Like a leaky faucet water droplets fall off the brim of my hat. The rain doesn’t stop for anyone or anything. Being in the outer rim of a hurricane’s wrath makes you wish you would’ve packed everything in Ziploc bags, including yourself. Being in Central America during the rainy season also alerts your body to some previously unknown facts. Realizing that there is truly no part of your body that has not been dampened by the unrelenting rains, you stop making fun of the silly looking Wal-Mart rain poncho that your teammate is wearing. Truly like a scene from a movie the islands in the gulf of Costa Rica are visible only a few times through the blankets of rolling fog. My imagination runs with the ideas of dinosaurs or King Kong peering through the dense forests watching our boat slip past the rocky shore. Somewhere on the island though is a school, where students are waiting.
Our day began with a painstakingly slow hour and a half drive across Costa Rica’s infamous roads. We finally arrived at a small river among the mangrove and palm trees where we got out of the cars. Where are the boats I asked; all I got in response was an outstretched arm pointing down the river. We secured the equipment in large garbage bags to protect from the looming rain clouds and we began our journey downstream. I chose wisely to remove my shoes and socks, although the thought of stepping on a crab or some shells was no consolation to my decision. As the mud climbed up my leg I soon realized that distance is a relative term depending on what country you are from.
We soon reached the boat and loaded the equipment; then we were faced with the difficult part of having to push the boat into deeper water. The water soon reached my thigh and the mud was coming up to the lower part of my knee, regardless of how high you roll your pants, you realize that blue jeans are not the fastest drying pants in the world. Soon we were out far enough that the driver could lower the engine. The open water awaited us.
We made our way across the water towards one of the islands. There are no cars or trucks on the island so we pretty much pulled right up onto the beach in front of the first school. We dropped off the first team and the film equipment, we then headed to the high school and breakfast, it was ten ‘til twelve in the morning.
Scrambled eggs, brown rice and black beans truly never looked, smelled or tasted so good. The coffee needed a lot of sugar but that was worth it also. After finishing my plate and wishing I could have about three more the students began coming into the room. About 25 in all they filled the small cafeteria we had transformed into a theatre that afternoon. Here in Costa Rica we are sometimes unable to hand out the Book of Hope in schools; however the GodMan film is widely accepted and used throughout the country to tell the students the truth of God’s love for them.
As I introduced the movie I told them that this was a story that has changed everyone’s life on our team. It was a story that they had to choose whether to accept or reject, they had to make a decision about what they thought about their place in the story.
After the film, the room sat quiet as we continued to speak about their choices in life and what the consequences for those decisions could be. Unable to give a salvation message to the kids we encouraged them to make good choices and live in a positive way. We told them never to forget the message they had just seen in their public school cafeteria.
We told them to remember that each one was created with a specific purpose and plan for your life, remember that God loves you and cares very much about you. As I made my way barefoot down the hill toward the boat I am comforted by the knowledge that one of the ladies we are working with will continue to follow-up with the kids at this school. In the same moment my mind switched gears to prepare for more ministry in the evening; the day isn’t finished yet as we still have two more churches to show the film at where about a hundred kids are waiting. Showers, rest and being dry will come later in the day than I was hoping.
12.03.2005
11.02.2005
40 Prisoners
In a small rehabilitation center on the outskirts of Morelia Mexico a group of forty men slowly walk out of the confined quarters of the meeting room. Heads down, hands clasped behind their backs looking at nothing but their feet moving across the floor. They are not as much prisoners of the building as much as prisoners of the choices they’ve made in the past. They are all here trying to rebuild their lives after being addicted to alcohol or drugs.
We all came to the meeting with certain expectations about who they would be and what they would look like. This was definitely not the usual type of presentation that we’re used to at Book of Hope. All these men were all at least as old as I am or older. Definitely not the crowd we’re used to speaking to. Yet these men opened their hearts and lives to us for an hour as we presented Hope to them. We were allowed to show a movie to them about the life of Jesus. Book of Hope’s animated movie “The GodMan” may have been created to reach a younger audience than these men; yet somewhere deep inside them they knew this was their story as well. It was the story of how someone greater than them had given up everything to live among us and die in our place. That is the story that transcends time, social status, languages, cultural differences, race, gender or environmental being.
