Saturday, April 28, 2012

What if I believed what I believe?

What if I believed what I believed?

First off, I know, I know. I haven't updated this blog in forever and a day. And now I am jumping back in, over six months later. I am going to "try" to be better at this blogging thing. I might hit you in the next couple days with a bunch of crazy blog updates. Better late than never? ;)

One thing that God has been showing me and hitting me with lately, is taking him at His Word. Challenging me. Streaching me. Molding me. Pruning me. Breaking me. Building me. Things I find myself worrying about, or stressing on. I hear that still soft voice whisper to my soul "If you really believe this life is fleeting and eternity awaits, does this really matter?"
When I landed in Kigali for my second trip (If you dont know me, yep I went back for a second trip to Rwanda!) My first surprising thought was "WHAT IN THE WORLD AM I DOING?"

 Let me explain. I spent two days at Noel orphanage back in August. I met some kids, who I just fell in love with. I developed some relationships with some kids and teens. And as they told me "I will never forget you." I think little did they or I know, how I would think of them, pray for them, cry for them, fight for them in prayer. Little did we know how their faces would be ever present in my mind. Little did I know, how hard I would fight for them at the throne of God, in the middle of the night. How I would ache to be with them when they faced uncertainty. I had no idea when I told them in return how I would not forget them either. How true that statement would become. I haven't forgotten any of the kids on that trip in August that I fell in love with. But for certain kids, I had no idea how often their names would be on my lips at the mercy seat of Christ. And that was just spending TWO days with them.

So as I landed I thought "WHAT IN THE WORLD AM I DOING!? I was at Noel for two days this summer and it changed my life, and my heart has not recovered from that yet. What condition will my heart find itself in after being here for two weeks?

And I report to you, that the small pieces of my shattered heart where further shattered, and now reside with more kids, teens, and young adults since this trip. Yet my feet remain here on American soil. What a conundrum, indeed. (more on that later!)

So, as that still small voice interupts my life, it continues to do so. In all the most amazing ways as it always has. And God reminded me "This life is fleeting. I sent my son because I am love. And love sent him to a cross. Why would you think I would allow your life to be anything but comfortable."

So I have started to throw the idea of security and comfortableness out the window. And along with throwing comfortabless and security out the window. I have found myself tossing a few other things out the window with it. Those things include...

My plans
My hopes
My time
My schedule
My words
and largely......
My heart.

It is in its right condition. It is shattered. On my first trip last summer. Friends knowing that I was traveling to third world countries. That I would encounter need, pain, dire situations, hunger on so many levels, and everything else, constantly asked me how I would be after this trip. Constantly wondering how I would preserve my heart. How I would guard my heart. How I would keep it intact. Making sure I would be Okay after this trip.

But one friend who is a missionary to refugee's in Austria. He did not worry about how I would preserve my heart. And as he was here at the time before my trip, he challenged me, and questioned me in a way no one else did. He told me "You cannot do this without a broken heart. Let your heart break and shatter when you are there." No preservation in that at all!!!

And indeed, God broke it in ways I never expected. Then months later from my trip in August. I continued to break and shatter. My heart had not recovered and I did not want it too. He commented on that and said "Love flows more freely from a broken heart." And in my minds eye, God showed me two clay pots. One in which was beautiful, in tact, and had no cracks. It held its love inside of it. And indeed the work to go into it to retrieve that love. Then he showed me a broken pot, ridden with dirt, and cracks. And the love in which God poured into that clay pot, flowed ever so freely.

So I have come to the conclusion, that when I stand before God. I want to be completely spent, poured out, and broken. Because if I believe what I say I believe. I cannot find myself in His presence and preserved and in tact.

Tina

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