Love...

When we say we "love" God, do we really mean it? Is it a real love? Do we even know what we're saying? Do we understand the statement we're making, that we "love" the infinite God of the universe. The one who knew us before we were even formed. Do we understand a love that absolutely crazy?

I think the answer to that question is not how much do I love God, for yes, of course I do, did you see how much I gave up for him? But the exact opposite, do I know how much HE "loves" me?

I think it's probably the normal thing to do when faced with trying to love the most amazing and loving person in the world... How could they love me? How could they see everything I've done and still say, I love you and want to be with you. I don't care that you have screwed up fifteen million times and will continue to screw up for the rest of your life, I love you. You are mine. You are loved. You don't have to perform. You don't have to meet a quota. You don't have to have all the answers. You don't have to have all the questions... Will you let me love you? Will you let my unconditional love wash over your life? Will you allow me to woo you? Will you allow me to love you?

Can we even understand that? Often, in my feeble mind I am not able to understand that God loves me for me. But my heart... oh my heart often has this encounter with God where I just lose it. I was driving down the road earlier tonight and the song, "How He Loves Us" came on and I just wept...

I can't explain this love.

I hope to share it with the world though.

Am I Different?

I have been in a place lately of anything and everything completely breaking my heart for the lost and broken... My heart literally hurts most days, and sometimes for an extended period of time. I have gone back and forth on who God is. What's his character when it comes to the heart. How does he view my passions and desires? They are to feed the poor and bring hope and joy to the hopeless and the broken. Where is this place that needs the most love? Honestly, probably everywhere in it's own ways...
Is the prostitute in Thailand any different than the prostitute on the corner in Vegas? We could look at it this way and say yes; the prostitute half way around the world has no other option, she can support her family with this. While the prostitute in Vegas, she has other options, she is just supporting a desperate need for heroin to hit her veins.

Am I any different?

Am I better than either of these girls?

Am I more deserving of love because I have been rescued?

I would say that they are both more deserving than myself. It is the sick who need a doctor... I have my problems, but i'm too prideful to even see them. My eyes have been opened, yet I do not allow myself to see. I put a blind fold over my eyes. I cover my ears. I stop the flow of life to and from my heart... If I do not love them, than I do not love Jesus. How can I say that I love Jesus with all of my heart and not give everything that I have to those he cared for most. Even more painful than the thought of hurting Jesus, is the actual, physical pain felt when God has given me just a glimpse of what true pain feels like...

May I be your vessel of love. Will you send laborers into the painful, bloody, screwed up, broken, shattered, lovely, smiling, dancing, searching, harvest...

May I be your vessel of love.

Here am I. Send me.

hope...

I find that hope is one of the hardest things to grab a hold of and even harder to hang on to. In an instant the joy and peace which was so strong can be gone. I can find myself driven to a place of despair, completely unaware of how I got there. I was reading the book of Job this morning and in chapter 42 vs. 5 Job says, My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.

Whatever I have to go through to see you with my eyes and not just hear of you with my ears, I will do it. I want to see Him, not just hear of him. I will hold on to the truth of who I know you are and not how I feel... you are God, and I am not.

food

When you look into the eyes of a starving child who has just been given a little bit of food, you can see that it meant so much.

dancer

She loved to dance. She was beautiful...

resistance

This trench was dug to be the foundation for a wall, not to keep people out, but to divert the rushing flood waters coming down from the mountain. This clinic was located at the base of a mountain which sends flood waters streaming down towards the city, buildings, and tents. We weren't able to finish the project because the government came in and said that we didn't have the permits to build the wall... people's homes were being washed away by raging water and the government who is normally not concerned with anything stopped our work because we didn't have the permits.

I hope it is finished.

mark

Out of nowhere one day walking back to the base from the clinic in St. Marc, this English speaking Haitian man named Mark called out to me. We began a conversation which lasted only a few minutes that first day, but our friendship continued on for the next few days before I left. He was a very gentle and kind man who only asked for friendship and a daily conversation.