Love Inconvenient

Lately, I have been wrestling with this thought: what will I do when a mother comes to me and says it is inconvenient for her to have this child? What will I do when a teenager walks through my doors, terrified, anxious, and alone?

What is my response to when love is inconvenient?
This morning, as I think about this & dream about a cup of hot chai tea, I can feel Holy Spirit with me.
Love inconvenient? What is this?
And so I begin to explain, as I have verbalized to the air so many times before. Love inconvenient is simply that. When it is inconvenient to love. When it is inconvenient to want the best for someone. When it is out of the way to be patient, kind, or slow to anger.
Slow to anger... I immediately think of an incident from this summer. A co-worker of mine had gotten upset with me because I got stuck at a traffic light and missed them and didn't make a turn with them and then ended up in front of them. She was upset, which granted- that week was extremely stressful, and I heard about it. It would have been so much easier to get upset. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to tell her to chill & cool down. But instead, I practiced love & I apologized. It was inconvenient for me. Because it had me off the rest of the day, yet the Mission Adventures team we were hosting had no idea.
Love inconvenient. I have already been practicing it.

Most people know me as one of two things- complete opposites on top of that. Either the woman who can burn water (haha, totally me!) or the woman who can cook for 100 people by herself (also me). What most people do not know, it that I actually do not like cooking. I would honestly prefer to not eat if it means I do not have to cook. But what is taking up over 6 hours of my work week? Yeah, cooking. It feels more like an inconvenience, yet the people who I have been cooking for have made it so beyond worth it. From K, who comes down three flights of stairs to say hi and thank me for cooking and ask me questions about me life to M who tells me repeatedly that I am a blessing to the house. Then there is N who literally remains me so much of a friend from Texas that I have a hard time separating the two. And even though A does not eat my food, he comes in a spars words with me and we totally have a little brother big sister relationship going on and I love it. This is my community for a few nights a week. And it is beautiful in it's mess and chaos and country music. It is original in the many nations I interact with just through that one kitchen. And it is mine. I would not have chosen it. In fact, I would have chosen to run from it. Holy Spirit led me. After months of crying out for community, He has given me this one for a few months. And I could not be more pleased.
Granted, this step of obedience was hard; I want to be one who always obeys. And honestly, this step of obedience was hard. Cooking is an easy way to love on this community, but for me there are more cons than pros.. Yet here I am.

I just finished studying the book of Ruth. Her's was a story of love inconvenient. Yeah, she loved Naomi. I have no doubt of that. And yet, I wonder- how convenient was it for her to leave her father and mother, her beloved country and travel to Naomi's homeland? If she was like any normal human than it was not that easy. She probably had days of crying and anxiety. She more than likely had days of being sore and in pain from gleaning- a work she had not had to do to get so little. She had days of thinking "when my husband was alive" or "when we lived in Moab we had..." Ruth was a human as you and I and she chose to love. Love Naomi- who had become hard and bitter. Who probably wept herself to sleep in the next pallet over for months on end. Who would fight her to eat supper because she "was not hungry" but really she had no desire to live. Ruth chose to love even though it was not convenient to her.

So now, I am back to my original question- what am I going to do when this is in my face? When a mother's heart is not something I can change. When a family says "one more mouth will put us out in the streets". Or when a teenager says "I could go to university, but not with a child". Or, or, or. There  are thousands of reasons, thousands of ways love would be more inconvenient than convenient. And there will always be reasons as long as someone (or multiple people) feel backed into a corner.

But I want to be like Jesus. I want to look like him. I want to act like him. He would never turn the wounded and hurting away. He would sit and understand their anxiety. He would pray and see their deep pain.

He would do as He did over 2000 years ago- He would love when it was inconvienent . (good thing he doesn't have to die again!) 

A Year Ago - Uganda

How has a year already gone by? The other week, Facebook so lovingly reminded me that a year ago, I was boarding my plane to Arua, Uganda, East Africa. That little bush plane was the last leg of my three day journey. The plane was so small that even I could not stand up fully. 

