|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| i still want to be part of the story...
Hey there. =) It has been approximately a year since I've ventured here. Yes, it's been quite the hiatus, I must say--but it hasn't been without a lonesome som on this side. I'm kind of scared to be on here again, and as I told my boyfriend and my sanyo Amber, it's almost as if I 've lost touch of this side of mine--the side that dared to write crazy senseless esoteric-nism such and suchs, the side that vomited all the spoken things I couldn't necessarily speak to human ears. One thing that has still remained--my rambling. I took a journalism class my sophomore year in college and didn't do too hot in it. The reason, I write too much--I'm as far from as concise as anything can be. It's okay. I think I'll stick to the creative writing--if I can do that even too.
Since January many things have happened. Let me just give you a quick update on that...
- I have lost the teen to my age
- I am taken by a wonderful wonderfulness named David Alfred Nguyen since January 27, 2007
- I went to Thailand for 6 weeks of my life and befriended a many girls who make a living selling their bodies, saw some things I wish I never knew has been existence for forever. Let me share if you care to know. It's hard to share with people who don't want to care.
- I entered what is known as the last year of the best of your young life--I shall be graduating this year, and am feeling quite bittersweet about it
- I have a new set of ducklings to mother and learn from--from 4 girls to 10 girls, I am a proud Momma
- I am extremely busy--balancing graduating early, work, internships, bible study leading, and having a boyfriend and old and new friends to not lose touch with
I'm kind of tired. I just realized that I don't even journal in my old pen-paper journal anymore. Sometimes I'm too tired to think about how my day went--and then too tired to write it down. Maybe my disappearance from this attests to that too. (help me! save me from languishing away!)
The other day I was listening to Rich Mullins last works before God took him away---he sings "Jesus" in such a way that even its simple words digs its little hooks and swirls into my heart and likes to hang around in longing.
He sings,
Jesus
Write me into Your story
Whisper it to me
And let me know I'm Yours
Sometimes I question--
Why would Jesus want to write ME into HIS story?? Who am I that could even make a dent into HIS story--HIS claim to Lordship?? He doesn't even need me.
In times when I feel my crappiest that I can't even turn to Him, it's in that shame and scrunched pain that I see glimpses of my own desperateness for Him. I don't turn away cause I don't want Him anymore--it's cuz I want Him too much, I want Him to be proud of me, but so often He cries another tear to the ocean.
I've been learning this about myself (slowly, yet still learning), that when I speak of faith, I don't have much. I'm scared like anything (surprising coming from the girl who used to be so ambitious and risky) to really live out what I want to do.When I share my dreams and get them shot down as being part of "the youngness in age and idealistic" a little part of me dies...and that little girl in me who used to have that untainted heart unbutchered by the world still cries out to live and be part of His story. The big girl has too many responsibilities, practical needs, "wisdom", and "adultness".
I hate it that when you become an "adult" you have to become that adult that makes more than enough to put food on the table, to hold the job that ensures envying nods in your direction. You have to wear adult clothes, you have to settle down and be "real". Whatever happened to dreaming? Whatever happened to striving to reach your full potential and not get bogged down by what's "practical (so I can prepare my retirement fund at age 24)"?? Whatever happened to living as yourself and not fitting a mold of another? No, I'm not saying go starve because you want to have fun the rest of your life--I'm talking about daring to follow Jesus especially when it's non-conventional--daring to risk being "poor" for the gains of being alive. I don't want no 9-5 job, I don't want no suburban house, I don't want no nice corporate job where I can go to business banquets. I don't want a well-paid husband who comes home with a briefcase and sits down at a nice table with warm soup waiting for him, I don't want no nice car, or Godiva chocolates. Don't give me your blahs that I'm living in the world and I HAVE to be practical and financially secure in the corporate world.
Jesus and his apostles were so far from practical and corporate.
He was a freaking homeless.
If the Gospel was re-presented to many people as something "new", not as a two century old type thing, so many would reject it. It's too radical. It says too many things that snatches you away from the claims of the conventional. It's too bold in it's desire for wanting you, and completely you. Not your lip services, passage recitations, and small group. YOU.
