the wise and strong shall be shamed, and in that, we will rejoice!

i scan the tiny books brought, searching for the most appropriate ones: the ones they can read, with smaller words, the ones that are relevant to what they can understand, considering their lifestyles.  in the midst of this search, i pick up a tiny book, whimsically illustrated, and after only a few moments, i hurridly shove it to the side, “i definitely cannot take this one”.  the book: “christmas”.  is filled with illustrated pages of children, delightfully going through the motions most of us know as christmas traditions.  the words tell the stories of the happy pictures: children decorating the christmas tree with mommy and daddy.   mommy and daddy wrapping presents.  children baking cookies with mommy and daddy and their smiles fill the pages as they eat the cookies shaped like santa claus, christmas trees, boxed presents, wreaths and bows, etc. the last few pages show pictures of the happy family gathered together by the fireplace with stockings hung, goodies from santa claus peaking out, and them ripping through the gifts under the tree.  how can i possibly bring this book to read to them, to have them read, and then, (with my translator) explain that this, this is christmas in america.  mommies in reindeer sweaters, daddies wearing red and green plaid button ups, with heinous ties (picked out by the children as a gift of course!), girls with tightly curled hair with pretty bows, the boys with mischievous grins on their face, in their neatly fitted red sweaters over tiny green button-ups. presents, so many, most children can’t even recall everything they received. mounds and mounds of trash from empty toy boxes, wrapping paper.  and the food, oh, the food.  a glutton’s paradise.  tables and counters filled with dishes of food, and more food that is kept else where because there is simply not room for it.  joyous singing, caroling, gathering together by the t.v. to watch “it’s wonderful life” for the umpteenth time. i think about where i will be this christmas, compared to where i am now.  these are not just faces any longer to me, they are stories, lives, hearts, souls.  i will be in the states for this christmas, and i think about the 8-hour time difference, and how when i settle to watch “it’s a wonderful life” by the fireplace, is just about when they will be waking up. i think about them waking up, and then i think about that morning when the young children i know will be waking up, and the difference.  i think about mostly empty bellies, except for that day, a special day, when they get meat for their meal.  i think about how commonplace it is for a meal to consist of meat where i used to live, and how spectacular it is when they receive it in a meal here. i think about their smiles.  smiles that emerge at the most unlikely of times.  eyes that shine brighter than the stars, just because.  i think about a Jesus that weeps. for them.  i look at tiny hands and i imagine them slipping into His.  i think about his birth, in a manager, with animals-dirty animals, i think about how He had no “home”.  i think about His life, and i think about theirs.  there’s a remarkable resemblance.  john said of Jesus “i am unworthy to even untie the thong of His sandal”.  and i think about my own unworthiness, to be an heir, to have my heart called His home, to be a temple of His presence, even at the typing of that, surely it should be blasphemy--me, a temple for His dwelling.  that’d be somewhat an equal of a pay-by-the-hour flea bag hotel proclaiming itself to be the rest place of choice for the royal family.  surely i should go back and strike that sentence, delete it out--but i will leave it. because chances are, you are the same.  you are a temple for His dwelling, and i want you to feel the magnitude of grace that that statement means, the implications of it all. surely i am so unworthy to serve and love those whose treasures He is storing up more greatly in heaven than even the treasures the most wealthy person on earth has now.  i think about all this, from a christmas book.  that shows everything of christmas in america tradition, and nothing of the meaning of Christmas.  i think of the closeness, the resting of the Holy Spirit that must be upon them, that must hover over this place, on a day that marks the birth of our Savior, in a stable, in a manager, no home, no feast--because their Christmas day here looks much more like that than ours does. 

i continually think about our charge: james 1:27 “....to visit widows and orphans in their distress”

and i think about:

1 john 3:17: “but whoever has the world’s good and beholds his brother in need and closes his heat against him, how does the love of God abide in him?  little children, let us not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and truth”

when you feel you have nothing to give: give a smile--it may be God’s way of telling that person everything’s going to be okay.  only have a dollar? give it to the salvation army bucket, and then read mark 12:41-44. 

never question how God can use you, or how such a simple task can be God-moved.  His ways are higher than our own and he uses the foolish things to shame the wise and the weak to shame the strong (1 corinithians 1:27)

despite poverty, war, illness, no (biological) parents to call your own, joy reigns.  evident in the delight of playing with their "brothers and sisters" by jumping on mattresses.  joy, pure joy. 

the joy in new shoes.  feet that one day will walk on streets of gold. :)

imperfect messengers and a perfect message. He is mighty.

how could it be, that such Holy Words would be permitted to pass through such tarnished lips?  His perfect Word, His perfect Message, spoken by a very imperfect messenger.