Red dirt. All I saw was red dirt. And I knew, that red dirt would be staining my feet, my hands, my clothes before too long. Little did I know it would be staining my heart too. 

Arriving at the house I would be staying for the almost two months  would be in Arua, I was exhausted in every aspect a person could be exhausted in. I remember begging God to heal the fear in my heart. To touch the severe place of vulnerability. I had had that feeling of 'I am about to change my life'- I just did not know how much this partnership with Holy Spirit and the Harper family would do just that. 

After finally having conquered jet lag and kicking dehydration in the butt, I was ready to go. My one student that I had come for I had yet to see and truly interact with, and my one student had become five. My one subject had grown to all of them, but it was all good because I was growing and I loved watching them succeed. Baylie and I finally began with Algebra 1. Chapter 3. Man, math had never been so... challenging. But as difficult as it was for Baylie, she conquered. She freakin' conquered that book. Algebra 1 complete by the time I began my own school. Now she does Algebra by herself. It was not me though. It definitely was not me. That girl is gonna conquer mountains. Shoot down giants in the land. Because she has the guts and the tenacity to keep going. I learned a lot from her. Like that it is okay to be afraid. As long as we keep looking that fear in the face and keep trying and keep on keeping on. As long as we do not let that fear conquer us, it is so okay to be afraid. And being relational is so good. Relationship across the world is possible. It might mean grumpy mornings because it definitely means late nights. It might mean frustration because you finally get to hear their voice only to hear the Orange or MTN lady tell you that you do not have enough credit to continue your call. I learned so much from her. 

And getting on the bus, having to tell them, "hey, I will see you around." I was doing okay until Levi said he would see me tomorrow. Only everyone minus Levi and Charlie knew they would not. I cried on the bus. The cultural taboo not something I cared about in the moment. I spent the next morning trying to rest as I had not slept on the overnight bus. I did not really sleep then either, but I knew I would be fine. 

That night, Charles and I picked up Mel. And all the prayers and tears for a good friend during this time in my life, would be answered. Only I did not know it just yet. Cause Mel and I, well, we were exhausted. I remember we had to go back into the airport to go to the bathroom before we could leave. I remember barely having enough room for both of our bags. And I remember falling asleep in the car ride asking the Father to let us become the best of friends and thanking Him that we were all safe and sound. 

The next weeks were the best and worst and best of the best. Studying Philemon, that 27 verse book (it is 27 verses, right?) drew me to my knees repeatedly. Philippians still remains a favorite for me. Laughing and running in the field that overlooks Lake Victoria. Playing futól, getting bruises and scars. Tasting freedom and running hard for it. Doing workout circuits while having talks about what we are seeing in the books we are studying. Talking about how we feel God is asking us to apply these things. As I said, Africa left her red fingerprint on my heart. 

Leaving was one of the hardest things, but it was time. It was time to find God's heart and the thing He has created me for.

Summer, Come Back

Why a midwife?

Fact: 380 women die due to complication in pregnancy and childbirth. Every day. That is equivalent of TWO jumbo jets. Every. Day.

Fact: 99% of these deaths happen in the developing world.
This means that those deaths are preventable. And that's an injustice.

Fact: We need more midwives in third world nations, specifically where there is a lot of oppression of women. We need people to fight for life when societies will not. To speak up for people who do not have a voice. To give people adequate healthcare regardless of their social status or gender.


This is the heart of God.
This is the piece of His heart I have recently come in contact with.
This is the place I know I was created for.

Sure, there is fear. Sure, there are nerves. Sure, I have worried and been anxious about things that may never happen.

