i wanna feed the hungry children

"... and reach across the farthest land.  And tell the broken there is healing, and mercy in the Father's hands."  --Britt Nicole, Set the World on Fire

Well.  How else do I say this. I think I know where I'm meant to serve.

Kenya.

As crazy as it may seem, God just gave it to me.  First it came up in a book I was reading.  Eli and Katie headed off to Kenya together in "Coming Attractions" by Robin Jones Gunn.  Then my mom brought me home an article about a major leader in Kenya tweeting to people in surrounding villages.  Then I saw this poster on onedaywithoutshoes.com...

I was like, "Okay, God.  You trying to tell me something here?"  And I really think He was.  Well, is.  So I've started researching. The statistics are horrifying to say the least, but I honestly cannot wait to get over there and just hold kids.  Is that weird?  I suppose not. But I've got two more years of high school left until I can, so the least I can do is learn about what's going on.

8 percent of the adult population in Kenya are infected with HIV-AIDS, leaving 1.2 million kids who have lost one or both parents. When this happens, many kids end up in the streets, exposing them to violence, crimes, drugs-- sights they shouldn't have to see. Others end up staying home to take care of sick family members, look after their younger siblings, or work to provide for them.  If they do have the opportunity to attend school, most of them are denied it because their family can't afford to send all of the children.

The physical needs are the obvious ones, but these children have been left with emotional wounds that need healing, too.  I'm definitely not qualified for the job, but I'm willing.  I saw this quote on Pintrest once that said something like, "God doesn't call the qualified-- He qualifies the called."  Then there's the 116 Clique song that always comes to my head-- "Send me, I'll go! Lemme go, lemme go!"

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying:
Who should I send?
Who will go for Us?
I said:

Here I am.  Send Me.  [Isaiah 6:8 HCSB]

I'm getting tired of going through the motions.  The mundane day-to-day tasks.  Empty religion.  I'm ready to follow God wherever He takes me.  If it's Kenya, so be it.  If I never have a husband or kids to call mine, so be it. I want a genuine relationship with Jesus like the one James talks about.

Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.  [James 1:27 NLT]

I cannot wait.

all you need is love

Valentine's Day.  Oh how the singulars dread it.  Though they despise the day and the starry-eyed couples, they dream of a guy knocking on their door, bearing red roses and divine chocolates with mousse in the middle.  Or something equally elegant.  But instead, they're alone, left with their bowl of cookie dough ice cream and tear stains on their cheeks from watching The Notebook.

I'm a singular (my term for a single person haha ;)).  I've never had a boyfriend in my life.  16 Valentine's Days have passed, and I've survived each and every one without shedding a tear.  I've never had a secret admirer leave me flowers or a handsome gentleman buy me anything.  It's been me, myself, and I for as long as I can remember.

So many people feel the need to have a 'significant other' around this holiday, but I don't think that's the only kind of love Valentine's Day is about.

Now I'm not saying you shouldn't enjoy Valentine's if you do have a significant other.  By all means, be all smiles and giggles and sweet stuff like that!  But for those of you who don't--

Why not love on people that really need it?  There are so many people who walk through life without ever knowing what it truly means to be loved.  Maybe it's an outcast at your school.  A homeless person on the side of the road.  A child overseas.

So this Valentine's Day, I encourage all you singulars (and non-singulars!) to just love on people.  Help someone out with their homework.  Give out candy to random strangers.  Share a verse with your best friend.  Or your blog readers.. ;)

If I could speak all the languages of the earth and of angels, but didn't love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging symbol.  If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God's secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn't love others, I would be nothing.  If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn't love others, I would have gained nothing. --1 Corinthians 13:1-3

Love on people, guys.  Tell them about the True Love and how He gave Himself.  If you don't, what's any of this worth?

Nothing.

"The best thing to hold on to in life is each other."  --Audrey Hepburn

forever alone?

I was in creative writing, undisturbed silence yet to be broken.  Casually scrolling down my Pintrest homepage when... LAUGHTER. And not the little "hehehe" kind of laugh.  It was more like "AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"  Then, as to be expected, everyone turned to me and asked the obvious question: What's so funny?  I motioned to the picture above through my loud guffaws.  A few giggled, some smiled, but no one genuinely laughed like I did. Then I realized why.  I could relate.

If someone asked me my greatest fear, it'd probably be ending up alone.  No family.  No kids.  Just me and my dog.  All I've ever wanted is a husband and children of my own.  Just the thought of not becoming a wife and mother scares me.  A lot.

Lately I've been asking God what He wants me to do with my life, and I the results have been kind of baffling.

I think He wants me to be an English teacher.

A missionary English teacher.

Not a problem, right?  I'm a writer by nature and my grammar is decent.  I love kids and long to comfort the ones who need to be held.  I could write on the side, just like I'd always hoped.  It's my ideal job.

But what about the house I promised myself I'd build so my kids would always have a place to come back to? What about watching my husband playing with our kids in the front yard through the kitchen window?  What about late-night coffee dates in the living room after the kids are asleep?  What about the life I've dreamed of as long as I can remember?

My heart's sinking to my stomach as I write these words.  It's breaking knowing that the life I've envisioned may never be real. But it's also telling me this is what I should do.  That I should trust God with my future because He knows me better than I know myself. That He loves me and knows exactly where I'll be happiest.