I'm still kind of floundering around not knowing what to do. But this I know, and I want it so badly it makes me want to cry. I want to be known. Am I selfish? I don't know. But I want Him to know that I tried, I really tried to follow. Sometimes I take a peek over the narrow way at the other side where there are always butterflies and shiny things (often times I go there too and find rusty things), but I don't think I will ever lose that ambitiousness God has placed in me...to choose a lifestyle conventional people (or the older generation) usually don't embrace.
I still want to be written about in His story. I still want to be His. I'm still trying to make it back from the (rusty things to the right side).
p/s is anyone still on this? here's a new layout to a new start to the xangaziness. enjoy! | | |
| [myblahsandwhyandwaahs. and okayGod. okayGod].
[hang tight, bear with me, it's a long ride]
Your trance of love is seeking
To turn this world around
But in my state of blind confusion
No god can pull me out
I see your love is willing
To turn me inside out
And then I see you there
The lonely tears I cry
I wish they'd release me
It's in despair that I find faith
Summon the night to bow down to day
When ignorance is bliss
Save me from myself
::fade to grey:::jars of clay:
i'm hoping that one day, all this faith talk will make sense. all this will be worth it. [i'm betting my whole entire life on it]. It's slightly strange that within just a couple days my emotions can take me on this crazy roller coaster; one moment i'm screaming my head off in glee, the next moment i'm wanting to crawl into a hole and hide. I've been feeling physically and emotionally tired lately. Physically probably cause I do believe URBANA took a toll on it, and I haven't been sleeping well at all since I got back. Emotionally? I don't know why. It was as if the devil took a hold of me and just shoved anguish, doubt, impatience, fear, inadequacy down my throat and made me wallow in them. Quite frankly, [and I dare to say this] I allowed the devil to have [temporarily] victory over myself..and all this with my knowledge that my failure to fight back was grieving the spirit and overcoming me.
sigh. I know. I know. It makes me feel crappy. ESPECIALLY after so many amazing things have been happening (one of them being URBANA). Don't get me wrong. I am so excited for what God is doing. URBANA, [really, for lack of better words] was A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. At the beginning of the conference I really was struggling with hearing from God. Everyone was saying how "At Urbana, your life is going to be completely changed, you are going to realize your life calling". It was great. But, if I had already said "yes, I'll GO," what about the where, the what, the when? I'd been haunted by waiting on those three Ws for a long time, and I was tired.
One and a half years ago when I had said "yes" to God's burden on me regarding ministry long-term...[overseas?].. everything completely changed. And all this was the summer right before college started. It was such a flurry of changes::anguishing, weeks and weeks of crying and debating with Him ["yes? no!? really? but no, aahh"], but finally...freedom, reconciliation, and holding no regrets--even if God called me to such a life of sacrifices, I was completely satisfied and could not want anything less than that life.
I haven't looked back since. I can't. Part of me will die if I do. When I said "yes" I lost all desire for my current focus, dreams, aspirations at that time: [believe it or not], I wanted to go into biotech or NPB. In high school, where the bio AP classes boasted the highest scores in the country, it was quite an accomplishment to be among the highest. My dad had hopes that at least someone in the family would go into science (He liked science so much he studied biochemistry in college). But I'm no science major now. I gave over to the bleeding hearts of the social science freaks. And it's been good. A lot more "good" than science could ever be for me. Cause what I'm doing now is really me.
I gave up a whole buttload of things when I said "yes": the right to live in the United States, the hopes of a well-to-do family, comfortable house car etc, well-accomplished children, job, the closeness of potential cousins my children will have (something I did not have growing up with everyone being over in Malaysia), the American dream. Ohyah, I was there once. I dreamed big. Until He took it all down. And I didn't want any of that anymore if it was preventing me from being who He created and called me to be.
At Urbana, it was only the end of the third day when I heard anything new from God. Since the time I had said "yes", although I was giving myself over to being okay with uncertainty, I still tried to strategically place God in a box so I could plan this new life of mine. I would graduate in this amount of years, join this mission program specifically with a certain organization, be out in the field in this amount of time. [Yes, it's amazing how patient God has been with my prideful and sinful self] Despite all this planning, I was still feeling so lost. Within the last half year I'd been questioning my identity: who I am, what my skills and talents are. I began to realize that the things I hoped for in missions really didn't make sense to me anymore, and it was frustrating! Although I felt God tugging at me from the very first day to go and have some quiet time with just Him, I waited until the 3rd day, when I was feeling crappy physically and spiritually.