What are some of these fears and nerves and anxieties?
We will hit the big ones, since I do eventually have to sleep tonight and it would take me too long to actually put into words some of the things in my heart.
A big fear is school money. $4,600 is a lot of money for six months. I know every penny will be well spent, but still, it is a scary amount.
Learning and practicing a new language. What if this is the language that I finally cannot do. I have some pretty big anxiety when it comes to learning a new language. I am rather good at languages, but it takes me awhile to be able to say my english words correctly sometimes- what about in a new language.
I do not look American. For the most part this is a huge plus, but when I want my "American" to work for me, it does not always. For example, if I were to go to the slums to deliver a baby. If I were very obviously American by my looks, it gives me a certain amount of protection. especially as a female. Not looking super American could eventually cause more harm than good.
I am terrified of my first stillborn or baby that passes. I had a couple of close calls already and one is ingrained in my mind. The relief I felt the moment I heard that baby's cry was immense. I went back to the ministry house and cried. And cried. And cried. And that baby survived. I am terrified of what will happen when one does not.
I am rather nervous that I will never stop moving. Never have a home base. Never have a place I come back to and sigh with relief saying 'ah, home'. I am tired or packing up and shifting "home" every few months. It is tiring. It is not fun anymore...

But none of that equates to following God's heart for women. For newborns. For families. Not one of those fears will keep me rooted in my spot and not moving. Not one of those things that make me nervous will keep me from learning all I possibly can. Not one of my cares and anxieties will keep me from advancing up my mountains. From warring with the giants. From being obedient.

From becoming a midwife.

Identity

  The other night, our group had a testimony night. It was simply a night of "hey, this is happening in my life and I want to share with you", no pressure to share, no pressure to cry or laugh or anything. It was a night of bonding, a night of loving, a night of learning how to breathe.
   In the course of the night, I felt like God was asking me to say something so I sat and prayed and asked what He was asking of me. I had begun to feel down on myself and just really not positive at all (which the positivity is not a hard thing for me to not feel, but I have been actively trying). I felt God lead me to our question:
                                               who do You (God) say that I am?
It kinda came in the form of a spoken word- which was more helpful for the night. I thought about doing a vocal recording, but with the trouble I have been having with breathing, I have not felt like that would be a good idea. Disclaimer: I have not worked on it since Thursday night, so it is not complete or necessarily in the order I would say I would want it in. Enjoy.

God,
Who do You say I am?

I am compassion.
I am love.
I am laughter & joy.
I am a holder of victory & one worthy of love.
I am whole.
I am strong.
I am vulnerable.
I am gracious.
I am His.

I am a carrier of justice.
I am a woman of hope
I am a world changer
I am a piece of God's heart & in love with His
I am new
I am soft
I am His

I am competent 
I am adored
I am "somebody" to my Daddy
I am a celebrator of life
I am a griever of death
I am a warrior of God, a soldier for truth and love and justice
I am one with praise on my lips
I am His

I weep
I laugh
I cry
I speak with boldness
I learn
I love

I am tender
I am a life lover
I am hands
I am feet
I am the heart 
of our Father God 

SOFT.

   A few months ago I finished my study of Genesis, I was struck by the faithfulness of God. I had traced the promise of God from Abraham to Isaac to Jacob. I watched His faithfulness as I read their stories & I knew without a single doubt that God will be faithful to me too. And then throughout Exodus, I saw a compassionate, merciful, loving God. And I realized, yet again, that I am viewing myself incorrectly. If God is that way than I should be too...
   And then, Holy Spirit came and asked an earth shattering question:
                      What is so wrong with being soft?
   My first response was 'nothing, Lord' & so then He asked, "What's so wrong with you being soft?" An then there was a crazy long list... After weeks of pondering and mulling over this question, I finally came to a conclusion:
               I want to be soft.
               I want to be soft before God and before man.
               And sure, it is risky.
               But God is worth the risk.
              And I want to take the risk.
What does being soft mean?
   Tenderness and compassion.
   To cry. To weep. To celebrate. To ache. To hold. To give when it hurts. It looks like not turning a blind eye. To pick up a weeping child. To hold a grieving mom. To weep and grieve with her. To show concern for the well-being of another.
    It means letting people see me in my weakness. 
This is hard for me. I panic just thinking about it. Let someone see me in my pain & weakness? But it is high time for me to stop acting like I am superhuman. It is time for me to be human. Humans have emotions, it is the way God created us. Emotions have a purpose, they help us experience life fully. So even though there is panic there is also deep, deep peace.
    Letting people see my heart & soul & trusting them with it.
   It is no secret I have a problem (and pro status) at pushing people away. I get close and then something happens & I feel like I have to throw up all kinds of walls & barriers. But that is not godly. For so long I have felt I had to be hard and calloused to keep my bruised self safe from more hurt and pain. But it just caused more hurt and pain, for me and for others. And trust. It goes hand and hand with assuming the best. I need to trust people are not out to hurt me, they are not around to reject me. They are there to love and accept me. There are there cheering me on & rooting for me & believing in me- convinced I am going places and I am going to succeed! And I still have trouble accepting that as truth, but it is truth. Maybe not for everyone, but for those I know I can trust- it is.
     Soooo. Being soft.
   It is scary, but I fully believe it will be well worth it.
   Because being soft does not equal weakness. In fact, I am beginning to believe that soft equals strength. Soft does not mean no more pain and hurt, but I am convinced soft is showing the heart and hand of God.
    Especially in a hard, callous world. 

