my makeup being fully done. Even if we are going swimming, I will probably be applying waterproof mascara. And if not, I will be constantly fighting the need to leave my sunglasses on the entire time to not unveil my mascara-free eyelashes.

So there it is, the depth of my insecurity and superficiality: unmasked.

So as a part of abandonment, as I pack this Friday, I am prepared to leave all of my makeup, my hair dryer, my straightener, and all other beauty products behind. I will be in Central America and they will be in Roopville. All of my “necessary” items—left behind.
Why do I feel the onset of hyperventilation? It’s just a bag of stuff. Or is it? No, it’s much more than that. It’s a cover. With one swipe I can hide any blemishes. With a few strokes I can totally change what is natural. I can cover what is natural with something that feels better.

But then again, I cover myself with other things, too. Don’t we all? We say, “Let me tell you about my job, my new car, my education, my Instagram followers, my success, my big house, my retirement account.” Are all of these things not a cover? A cover insulating us from the truth…

The truth: I am weak.

We create this façade of self-sufficiency, as if we are the creators and keepers of all our success and wealth and skill. Why should we need anything else when we are so powerful? We hear it our whole lives:

“You can be whatever you want to be.”
“You can do whatever you set your mind to.”
“Make your dreams come true.”
“She thought she could, so she did.”

Are we not persistently covering ourselves in the illusion of self-sufficiency? The Bible tells us that we are not self-sufficient. God is our strength:

“God is our refuge and strength…”
“The Lord is my strength and my shield…”
“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation.”
(Psalm 46:1, Psalm 28:7, Isaiah 12:2)

So if we are not self-sufficient, then where do we turn? And what is sufficient? Second Corinthians 12:9 says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”   

Our Weakness

Have you ever been broken? Completely empty. Deflated. Have you come to the realization yet that you are broken? I think it is in that brokenness that we see our true selves and God’s true strength. For me, brokenness has surfaced in the loss of my Dad, financial reliance on God, and moments when I have chosen my own path rather than God’s and have experienced the emptiness that results. The blessing of brokenness is not always apparent during the struggle itself, but I have grown to see these moments of brokenness as beautiful times of richness with God. Barnes writes,
“We usually learn to depend on God when we have to do so. When you’ve got nothing to lose, it’s easier to turn to Him… At the point where God is all you have, He will become all you need.”

Have you experienced brokenness? If not, do you feel coddled by a false sense of security? What is your cover? What do you need to be prepared to leave?

As I prepare to leave for Nicaragua to visit people I have grown to love and for Guatemala to meet the unknown, I am hoping to leave much more. I hope to leave my coverings, my masks, my façade of self-sufficiency and entitlement. I am praying to become humble and to learn to serve as I become more familiar with my deep need for Jesus.

So please pray for me and for yourself and others, that we might experience brokenness and understand what we should be preparing to leave.