Being still has never felt so torturous and peaceful concurrently. I don't want to be presumptuous yet in sharing that small still voice of God I heard by being silent in wait before Him. But I finally gave over to him my plans for missions, where and when I wanted to go. He tore all my plans down! But it's okay. I have no regrets with having to give those plans up. Cause I did hear some clarity from him. And it was like the peace that transcends all understanding. I could finally worship God in all sincerity the rest of Urbana. It was beautiful. =)
BUT. It's not even been 2 weeks yet since then, and the downs already got to me. I read once that every time we go through a peak with God, we tend to hit a big rut after that as He allows Satan to buffet us with all sorts of things in order to test and strengthen our faith. And even within a day of seeing His power at work, I can wake the next day feeling inadequate and powerless, and yes, whimsical and foolish to think that I can be of any use to God. I'm sorry God for being so weak and faithless!... Moments like these I need to be reminded that He grants to me the same power that He used to raise Jesus from the dead. The SAME power. (eph 1:18-20) I need to be reminded to pack Ephesians with me wherever I go so that I can be put on my spiritual armor and fight against the wiles of the devil and these depressing thoughts I have sometimes.
Remember. There is one more powerful than that which is in the world. I need to remember. and Believe. and Act. Cause that's what faith is right? No matter how blind it can get...
"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For
our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers,
against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and
against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore
put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you
may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything,
to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And
pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and
requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for
all the saints."
-ephesians 6:10-18
| | |
| catching ourselves midsentence when we want to say "laaamme"
the first day i came back up to Davis, i was pleasantly surprised with a plethora of problems. not only was the door UNLOCKED when I entered, but the living room looked a mess, as if someone had ravaged through it. I still don't know why it was unlocked; I'm going to make myself believe that it was the maintenance team that I had come and forgot to lock the door after them (which stilll, in my opinion, is quite scary). The last thing I want is a break-in--I've already been through that before and it is NOT comforting. Not only that, but I got a notice that our apartment water had been shut-off earlier that day and had to be shut-off again the next day (the 1st day of class) from 8-5:30 to finish fixing an underground water leak. When I went upstairs the bathroom floor was flooded; the toilet tank was leaking from the wall and the stagnant water on the linoleum had caused slight warping already. It was not fun ringing out the bath rug. AND, even though I had no laundry to do, there were no laundry machines and dryers to use cause management was replacing all of them at the same time.
Coming home to Davis was quite the exciting welcome. I write this because it's so easy to complain about how lame things can get. The water problem didn't really bother me--I filled up large mixing bowls with water so when my roommates came home we would at least have some water to use. But come to say, the news was not taken as well as we should have taken it. Oh, there were a number of reasons: "Why didn't they do it when we weren't here?" "School's starting tomorrow!" "How am I going to take my shower?" Yes, that's us sometimes. That side of us that is so selfish, so rotten; and it's disheartening how being blessed in America has made us all quite spoiled.
I don't thank God enough for the basic things I have living here. When was the last time I thanked him for available clean water? Or for the fact of the matter, that we always have clean water and don't have to travel miles to carry back home buckets of DIRTY water? That we not only have 1 tap in the house, but 5? That we have toilets and not squatters and holes in the ground? And that the toilets we have have enough pressure strong enough to flush down toilet paper?
Man. It's moments like these that I'm thankful for the not so pleasant things of my homeland Malaysia. Back in the day when my family and I went back to Malaysia sometimes I had to take my shower by pouring a bucket of water over myself. The water was always very lukewarm. And regarding laundry machines? No dryer, there's only the laundry machine. Things have changed since then, but even when I went back to Malaysia last summer I still handwashed my clothes and line-dried them. In America we have a dryer, but we rarely use it. But I am blessed that my family at least has one.
The more and more I attempt to understand those precious ones living in horrible conditions all around the world, particularly SLUMS, I am disheartened by our lack of care and blindness. It hurts to hear of stories about governments, without warning, bulldozing the homes of these people because it is "in the way" of the building of a highway. But most of all, it stuns me of the ethnocentricism we have regarding slum dwellers. Uneducated. Dirty. Unrefined. Ignorant. Eyesore. Hopeless. Unworthy.