Competence

   We have all been there. The place that demands we stare it in the face. The place that says you cannot, in any way be good enough, qualified enough, or capable of doing this. For me, I find this place a lot. I find it in everything I do- teaching, leaning, understanding my worth, making friends. Literally, everywhere.
   I constantly find myself wondering, will I ever be competent? Will I ever feel like I am capable? Like I am approved of?
   And while I appreciate, and even need, people telling me that it is not me but Christ, I need more than that.
    There are times, I feel like Moses. When Moses was in the desert and turned aside to the unconsumed, burning bush and God called Moses to lead the Israelites to freedom. And Moses response- I can't; I'm not ---- enough. I cannot speak well enough. I am not a leader. They do not know me. I do not know you... And his list went on. His list looked at all the things he could not do because he did not feel like he could. He looked at all the places that screamed failure at him- after all, he had already tried to free the Israelites once before. Moses kept looking at himself and seeing where someone else would measure up and do better. He looked and tried to make God see his point. And Paul. I am sure there are times he felt the same way. God, I cannot. I am a murderer. I am a torturer, a persecutor of the innocent- you cannot be calling me. It probably was dealt with in all that time he studied under Holy Spirit- the 14 years in between his conversion and the beginning of his missionary journeys.
    I cannot.
    But why? Why can't I? It certainly is not because Holy Spirit does not live and dwell in me. It certainly is not because I cannot open my mouth and speak, or teach, or whatever. It certainly is not because I am stupid or unintelligent. Or because I do not have good time management. If it is not that, then what is it?
    Fear is crippling. It is one of those things that I wish could be removed with a surgery or procedure. One of those things I wish could just be renounced and then done with for forever.
    See, my fear does not just stop with me. My fear says that other people see me the way I see myself- incompetent, a failure, rude, mean, too simple, not fun. Etc. The list can literally go on and on, but I am already in a bad mood, so I am not going to make it any worse by letting you know how I see myself on a really bad day. Thing is- I do not always see myself this way.
    But with going back home, I feel this fear a whole lot more. Change happens to people. I have heard that people cannot change, but I disagree. A lot. People can change, not only that, but I have changed. Changed so much that I look at the person I was last year, last month and I wonder who that person is, why they did some of the things she did. I think that plays a part too- not knowing who I am deep down.
     My understanding of self- worth has changed. My understanding of what "soft" means has changed. My thoughts on all women have to be x,y, z no longer exist and no longer make me feel like a failure as a woman.
     Yet still sometimes the nagging thought comes: they don't think you can. You know you cannot do that. You cannot do that because they will think---.
      And while I still have a ways to go in understanding how I can do the things God has called me to- after all, it is not me but Him in me, I find I am rather content knowing that I do not have to prove myself to my Father. That the things He has called me to do are things that He has made me to do. That He does not set me up for failure, but rather the greatest successes. And while that may not make me competent and able to do everything, it makes me sane. 