I suppose there really is no difference between those 40 men and I. We’ve all been prisoners at one time to things that we thought would bring us happiness or fulfillment, and God doesn’t judge in “shades” or levels of sin. In our world we have different types of law breaking, in His eyes it all looks the same. There is no worse sin than another, there is no smaller or less significant rule breaking. No lessening to the degree of what we’ve done against God.
I think this idea really hits when you start thinking that you’re somehow better or more holy than the people you’re speaking to. Forgetting where your passport was issued, what color your skin is or isn’t, what language you speak or where you’re from. Instead remembering what an honor it is that God would choose us to send His message. How incredible that He would let us carry this message of redemption and love. Remembering that we were just like those we are now speaking to. No better in any way, just aware of the truth that God has revealed to us.
As we finished our presentation many of the men began giving short testimonies about what God had done in their lives. Some asked simply if they could share, others just stood up and started talking. Some even tried relating their story in English, only to quickly switch to Spanish to fully detail the events.
These men have made different choices than I have in life, they were born into different circumstances and different environments. Maybe our stories would have been switched had we been born in different places. In the same way God looks at sin all the same, He now looks down and sees those 40 prisoners and I the same. His children.
We all came to the meeting with certain expectations about who they would be and what they would look like. This was definitely not the usual type of presentation that we’re used to at Book of Hope. All these men were all at least as old as I am or older. Definitely not the crowd we’re used to speaking to. Yet these men opened their hearts and lives to us for an hour as we presented Hope to them. We were allowed to show a movie to them about the life of Jesus. Book of Hope’s animated movie “The GodMan” may have been created to reach a younger audience than these men; yet somewhere deep inside them they knew this was their story as well. It was the story of how someone greater than them had given up everything to live among us and die in our place. That is the story that transcends time, social status, languages, cultural differences, race, gender or environmental being.
I suppose there really is no difference between those 40 men and I. We’ve all been prisoners at one time to things that we thought would bring us happiness or fulfillment, and God doesn’t judge in “shades” or levels of sin. In our world we have different types of law breaking, in His eyes it all looks the same. There is no worse sin than another, there is no smaller or less significant rule breaking. No lessening to the degree of what we’ve done against God.
I think this idea really hits when you start thinking that you’re somehow better or more holy than the people you’re speaking to. Forgetting where your passport was issued, what color your skin is or isn’t, what language you speak or where you’re from. Instead remembering what an honor it is that God would choose us to send His message. How incredible that He would let us carry this message of redemption and love. Remembering that we were just like those we are now speaking to. No better in any way, just aware of the truth that God has revealed to us.
As we finished our presentation many of the men began giving short testimonies about what God had done in their lives. Some asked simply if they could share, others just stood up and started talking. Some even tried relating their story in English, only to quickly switch to Spanish to fully detail the events.
These men have made different choices than I have in life, they were born into different circumstances and different environments. Maybe our stories would have been switched had we been born in different places. In the same way God looks at sin all the same, He now looks down and sees those 40 prisoners and I the same. His children.
9.21.2005
Where´s the Church
Seat 22C on an American Airlines flight isn’t anything that unusual to be sure. Not an exit row or over the wing, definitely not first class and not too close to the bathrooms. As I looked at my boarding pass I wondered how long this flight would be, would it be very crowded and who will I be sitting by? As I waited in the aisle of the plane I scanned down to try and count out the rows to see if I could figure out if the row was full or not.
As I neared my seat I looked to see the middle one was open and I was on the aisle, well that probably won’t last long. I greeted my fellow aisle-issued traveler with a “Hello”. As I put my bags quickly under my seat and got out of the aisle, without really thinking I asked how things were going, she surprisingly replied that her day was very crazy. Ok I thought to myself, we have come to a decision point, pursue the conversation and find out what’s going on in this girls life or let it slide and read the three magazines and type away on my computer for the rest of the flight.
I chose option one.
