Poured Out [The Filling]

There she stands, her frail body framed by splintered doorposts, her face covered with salty tears. Her body shakes in silent sobs. Life seems to be giving her nothing but sorrow.

Her husband is dead. Her house furnishings have been taken by greedy creditors.
And besides that, now they want her two beloved sons.*

Yet the prophet asks a simple question. Gives simple instructions.

She returns to her home, shuts her door. In her hands she holds the cruse of oil.
It is her last link to hope. And she dares to hope.
She dares to pour. And pour out freely.

And in that one action, a miracle is wrought. A new future is born.

--

Somehow I see my heart in that cruse of oil.
Just enough to start a stream. But not near enough to keep it going.

Yet when I dare to pour, dare to pour out my life freely, a miracle is wrought.
A new future is born. New life springs forth.

In the pouring out, I am filled.

* 2 Kings 4:1-7

Redefining Balance

Balance is something the entire world struggles to maintain. I know I do.
We talk about it. We read about it. We post quotes about it.

My question is, how often do we live it?
And what defines living a truly balanced life?

But why should I write about it again? Go read it here.

Perspective.

It's all how you see it.

And I'm realizing that lately I've been looking from the wrong perspective. 

It's easy to get stressed or frustrated or discouraged when all you see is the here and now.
When schoolbooks and assignments pile high and additional responsibilities add to the mountain.
When it seems like you are just barely making it from one day to another, one week to the next. 

But last night in the quiet of the evening I saw a glimpse of hurting hearts, pleading eyes, thankful smiles.
And I was reminded why I'm here and why I'm doing what I am.

Perspective changes everything.

Asian Aid: Giving Hope Today (video)

Weak Hands, Feeble Knees

It's dark outside. Soft light streams over my shoulders. I love new mornings. My eyes scan the page as I absorb verse after verse.

The guidelines for the race. The provisions for the runner. These things call my attention.

I haven't run a race in a long time. At least an official one.
But I know the exertion, the endurance, the positive morale needed to finish any endeavor.

And I stop to think of races I have participated in or observed. Something disturbs me.
Each runner is only running for himself. 

He has the end goal continually before him. But he has no concern for the other runners.
His only concern is to win.

But we run a race in which all can be winners.
And we have no right to run past those who are weak just because we are stronger.

No right at all.

Instead we are obligated to lift up weary hands and feeble knees. Because we are not in this race for ourselves.
We have a duty to help those that are struggling to run beside us.

It would be a terrible thing to run through those gates of pearl alone.
Lord, give me eyes to see, lips to speak, hands to heal. And them to me today…

Measure of Love

I walk in early morning darkness, dawn barely touching the skyline. Gloved hands covering my ears in an attempt to keep warm. I pray and ponder.

What is it to truly follow the footsteps of One who went before?

I've seen plenty of good weather Christians, those who follow when the path is smooth and easy. But when it turns steep and sharp rocks cover the ground, when the trail turns into a muddy mire, when thorns pierce tender feet, it's easy to turn aside. Because following in His footsteps hurts sometimes. I know. I've been there.

Yet there is no middle ground. 

Either you follow or you don't. 

I think of Joseph. Unconditional following. From a favorite son to a common slave to a trusted servant to a condemned criminal to a prime minister. 

I'm sure he wondered why God was leading him on such a rough pathway, but he chose to trust, chose to love despite the hard lessons taught in this school of adversity. 

"If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me." {Luke 9:23}

You only "come after" one you love or respect. How much you follow depends on how much you love.

The question is,
How much do you love Him?

What Are You Doing Here?

Sometimes you just have those moments. Moments that slap you in the face and demand a reason why.

And you don't have one. 

Or if you do, it's an excuse that doesn't hold water. 

I've been there. Far too recently. Far too often.

The still small Voice whispers when you're finally quiet enough to listen.

"What are you doing here?"

My silence deepens. I have no answer. Because really, I'm the one who got myself into this mess. 

It wasn't His fault. And any defense I attempt to make will just look foolish.

I know why I'm here. Really, I do.

It's just difficult to admit that to Omnipotence. 

Because if I had just claimed Power, things would be different. 

Yet He offers me angel food and angel water. Heaven's fare. 

And I'm nourished. I can listen again. And hear the Voice. Still and small. 

He says, "Go."

And I return to the place where I last saw light, where I last had victory. And go forth to conquer. 

This love, this pursuing, amazes me.

I go.  

Contradictions.

I have to admit, I'm a mercy lover.

On the flip side, however, I believe in justice. Justice for the falsely accused. Justice for the underdog. Justice for those deprived of justice.

I guess that's still my soft heart.

But is mercy always kindness?

--

"We want judgment for others and mercy for ourselves," the speaker said. 

I suppose it's the nature of the human heart. We want the line held when others step over the boundaries, but we want lenience shown when we ourselves trespass. 

Two-facedness at best. 

A verse comes to mind that I've been meaning to unravel more deeply for the past nine months. 

"He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?" Micah 6:8



Do justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly.

Aren't these contradictions?

You tell me.

Since when has God required something of us, but that He did not require it of Himself?

Never.

So it must be possible. Period.

--

My mind suddenly latches onto the secret.
It's when we are walking humbly at His side that we are able to live justice and mercy combined.

It's all a matter of perspective—perspective in regard to the longterm benefit of others.

Since when has God required something of us, but that He did not require it of Himself?