Seeking Truth

    I am finishing up Job for my School of Biblical Studies course. I had to write a letter to someone who has experienced injustice. As my heart is for women and children at risk I, at first, could not figure out how to write what I wanted. But as I was journaling and trying to get all my other thoughts out of the way I felt my spirit stir in me. I had me recipient. And I want to share it with you, even though it may not be addressed to you, there are truths that apply to all of us.

To the girl who still blames herself:
You have heard it a thousand times- it was not your fault. But you have also heard that it was. That you must have done something to deserve his wrath, his lust. People unknowingly also said these things, using the Bible to prove their point, not knowing they were setting you up for emotional distraught. Forgiveness for all is imperative. Including yourself. Without forgiveness you cannot thrive as you so desire.
Yes, what you went through is unjust, but God was and is and always will be good. And it is the blood of Christ that males you pure and undefiled not how much you "clean up your act" or try to be good and reputable. You have to see God clearly and the only way to truly do so is to spend time with Him, is to know Him deeply and fully. It is here that you will also begin to know yourself. You begin to see yourself the way He does.
These unjust acts were not forced upon you because God is a perverter of justice or because He was angry with you. This world is fallen and people choose evil. That does not make God evil. Not even close. Rather, it shows His love and grace for mankind. He would rather have man choose to love Him than force them to obey Him. How marvelous! How good He is!
Despite everything, and I do mean everything, you are loved and highly valued by the King of kings. You are treasured and held in high esteem. You are the apple of His eye. The delight of His heart. He is called Father, yet He is also the passionate, fierce Lover of your soul. Dear girl, He desires you more than you could ever know or comprehend.
Keep pursuing His heart. Keep growing and changing. Keep breaking mindsets that say He is not good or He is not loving.
It is a discipline to endure.
All my love,
M

Jesus in Labour and Delivery

    Before I came to Siguatepeque, Honduras I had never seen a birth. I had never truly understood the empowerment needed for a woman to give birth. I had not truly become aware of the need of a midwife.
    Coming in, I knew the Lord had said my ministry is to be holistic family. I thought it kind of funny He suggested I study to be a midwife and begin at the birth of a new family member. Me, the woman who often refused a babe, a midwife?
    My first shift at the birthing clinic my incompetence and unfamiliarity held me back. I kept praying for confidence without really believing it would come. The thought of incompetence kept coming and overwhelming me.
    Finally, our first girl, G, was ready to give birth. The doctor ruptured her membranes and two pushes later (TWO!!)at 10.27 am, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. I chose to follow him into the nursery. (It is actually not a nursery, but it is the closest I can get to describing it.) I watched the nursing student as he passively, slightly roughly handled the newborn.
    I felt Holy Spirit wave over me. "M, here is where I want you to change this. When it is you- I want you to pray. Proclaim destiny. Love. Declare truth. Let me be the breath of life." I smiled softly- that I was definitely capable of.
    My next birth I was more hands on. It was the same day, same hour even that G had given birth. N was more open to us. She and I walked and swayed. We used breathing techniques and moaning. I applied counter pressure to her hips. I watched as her fears abated. During her birth, I chose to stand by her side, holding her hand, smiling (because it is me after all) encouraging her on. At 2 PM, on the dot, she too gave birth to a baby boy.
    Weeks have passed since that first day. My roommate/ the other intern, N, and I have grown in confidence- so much so, she and I have been at Centro de Salud by ourselves. I have watched and prayed. I have been pooped on and bled on. I have encouraged and empowered. I have called on God and felt his presence bring peace and comfort.
     I have also been so angry. So incredibly angry. Some of the doctors and nurses do not know how to talk to a laboring woman. They mock and downtick her. They scare her. They make her feel stupid. It grates me. It agitates me like crazy.
     Last week, I worked with a girl who was having crazy labour pains. She felt the need to push long before she was fully dilated. It was tough hearing her call out and watching her in pain, but we made it through. By the time she was in the stirrups (the only way she is allowed to give birth at the Centro) , she was slightly worn out. N had gone with her and was standing at her right shoulder. The nurse working the birth was encouraging as the mother to be pushed, waiting through the pause in contractions. She acted like she had all the time in the world. Then a doctor came. She is a new face around the clinic (a contract doctor) and not my favorite. The doctor never asked any questions, just came in, and when the contraction came, began to push on the baby. Pushing, pushing, pushing. At first, with the mother, then G could not keep up. G looked at me, pain clouding her eyes, trying to breathe. Watching her struggle to breath really got me. Her baby, a boy, was covered in meconium. I am convinced being pumped out of his mother's womb put him in distress.
       I ventured on my way back to the ministry house. Beyond agitated. So upset I was sure I would begin to cry. Compassion is not my strength and it was evident as I verbally processed my thoughts and feelings about the doctor that day. My need for justice and right was high. Most of it focused toward that particular doctor.
     I ate lunch by myself. Venting to God, trying to find peace, asking for His help to... not feel. My spirit finally began to quiet.
     Love is patient.
     Love is kind.
    It keeps no record of wrongs.
    I sighed deeply; But Lord...
   And very clearly, Holy Spirit said: "M, love is patient. She [the doctor] has to learn love and compassion for these women, but you need to learn patience and kindness toward her as she learns. Your year of learning love is about everybody- not just the people you like..." He went on about love, how to apply it, what it should truly look like. By the end of my meal, I had a deep conviction: love these men and women with the love of God. No matter my feelings.
    Now just to live it out.