i will be speaking His Word, delivering a Spirit inspired message to the people that attend the return ministry service on sunday. i see them, and they are anxious to hear.  the children already ask me such incredible questions. some of the adults believe i have answers.  i do not.  all i know is that His ways are higher than my ways.  all i know is that i am imperfect, He is perfect, and is doing a great work in all of us.

i do not know why they are hungry for food now, and a month ago, i was not, as i was living comfortably in the states.  i do not know why their children die needlessly, and the children i knew in america did not. i do know though, that one day, the clouds will be rolled back, a great clap of thunder will sound, He will descend, "Lord of lords, King of kings" written down His thigh, sword coming from His mouth, angels sounding trumpets, Him dressed in white: ready to do battle, ready to defeat death, finality sin, and call us back with Him.  we will all depart, be perfected, and gaze at His presence. we will all stand/kneel/fall in His presence, we will shout, "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty" or simply "Holy, Holy, Holy" because no other words could possibly suffice. our once stained feet will stand on His Holy Ground.  our stained eyes, that have witnessed atrocities, that have witnessed needless death, that have witnessed suffering, that have witnessed sin will gaze upon His Glory.

when they ask me: "where is God? amidst this suffering"  i can only respond, He left the cross to prepare a place for you. for me.  there is a matchless Glory that we have yet to see.  even the most comfortable life is but filthy rags in comparison to what He is preparing. i do not have the answers.  the only answer is His ways are higher than our ways.  the only answer is: Jesus.  the only answer is: wait for His glory.

His Glory.  how can we even utter that?  how can i even type that?  i think of this in my mind, but i know what i can think is feeble compared to the matchless mightiness of this. i say that word "Glory" but i cannot fathom what it actually is.  i can say "Holy" but i cannot fathom what that actually is.  i only know that His Holiness is so powerful not even the seraphims could leave their feet uncovered or eyes open to be in It's presence.

i will bring a message on sunday.  i will tell them that we have physical hunger so that we may  now what it is to hunger for God, that we have thirst so that we may know what it is for our souls to thirst for His Word.  i will talk about david and jeremiah.  i will beg them to take their physical hunger and understand that hunger also exist for God.  i will beg them to understand that they desperation they feel when their child is sick, the desperation to see them healed-that same desperation should be there for their souls to be redeemed, to be written, to be known by the Father that will not leave them.  i will tell them of a Bridegroom that will never leave them, and the lonliness they feel, that is their soul weeping for Him.

there is a great injustice we see: hunger, thirst, starvation, death, desperation; but, God did not do that, satan did.  we did it.  sin did it.  we cling to what is Good, abhor what is evil.  there is a day coming, a day of reckoning.  the day the skies open, and He descends.  no more hunger, death, fear, loneliness, desperation.

what does love look like?  it looks like this:
an embrace.  a promise that one day, he will be in a land flowing with milk and honey.  and she, she will meet her Bridegroom, who loves her so much, He left his Kingly throne, died, naked and beaten on a wooden cross, only to rise and prepare a mansion for her.

what does hope look like?  like a pair of silly glasses made from fuzzy pipe cleaners, and a group of people who flew half way across the world to say, "you are beautiful, and loved".  it is a smile amidst hunger, disease, and having to grow up way too soon.









pray. encourage. send. love. there are hands to be held, tears to be wiped, babies to hold and feed.  heads to have hands placed on them and Truth spoken/prayed over them.
what good does visiting do?  it tells them of a value they have.  how Christ would leave His throne for them.  how we would leave our comfort for them. it teaches us to: that same message.
it is speaking Life into a dark place.  even a small flicker of light drives out darkness.  but a tiny flame, in a dark room, brings much light.  be that flame. be that light.

--i am still raising money for return ministries to purchase a land on that they can change their community with. build a house for the children.  build a church center.  empower and equip.  there is a vision, please be a part of it.  the land cost $150,000 and the buildings will be about the same, but right now, we just need to secure that land!  be a part in providing a hope, a future, a reclamation, an ability to become self-sustaining.

a story: david is 16.  he is one of the children that are part of return ministries. we recently talked about the story of the prodigal son with the older ones, with honesty in the telling of the harlots/prostitutes.
fast forward a few days later (yesterday) and all the younger children and older children are watching "veggie tales: the wizard of has" (a child friendly telling of the prodigal son--it's veggie tales after all!).  when the son character left home an arrived in has, he was greeted by little green peas (munchkin men--get it, take from wizard of oz! :) )....anyway, at this point, david looked at me with all seriousness, and asked, "are those the prostitutes".  i looked at him again for a second, and i said, "hm?" to make sure i understood him, he restated "are those the prostitutes?  the story?" i laughed and explained to him there would be no prostitutes in this cartoon....it's made for young children, so they change it a little bit....he laughed.  :)

love. give. change! empower!