It's a Mystery to Me…

Wispy clouds sail past my window as I watch my home of three months fade away. Palm trees wave their gentle farewell while the shimmer of tropical summer reflects the heat along with all its side-affects that has kept me close company recently. Crazy traffic-crowded streets indicate a country where every driver is a law unto his own. Trash-covered roadsides, vibrant green mountains, people who have melted their way into my heart—it is all indelibly engraved upon memory’s hallways, paint still fresh. Shortly my mind is ensconced by cloud trails to match those outside. It's a mystery to me…

I walk at a brisk pace towards the immigration hall lugging my partially incapacitated suitcase behind me while endeavoring to maintain intestinal peace. My eaves dropping capabilities have majorly improved since I first encountered this airport in January. I laugh later as I bump into someone and catch myself automatically responding with perdón or permiso despite the fact I’m now surrounded by English speakers. Other curious habits cause me to smile. Has this language, this culture, really become so much a part of me in so short a time? My mind is still whirling. It's a mystery to me…

It’s my last flight. The flickering lights of city night-life hold me captivated. They always have. Soon the view out my window evolves into complete blackness. I try to see the stars while attempting to avoid the draft coming from the exit row window. I’ve never been known to sleep easily on planes, yet at least I have an empty seat beside me this time. I curl up as comfortably as possible, heavy eyelids descending slowly. True to history, sleep eludes me while once again the inner recesses of my brain step into high gear. It’s a mystery to me…

My eyes cast a bleary gaze around my room. I'm frozen, standing in tired delirium at the doorway despite the fact that it is two o'clock in the morning and I'm incredibly sleep deprived. This room, this house, this country. How could I have become so comfortable as to count them normal? It's a mystery to me…

This enigma, this mystery has fastened its iron-fisted grip upon my heart. And in the silence of quiet morning broken only by occasional flame crackles, I find an answer.

It’s not the poverty, the necessity or even the simplicity of life, it's the contentment. 

These people accept their surroundings and day-to-day realities with a smile. They are satisfied to continue making tortillas and cultivating coffee on the mountainsides like their grandparents. 

If perfect contentment to accept with joy every situation God places in my life can make even a full life simple, that is true living. I can still dream, but I am satisfied that where He has me right now is the absolutely most beautiful place in the world to be.

It is no mystery…

Fun at the river…

Lettuce harvesting day!

Lost… :)

A weekend at the coast…

A friend in the nearby little mountain village of Cero del Torro

Promoting lettuce in San Pedro Sula

Now these are lemons!

Friday is craft day—my turn to teach… :)

The verdant garden

A caving adventure…

Mi amigas en el restaurante! 

A first-time mom, younger than myself, who I was privileged to assist through labor and birth

Do You Realize?

I lie on my bed, the sun shining in its brilliant splendor outdoors, yet my eyes closed and curtains drawn indoors. My head pounds like hammer on anvil. Yes, I have plenty of time to think today. Plenty of time to be still…

Sometimes God gives me the gift of a different solution to my questions than I intended. Yet beneath my thin sheet, mask and earplugs, I am smiling. I am counting my blessings. 

I laugh sometimes at His sense of humor. Perhaps I shouldn't, but if you knew all the circumstance you might just laugh too. :)

It's been three weeks since I landed on this soil. Three weeks to the day. They have come and gone like sand through a sieve. And as I lie in complete consciousness amidst the muted childlike activity beyond my open window, I can't help but review them. 

Humid mornings attending preschool. Soccer games in black of night. Unexpected hugs at anytime of the day from anyplace on campus. Surprises not to be forgotten. Finger-feeding blended beans and non-sticky rice to one-year-olds. An aching arm from pushing kids on swings over one hundred times some days. The struggle to communicate in a language unfamiliar. A muddy yet exciting hike up the mountain. Honduran noises. (I'm convinced these people must be half deaf). Baleada (among other authentic food) experiments in the kitchen. The early morning bird chorus. Coloring, creating, making activities for the kids. Purchasing school supplies when you don't know what half the things are. A hefty stalk of perhaps 60 medium-sized bananas for a dollar. Continual prayers to show Jesus. Time in La Zona with friends old and new alike. Emails from friends that challenge and encourage me. The realization of my abundance once again. A sick day. The opportunity to simply be here. 

Yes, I'm thankful for all these things and so much more. 

Wiping one tear. Creating one smile. Holding one child. Changing one diaper. Pushing one swing. Hearing "Glesy" dozens of times a day. Doing one thing to bless one person, to touch one life…

Do you realize how blessed you are? There are thousands of children who would prize just your worn pillow as their greatest treasure. There are thousands of children who would do anything for just one bowl of food from your table. There are thousands of children who want nothing more than someone to care. 

Do you realize how much you owe?

Sisters

Camera happy? :)

Just like Migel…

Happiness

Can't get over those eyes…

Little friends

Nicole

This swing is the favorite

Cuteness

Watching

I love Arturo's smile…

Ramon and Yeferson

Joy

Genesis… :)

Jump!

Don't ask… :)

To Be the Revolution…

I lie on my bed, tears trickling down my cheeks, my mind reeling with questions. I feel so ashamed. Ashamed of every fiber of my existence, of what I claim to own. 

I cry. I pray. I ponder. My life, my actions must be in harmony… And I'm finding they don’t go deep enough… I feel ashamed and rightly so. 

Have I been living a lie all this time? 

My flesh denies the thought. Yet I believe it to be partially accurate, for if I was truly living, breathing, absorbing the words I speak, my life would be reflecting Christ more fully than it is today. I need a reset, a hard reset. And that, by God’s grace, I’m going to have. 

Away with a life of mediocrity. In with a life of revolution.

These are the things I want. These are the things I need. These are the things I crave. 

To be the revolution I want to see.