Esperanza. Hope.

"Find the old road to La Esperanza; go five blocks, take a left. It's the house in front of the yellow house."
      There are no markings. No way of knowing if we are in the correct part of the outskirts of downtown. We had tried to find this house for about 20 minutes already. We went up a steep, rocky hill, shifting the car into third gear, counted the nonexistent blocks and pulled in front of a yellow house.
       False hope.
      So we try again. We count. We come to what is, technically, block four and stop. We can see a yellow house, but the question is: is this the right one?
      We climb out, four women and a baby. We exchange greetings and then file into the house. We are doing a post- birth visit. Checking on mother and baby. The young, first-time mother cannot be more than fifteen. She appears uninterested in us. Uninterested in her baby.
      I stand and listen, doing my best to follow the conversation in another language. All the while praying. The new mother looks uncertain. The other girl training to be a doula and I remain silent- letting those with experience speak. I watch the new mother hesitantly take her son to her breast to feed.
     It is asked if we could pray for her and later I am given the honor.
     I pray Holy Spirit fills her heart with love for Him. I pray he floods the room she lives in. I pray she loves and cares for her little son more than she loves and cares for herself. I pray, more than anything, she finds the love of the Father.

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   The value place on education is so incredibly low here in Honduras. A child, by law, is only required to complete the sixth grade.
    What happens after that?
     For the girls- making tortillas, beans and rice at home day after day.
     For the boys- they go and find work; hopefully.
     And for most, sex.
     Honduras has the highest population of teenage pregnancies in all of Latin America. It is daunting and saddening. In my SBS studies, I am in Genesis (FINALLY the Old Testament) and I look at the promise God gave to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The promise he continued on to Joseph and David and Mary.
     The promise he fulfilled.
     He is the same God who has spoken to the ministry I am partnering with while I am here. Honduras will be changed. They will see God.
     This is the promise I have joined in on holding onto.
     It is the promise of hope.

LOVE.

   Dear John the Beloved,
I am not a fan of your writing. I do not like the way you just talk in circles- in fact, it frustrates me greatly. The amount of times you repeat a word is, frankly, unnecessary. Despite my reserve for your gospel, letters, and apocalyptic narrative, I have and am still learning much from you.
As I journeyed through your gospel I really saw that Jesus is the personification of love.