"I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord.  "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  Plans to give you hope and a future."
--Jeremiah 29:11

I want to protest -- I want to yell NO.  I don't want to prove everyone's assumptions right -- that I'll turn out to be the Jesus freaky missionary girl and never get married.  Then He showed me this verse.  Three times.  Three times.  And until this very moment, I wasn't sure why.  But now it's all making sense. 

"The Lord himself will fight for you." --Exodus 14:14

I don't have to defend myself.  He'll fight for me.  He asked me to be a missionary.  And I think I'm ready to say yes. 

pictures via pintrest

stuff... is just stuff.

Christmas.  It's a holiday, generally identified by a jolly man in red suit named Santa Claus.  You make a list of all the things you want and he brings them to you.  America spends billions of dollars on things to stick under the tree. Because happiness comes in cardboard box, right?  I mean, iPhones make people happy.  Clothes make people happy. Stuff makes people happy.

Doesn't it?

I know you've heard that sermon ten times over.  That Jesus is the reason for the season and blah blah blah blah blah. And every time, you ignore it.  Maybe not purposefully and maybe not completely... but you do.  I have.

America spends an average of $450 billion on Christmas each year.  It only takes $2 billion to give everyone around the world clean water.  And yet we still go berserk, filling our carts with stuff we don't need... stuff we don't even want. Not really.

See, we think if we get that one thing, then we'd be happy.

"If I could just have an iPhone..."

"...if I got a pair of Sperry's."

"If I got that camera, I'd have everything I want."

But you wouldn't.  Within the next month you'd want something else.  And after you got that, you'd want another something. The only thing that can make you happy -- really happy -- is that little baby in the manger.  That's right.  Jesus.

Stuff... is just stuff.  I didn't get that for a long time.  I thought that if I had "cool" clothes, I'd be happy.  I thought if I had... I dunno... an iPod, that I'd be happy.  But I wasn't.  I mean, I was glad I received those things, but the happiness that came with them faded.  The smile that pleasing Jesus brings, well, it lasts.  Forever.

So this Christmas, I challenge you to give more and spend less.  To remember that stuff is just stuff.  But that pleasing Jesus lasts. And so does the impact you leave on others.  So give.  Give stuff.  Give Jesus.  Give yourself.

"Give away your life; you'll find life given back, but not merely given back--given back with bonus and blessing. Giving, not getting, is the way. Generosity begets generosity." --Luke 6:38

p.s. I won't be blogging until after New Year's... so Merry Christmas!  May you be filled up with Jesus and be surrounded by those you love and cherish. Eat Christmas cookies, sing Christmas carols, and worship Him.  He's not in the manger anymore, friends :)

it's like this...

You live in this house.  The house is... well... your life.  It has screeching windows, nasty carpet that smells like day-old pizza, uneven stairs you trip up all the time, and a roof that leaks when it rains.  It really needs repairing.

Then you get saved.  And when you do, you're inviting Jesus to come into your house and fix it up.  You wake up one morning and Jesus is working on your awful, screechy windows.  He smiles and says, "Oh, you're up!  I made breakfast."  You sit down at the table and He places a big 'ol stack of pancakes, dripping with Betty Crocker syrup, in front of you.  So you sit there and eat and talk and laugh with Jesus.  It's great.  Then you head off to school and Jesus goes back to working on your windows.

You come home to find your windows in perfect condition.  No screeching, no shattered glass-- just perfect.  You're like, "Wow! Thanks Jesus!"  Same thing happens the next day.  You get up, hang out with Jesus, go to school, and come home to find He replaced your repulsive carpet with shiny hardwood floors that are just right for sock-sliding.  "Hey Jesus!" you say, "I can see my reflection!" and He laughs and says, "No, you see My reflection."  And you say, "Wow, You're right!  Cool!"  Eventually, Jesus restores everything you hated about your house.  Pretty amazing, right?

Well then one day you come home from school and Jesus is about to take a sledge hammer to your favorite wall.  "Jesus!" you yell frantically, "Wait!  I like that wall!"  And Jesus says, "I know.  But I don't.  It's gotta come down."  And so He slings the sledge hammer over His shoulder and knocks a huge hole in the wall.  Ow, you think, This hurts!  I loved that wall!  You wake up the next morning to find a new wall in its place.  You stare at it for a while.  It's different, yeah, but it's actually not all that bad.  In fact, it's way better than the old one.  "Jesus," you say.  "I really like this new wall."  "I know," He says, smiling.  "Me too."

See, when you invite Jesus to come into your house-- your life-- to make a few renovations, He doesn't leave after He's done fixing what you thought needed to be fixed.  He keeps making changes, even if you don't like them at first.  Because in the long run, Jesus knows what's best for you.

Jesus took the sledge hammer to one of my favorite walls this week.  That wall has a picture on it-- a picture of a guy named Zach.  I spent so much time daydreaming about him that I didn't take time to hang out with Jesus.  And Jesus didn't like that. So... He took it down.  I didn't like it at first.  At all.  It took me four days to quit standing in front of the Zach-wall so Jesus wouldn't tear it down. But on Thursday, I finally moved out of His way.  And He swung His sledge hammer and down it went.

But when He put up a new wall-- a new one with His picture on it-- I examined it for a moment and said, "Jesus, I actually kind of like this wall.  A lot!"  He smiled and said, "I like it a lot, too."

"Still, God, you are our Father.  We're the clay and you're our potter: All of us are what you made us."
--Isaiah 64:8

*note: I did not come up with the cool house analogy.  That would be Michael, the cool dude that lead the youth sessions at my church this week. :)