This morning at my friend's apartment I randomly opened her Bible to Romans 12. I love Romans, but I haven't read it in a while. It encompasses so many things that URBANA (and ephesians) had talked about. From everything of being one body, to offer myself as a LIVING sacrifice and to TRANSFORM my mind SO that I can KNOW and AFFIRM the will of the Father...Romans gets right down to business.
And since I've been trying to determine how "compassion" looks like towards those in the slums, I read these verses:
"Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves." v. 10.
"Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality." v. 13
"Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited." v. 16
Notice in v. 13 it says "SHARE," not "Give" not "Buy," but "SHARE." When we share, we're sharing with others things that we ourselves would use--the same quality, quantity, etc... Sometimes when I "GIVE," I give selfishly. Often when I give away things, they're things that I don't want anymore, but things that I expect others should be grateful for. At one of the bible studies last quarter, Matt posed the question to the group..."Are we willing even to give up our BEST JACKET to someone else more in need?" ...........
Our best? (i only have 1 jacket!) Preposterous. But so true, so harsh, and so JESUS. I want to know how to SHARE, or to at least--give up something best of mine because the well-being of others is worth just as much as the well-being of myself.
It's sooo hard but I hope that my desire of attempting to repay God for what he has done for ME will become actions by LOVING OTHERS.
Perhaps we can all start by renewing our minds and offering our bodies as living sacrifices. And perhaps, even thanking God for the clean water we have, the clean air we breathe, the roofs over our heads.
| | |
| [i would like some iron and wine and a dog to sit at my feet so they'll stay warm, please]
I honestly don't know what this post is going to be about. I thought i was going to write about coming home and about everything being wonderful and crappy at the same time, or about missing certain things, but definitely not other things. And then I thought about writing something profound about how frustrated and confused and resigned I am about everything with God, life...(or as Point of Grace said when they first came out: "life, love, and other mysteries"). But I'm not. I don't know how much my brain has recovered from school, or if it will ever recover. So, I'm not really going to elaborate on the amazing and difficult things God puts me through, or the latest craze about Christmas shopping, or my disillusionment about society and the war and all crap on earth, or some stupid stories that happened between me, my lili sis, and my buga bro. Sorry. I'll just say this though: God always picks the worst times to show me once again how incredibly sinful and human i am. GAH. (on another hand, don't mind this extreme tangent: the book of Malachi is such a difficult book to read. It's a hard cup to swallow. But it's so AGGHHG. You should read it if you haven't put your finger on the Old Testament beyond the Psalms, Proverbs, and the first chapter of Genesis).
Okay, anyway, so in this post (to distract my mind from other tiring matters):
The Irresistible Revolution is about the most AMAZING BOOK EVER. There are only a few books that have done anything to dramatically change my life...and this is one of them. ("No Compromise: the life story of Keith Green" is a great 'nother one, ask me if you want to read it.) I mean, com'on, what kind of book with the subtitle "living as an ordinary radical" would NOT challenge and change your life?! This book ruined me. It broke me. Half the time I was reading it I was laughing so uncontrollably (not a good thing when you're sitting in a lecture and ..uhm..reading), the other half of the time I felt like bawling my eyes out and ramming my head into the wall. Shane Claiborne is a man so embodied of what Christians are called to be. He..(not to make him a God or anything), but he has the eyes to see and the courage to break out of the "Christianity" of today. In this book, my eyes were open to run back to AUTHENTIC CHRISTIANITY--the Christianity that takes the focus so much from US to OTHERS to JESUS. He talks about everything from politics, to war, to the poor, homeless, rejected, what being a "cool Christian" is ?!?, to vegetable diesel oil, to Bush, to working with Mother Teresa, to sleeping out on the streets to defend homeless people from getting kicked out of an abandoned cathedral, to Iraq, to going to jail, to love, and the poor, and the love again, and the poor again..and so much more. Are you wondering what being an authentic Christian looks like? Then by all means, I recommend this book. You may hate me when you read it cuz it may screw your life over, but maybe you'll thank me when you get to heaven. (JUST kidding about that last part, I really know so little myself. BUT, I'll be thanking a lot of people for screwing my life over when I get to heaven). =P