 At the beginning of the year, I prayed and asked Holy Spirit to show me what 2016 will be about. One of the things he said was that this year was to be a year of learning love. It's startled me. It also frightened me. How is it that I can go out into the world and love people that I don't even know, and yet God is telling me that this will be a year of me learning love? Through this book, I have seen how much I lack in love. People often tell me that I love well, that I love with all of my heart, that I love with everything I am. And to some extent, I know this must be true because when I leave a place I know I am leaving a piece of my heart.

Jesus gives the disciples a new commandment. The commandment is to love one another.  Sometimes I view love as whimsical and ludicrous, as something of the fairytales I read as a child and can still find in adult fiction. But that is not what love is. Love is power beyond anything else. It is the ability to see into the future, know the pain and still go through it anyway. Or, in missions, the ability to give it all to a child you know is dying, or being trafficked, or was ripped from their parents; love is the thing that heals and bleeds and breaks. It is the thing that let us rejoice when it is time to rejoice and weep without control for a friend sitting right next to us. That is not the stuff of fairytales, but the stuff of legacy and the life. It is radical. It is what Jesus gave us. Is is what the disciples fell headlong into. It is the thing that when someone looks at the cross they should be able to see without any hesitation, without any wondering, without any bemusement. If love were just a fantasy, or just some pretty idea, then why would Jesus die?

For so long, so many people have seen God as a God of wrath and anger, but that's not who he is. Jesus came into this world to show people that that is certainly not who he is. The sacrifice of Jesus Christ shows us that the Father's ultimate desire is to have a people for himself. To have a people who  can come to him at any time and not worry about a sin they had committed five minutes prior. This is the God that made the world. The Creator who looked and said I want people who have different shapes and sizes and colors and didn't once think that any of them would not be beautiful. This is the God who created Adam and created Eve and made them for each other. This is the God who looked and said "yes you sinned, but I will still take care of you." This is the God I serve. This is the God of love.

As I'm on this journey to learn what love looks like, I often have to remind myself that looks like Jesus. It's kind of sad, in many ways, that I have to remind myself this, but at the same time I look at so many Christians today and I do not see it. I don't want to be one of those Christians. I want to be someone who loves radically. Who will go to the ends of the earth and say this is going to hurt in the end; it is going to take everything I have, but gives it anyway. And in many cases, all that I have to offer is myself. But really, is that not what we all want?  Somebody to listen, somebody to hug, somebody to laugh with and somebody to cry with. Really, is not what we want the simplest form of love?

So John the Beloved, I thank you. (I still think you would benefit from a writing course.) You have propelled me forward on this love adventure.

I look forward to learning more from you.
Grace & peace,
M

Worth

     So I began fundraising last week to join a medical missions team in Honduras for 10-11 weeks. I wrote out my 'hey, would you pray about partnering with me?' letter and prayed and went to begin asking people to join me. And froze. I literally began panicking and it made no sense to me.
     So I prayed. Asked God what was going on.
And very gently he told me that I do not think I am worth investing into. This had been a thought pattern that I have tried to conquer for the longest time, and I have had huge breakthrough in... and now am slipping back into?
     It was pretty disheartening to hear.
     I took out my gratitude journal and began to write. I am grateful I can go. I am grateful for people who send me. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn. I am grateful for the sacrifice of Jesus- something I get to share as I learn. I am grateful... and I just kept writing.
     I needed to take my mind and heart of how discouraged I felt. As I wrote and kept writing, I felt this peace flood over me.
     1 John 4.18 There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and he who fears is not perfected in love.
      Fear. noun. an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat. verb. be afraid of (someone or something) as likely to be dangerous, painful, or threatening.
      Why should I fear something? Why should I fear that I am not worth what I am. I literally have it permanently on my body: worth it. Scrawled behind my right ear. (Maybe one day it will sink into my brain.) My worth is found in Christ alone. He declared me invaluable. He contradicts my feelings in ways that I cannot. He brings truth, always. There is no lie in him.
      So this is me acknowledging my fear. This is me inviting people into my process of discovery of how invaluable a human I am. This is me saying I cannot do it without you...