What followed was two hours of conversation I truly never expected to hear from such a young person. She was traveling back to be with her family in Texas after spending two months in Florida with her boyfriend. Drug-abuse, four family splits, a one year old baby boy, friends committing suicide and two trips to rehab later I sat stunned that I had just heard all this. I really didn’t know how to offer and hope to this young lady. If I was in front of 500 Guatemalan kids I could rattle off our traditional Book of Hope presentation without thinking twice. I’m a professional in what I do and how it’s to be done. I can take any audience of kids wherever you want them to go, I can play any part in any drama, do any testimony at any time, I can set-up sound systems and troubleshoot them. I’ve got experience in over 18 different nations. But what does it matter if I can’t simply explain how Christ cares and loves this girl.
We had already covered all the surface type questions, and I didn’t really know where to go from there when she asked me if I had ever been involved in drugs. I guess this was the open door I had been looking to find. I explained parts of my story and how I had never done drugs because of the effect they had on my family and friends. I told how drugs had messed up a lot of my friends and I knew that I didn’t want to do that. Then I started to tell her about God. About how He cares and loves and is a friend to people in need. How it is more than going to church and that relationship I have with God helped me avoid those bad decisions. There is a reason that I didn’t do drugs and it was because I want something better for my life.
We continued talking for much of the rest of the flight about God and the part he can play in each of our lives. During much of her story I kept wondering how her life would have been different if someone could have intervened. What would her story be like if someone from the church she was attending had cared enough to reach out. What would she be telling me today if the church had done what it is supposed to do?
It doesn’t take ministerial credentials to listen and be a caring person. That’s what the world is looking for. Someone that will take the time and be Jesus to them, they are looking for a face to put on God.
On one hand, I wanted to encourage her to find a church and people that could help her. Go back to God, find out what he has for you. Find a good church that has people that will pray for you and keep you accountable. Yet in the same moment it frightened me to think how those church members would react or treat her when they heard her story. Where is the church today? Where are the people who will take in the hurting and hopeless world? Are we too busy with committee meetings and church services trying to decide the best hymnals to sing? Are we missing the people because we’re arguing over the best program to reach them?
Our team will be traveling the next 3 months into Mexico, Costa Rica and Panama. These countries each present different challenges; but please pray specifically for open doors to schools and the local churches to be receptive to the Book of Hope ministry. Please also pray for me as I attempt to lead an intern team into the great unkown. I need God’s help daily for I know that I cannot do anything without Him.
I don’t write this with any malice or negative intentions. Only to help us all think about the people we are impacting and the lives we are commissioned to change. Be aware of the people around you, we really don’t know the impact a kind word or a listening ear can be.
Where is the church and how can we change? How can we be the refuge to the world we are meant to be?
A girl named Lyndsey in 22A would like to know.
As I neared my seat I looked to see the middle one was open and I was on the aisle, well that probably won’t last long. I greeted my fellow aisle-issued traveler with a “Hello”. As I put my bags quickly under my seat and got out of the aisle, without really thinking I asked how things were going, she surprisingly replied that her day was very crazy. Ok I thought to myself, we have come to a decision point, pursue the conversation and find out what’s going on in this girls life or let it slide and read the three magazines and type away on my computer for the rest of the flight.
I chose option one.
What followed was two hours of conversation I truly never expected to hear from such a young person. She was traveling back to be with her family in Texas after spending two months in Florida with her boyfriend. Drug-abuse, four family splits, a one year old baby boy, friends committing suicide and two trips to rehab later I sat stunned that I had just heard all this. I really didn’t know how to offer and hope to this young lady. If I was in front of 500 Guatemalan kids I could rattle off our traditional Book of Hope presentation without thinking twice. I’m a professional in what I do and how it’s to be done. I can take any audience of kids wherever you want them to go, I can play any part in any drama, do any testimony at any time, I can set-up sound systems and troubleshoot them. I’ve got experience in over 18 different nations. But what does it matter if I can’t simply explain how Christ cares and loves this girl.