|
|
“There are those of us who, rather than simply reject pop evangelicalism, want to spread another kind of Christianity, a faith that has as much to say about this world as it does about the next. New prophets are rising up who try to change the future, not just predict it. There is a movement bubbling up that goes beyond cynicism and celebrates a new way of living, a generation that stops complaining about the church it sees and becomes the church it dreams of. And this little revolution is irresistible. It is a contagious revolution that dances, laughs, and loves." |
==================
NEXT stop::
IF you have not picked yourself up a copy of Jars of Clay's "Good Monsters", you are MISSING OUT. No, I'm not shamelessly plugging this in just because Jars is my favorite band, but in all honesty, this is an album that needs to be in your keeping. The album honestly sounds a whole lot different from previous Jars' albums--with a different sound, different lyrical and musical style--but the lyrics are so real and hits right to the uhmp of your heart. I just can't seem to stop listening to it. I listened to it doing homework, I wake up to it, dance to it, headbang to it, and do everything to it. Me and my housemate Jane Marie are honestly addicted to Jars. We made a Jars of Clay Sob Mix the other day, of which many songs come from THIS album. (The mix was created one night we were lying around downstairs and moaning and bawling for each song we heard.). uhm yes. So my song recommendations: Oh my God, Surprise, Light Gives Heat, Even Angels Cry, Take Me Higher, Water Under the Bridge, oh shooot, all the songs are great (those recommendations make up practically the whole album lol). =D
====================
Okay, that's all my brain can take for now:
Here's a lovely picture of my ladies. They came over yesterday to hang out with me and we made Nasi Lemak, Malaysia's poor man dish, and Gado gado..(it literally means argue argue in Malay).
(look! Amber's smiling with her teeth! she rarely does that!) =)
holy smokes, look at those tasty peanuts we baked. (good pic birdiee)
and of course...amber's amazing cookies graced our bulging stomachs =P
I hope everyone is enjoying their break! And for some of you, I know I'm excited for URBANAAAA!! 6 more days before I'm in St. Louis. this is so crazy, i've been waiting for this for over half a year now. And guess what, Shane Claiborne is gonna be there too! ..hmm this reminds me, I'm off to go research on the major and on organizations and trips now!! yes. =)
| | |
| loving...not the ["poor"], but [children of God]
what does it look like when we care for the poor the way jesus would have?
i don't know. i'm trying to look at the world through the eyes of jesus, and it's hard. it's tiring. it's painful. today, even before i took my journalism final i was brainded out. The whole day yesterday I was working on a 10 page paper about transgenic crops. It's one thing to be writing papers and having to study at the same time. It's another thing to be thinking about such matters of how to save the world and whether the agriculture technology gene revolution is going to be any better than the Green Revolution in feeding the world. Being a CRD major is depressing sometimes because we learn about all the messed up things in the world and then further torture ourselves by thinking about it 24/7 when finals roll around.
I woke this morning feeling pretty miserable. I had gone to bed at 1:30 last night..which is normal or little earlier than usual, but I believe my age is catching up to me. It took me a gzillion years to fall asleep and my eyes couldn't even close because they were going spastic from staring at the computer screen for so long. And then, the people downstairs always turn on their bulldozer bathroom vent like at 2 in the morning, assisting me in my endeavor to successfully not fall asleep. I fought with myself trying to get up today. I'm really not a pretty sight in the morning. But I zipped through and finished my transgenic crop paper just in time to rush off to take the 9:30 bus to take my other final. Sometimes I wonder where all my motivation goes, I literally gave up on the paper and just turned it in as it was. sigh.
And so thus I was in my selfish self this morning. My eyes wanted to crash (and i still now want to crash), and I didn't really want to talk to anyone. On the way home I stopped at Safeway with plans to pick up some drinks and satsumas for my bosom friend Ann, who is giving me a ride home tomorrow. But lo and behold, these plans to zip in and out of Safeway did not go as expected.
There has been a homeless lady waiting at the Safeway turnout for the last week or so asking for any sort of help and I've always wondered about her everytime I passed her by on the bus going to school. Today I walked past her going into the Safeway complex feeling bothered about how futile her attempts were on getting cars to stop. And I felt Jesus tugging at me to go into Safeway and buy her something. But I walked all the way to Safeway, decided I didn't know what to get, walked all the back out to the street, and asked her "ma'am, what can I get you from Safeway?" I think I caught her by surprise. She was avoiding my gaze as I walked towards her, either avoiding me from seeing her shame or helping me avoid feeling guilt if I just walked by. But I asked her. She was like, "Ooh" and smiled. She had this low raspy crackly voice that I could barely make out. Her face was weathered and leathered by who knows how long of living life like this. She had a good tough looking dog with her. She said some Mac&Cheese would be nice. And oooh, those egg rolls are good. And and...perhaps a soda. Yah. A soda. I asked her if she would like anything else. Oh no, I can't carry too much for the journey.
(I'm going into Safeway, and I'll be right back).
I bought her all those things she asked for plus some fruit, box of granola, gum, and random stuff, struggled with the soda (because of my maternal healthy AND CRD instinct about the homeless and how we should help them), then ended up getting her both soda and an Odwalla.
I follow a homeless leader. Do we recognize that Jesus was homeless and did not have a place to lay his head like foxes have holes and birds have nests? Shane Claireborn writes in "Irresistible Revolution," that "Jesus was not simply a missionary to the poor. He was poor--born a baby refugee from the badlands of Nazareth, wandered the world a homeless rabbi, died the rotten death of insurrectionists and bandits on the cross, executed by an oppressive empire, buried in a borrowed tomb. Jesus was crucified not for helping poor people but for joining them. That is the Jesus we follow."
So many times I've been guilty of just seeing these "people" as people that tug at my "humanistic" side to give money. sure. whatever. Some humanisitic side I have. I've been in interesting situations; giving my money to a wheelchaired and possibly drug addict homeless guy on the streets of Seattle, a homeless teen with a maimed foot shaking his empty cup on the streets of Salt Lake City right outside the Mormom temple, a man asking for a $20 bus fare to Washington. Yes. I've been there, done that. But what's stopping me from doing more?? Why have those times only been my loose change and bills? My quick words of "take care" and walk quickly away? Did I do my duty? Is that what it's all about? OBLIGATION?
Honestly, before, I did do it out of obligation. I've written papers about the homeless people and shelters in Yolo County. I have researched the main sources of how, why, when they become homeless, and why they continue to be homeless. I could give you a thousand different reasons. But when we begin to conceptualize them into research victims to be talked about in research papers, we make them into less than humans. Shane Claireborn also said something like this in his book: "Jesus didn't know any prostitutes." (And in all our minds: "Of course he did!!"). "No, Jesus, didn't know any prostitutes. He didn't see a prostitute when he looked into her eyes. He saw someone he desperately loved and cared for, someone worth more than what society made her, someone important and desperately in need of Him."
I wish I could have done more. I wish I could brought her home and shared a hot meal with her. I wish I could have invited her over for Christmas. But I'm going home. And the likelihood of seeing a homeless in my hometown is very slim. So many times I...we.. give the excuse that Jesus said "the poor will always be with you." Bull. Where are the poor? Are the poor among us? They aren't. We escape them. We leave them in those sections of town, we leave them in the wake of the smog of our departing cars. (Who is the kingdom of heaven for??)
I stayed a while to talk to the lady. Her dog's name is Homo. She said it's been cold lately. She'll try to find a warm room somewhere cause it's going to rain. But she also said, "We'll make do. We always do. I got 2 sleeping bags with me."
Someone else with a dog walked by and her dog got up to follow. Before I could say a proper goodbye, she got up to keep her dog back. I was holding up the cars on the corner, so I told her to take care. It was only when I walked away that I realized I hadn't even gotten her name. I got her dog's name, but not even hers.
sigh. When I gave her the food I bought and talked with her, it made it easier to love her not as a homeless person, but as a child of God. But but but..I would love to love like Jesus. I would like if everytime I look into the eyes of a person I can know what way I could love them today. So many times my pride and desire for comfort and just keeping to myself get in the way. The church is victim of it, and I'm victim of it. And we've all fallen into complacency and away from authentic Christianity. But there's grace, and I'm thankful for that, cause there's always next time. Help me Jesus as I try to love. I seek not to do extraordinary things, just ordinary things you would have done. If loving was easy...it wouldn't be love would it?
"Perhaps the most dangerous place for a Christian to be is in safety and comfort."
| | |
|