We had already covered all the surface type questions, and I didn’t really know where to go from there when she asked me if I had ever been involved in drugs. I guess this was the open door I had been looking to find. I explained parts of my story and how I had never done drugs because of the effect they had on my family and friends. I told how drugs had messed up a lot of my friends and I knew that I didn’t want to do that. Then I started to tell her about God. About how He cares and loves and is a friend to people in need. How it is more than going to church and that relationship I have with God helped me avoid those bad decisions. There is a reason that I didn’t do drugs and it was because I want something better for my life.
We continued talking for much of the rest of the flight about God and the part he can play in each of our lives. During much of her story I kept wondering how her life would have been different if someone could have intervened. What would her story be like if someone from the church she was attending had cared enough to reach out. What would she be telling me today if the church had done what it is supposed to do?
It doesn’t take ministerial credentials to listen and be a caring person. That’s what the world is looking for. Someone that will take the time and be Jesus to them, they are looking for a face to put on God.
On one hand, I wanted to encourage her to find a church and people that could help her. Go back to God, find out what he has for you. Find a good church that has people that will pray for you and keep you accountable. Yet in the same moment it frightened me to think how those church members would react or treat her when they heard her story. Where is the church today? Where are the people who will take in the hurting and hopeless world? Are we too busy with committee meetings and church services trying to decide the best hymnals to sing? Are we missing the people because we’re arguing over the best program to reach them?
Our team will be traveling the next 3 months into Mexico, Costa Rica and Panama. These countries each present different challenges; but please pray specifically for open doors to schools and the local churches to be receptive to the Book of Hope ministry. Please also pray for me as I attempt to lead an intern team into the great unkown. I need God’s help daily for I know that I cannot do anything without Him.
I don’t write this with any malice or negative intentions. Only to help us all think about the people we are impacting and the lives we are commissioned to change. Be aware of the people around you, we really don’t know the impact a kind word or a listening ear can be.
Where is the church and how can we change? How can we be the refuge to the world we are meant to be?
A girl named Lyndsey in 22A would like to know.
8.21.2005
Laughter
I don’t really know when it happens along the day, but somewhere in between the fourth fifth or sixth presentation, the faces begin to be blurred by time and repetition. After you’ve been in front of thousands of students their stories, smiles, schools and uniforms all seem to mesh together to form an immense pull on your heart. A deep longing in your heart develops, a desire to be able to rescue all of them and save them from the loneliness and darkness that covers their lives. Somewhere along the day you can’t seem to get away from the realization that what you’re doing is most likely the only time in their lives when they can escape the reality in which they live.
We provide them with a short break from the day to day. We are there to rescue some and awaken others. The school assembly is our invitation to them, to leave their burdens for just a few moments.
Because those few moments are when their lives seem to be better, their father’s are home again to care for and love them, their mother’s don’t have to depend on their income of selling candy on the streets to tourists. They are not abused every morning before they leave to school and they’re not fearful of returning home that night. Those minutes when something in their hearts stirs and tells them that this is what they’ve been looking for. This message these Americans have brought brings hope where the failed relationships or the drugs and alcohol could not.
The assembly begins with some reservation, why have you come to my school? What are you going to expect from me? Soon the realization is made that there is truth in the message and the only thing the American’s expect or ask for is my attention. Then the laughter begins, things that are said or a funny face from one of the actors causes waves of it across the schoolyard.
The children’s laughter is heavy, but filled with a hidden joy. Filled with the sounds of stolen innocence being shaken off. Their laughter is full of the life that has been hidden and pressed down through their few years. The children are allowing themselves to be children. The children are allowing themselves to laugh if even just for a moment to relieve themselves of the real world they struggle to survive in. And the laughing feels good.
But then the stories continue and a message of hope is heard in it all. The opportunity to be able to understand the same joy these people have and the chance to live every day with the same peace that is present in this moment. Where and how can I find this?
As the presentation continues the anticipation builds, what is this book that you keep talking about? Who is this best friend that cares so much about you? Does he care about me as well? Tell me again that someone cares for me, that I can have a friend that will never leave me. Tell me again that someone knows my name and I have a purpose. Tell me again that everything is going to be ok. Tell me again that the things that happen to me aren’t my fault.
Everyday, in countless countries, in nameless cities and villages and counties God’s Word is being distributed to children who are hurting and searching for a message that will bring some sense of hope to their lives. Something that will bring even the smallest gleam of hope that things in life can be better.
And as I sit here writing these thoughts, the street is filled with that sound of children. I look out the window and see them running through the streets in their blue and white school uniforms with torches lit to mark a celebration of their schools anniversary. The same students that we will face in a few days are now running past my window hand in hand with each other. I hear them laughing and it brings back memories of the kids in the schools who’ve already received their books, whose lives’ have been altered. Yet in the same moment I am reminded that there are still many more.
We provide them with a short break from the day to day. We are there to rescue some and awaken others. The school assembly is our invitation to them, to leave their burdens for just a few moments.
Because those few moments are when their lives seem to be better, their father’s are home again to care for and love them, their mother’s don’t have to depend on their income of selling candy on the streets to tourists. They are not abused every morning before they leave to school and they’re not fearful of returning home that night. Those minutes when something in their hearts stirs and tells them that this is what they’ve been looking for. This message these Americans have brought brings hope where the failed relationships or the drugs and alcohol could not.
The assembly begins with some reservation, why have you come to my school? What are you going to expect from me? Soon the realization is made that there is truth in the message and the only thing the American’s expect or ask for is my attention. Then the laughter begins, things that are said or a funny face from one of the actors causes waves of it across the schoolyard.
The children’s laughter is heavy, but filled with a hidden joy. Filled with the sounds of stolen innocence being shaken off. Their laughter is full of the life that has been hidden and pressed down through their few years. The children are allowing themselves to be children. The children are allowing themselves to laugh if even just for a moment to relieve themselves of the real world they struggle to survive in. And the laughing feels good.
But then the stories continue and a message of hope is heard in it all. The opportunity to be able to understand the same joy these people have and the chance to live every day with the same peace that is present in this moment. Where and how can I find this?
As the presentation continues the anticipation builds, what is this book that you keep talking about? Who is this best friend that cares so much about you? Does he care about me as well? Tell me again that someone cares for me, that I can have a friend that will never leave me. Tell me again that someone knows my name and I have a purpose. Tell me again that everything is going to be ok. Tell me again that the things that happen to me aren’t my fault.
Everyday, in countless countries, in nameless cities and villages and counties God’s Word is being distributed to children who are hurting and searching for a message that will bring some sense of hope to their lives. Something that will bring even the smallest gleam of hope that things in life can be better.
And as I sit here writing these thoughts, the street is filled with that sound of children. I look out the window and see them running through the streets in their blue and white school uniforms with torches lit to mark a celebration of their schools anniversary. The same students that we will face in a few days are now running past my window hand in hand with each other. I hear them laughing and it brings back memories of the kids in the schools who’ve already received their books, whose lives’ have been altered. Yet in the same moment I am reminded that there are still many more.
8.15.2005
Healing Places
Healing takes place in many ways and in many different settings. It sometimes happens during times of great stress or when we step out of our comfortable lives. When we step away from our world of cell phones, iPods, computers, school, work, church and familiar places to enter their world of poverty, hopelessness, confusion and fear; we place ourselves at risk of being moved with compassion and our lives being shaken. One of the greatest motivators for doing what I do is when I see this healing first hand, sometimes within a short ten days in another country with a team of people I’ve never met.
God begins this process far before the actual trip as we are stretched and grown to trust Him for finances, environmental changes and of course the unkown. For those who dare to take these steps and follow through with these commitments there is an incredible perspective or lifestyle change waiting on the other side.
Once on the field there are breaking points that bring about another part of this healing process. Seeing a homeless person on a street can sometimes awaken us to the world around us. Watching as hundreds of students desperately read a message of truth handed to them. Sometimes it is the story of one of the children that opens our hearts to expose the wounds and thus allow God to heal the hurt, mistrust, confusion or fears that plague our lives.
God never expects perfection, but he desires wholeness, a continuing process we will never finish in this life. He desires that we be open to His voice changing and shaping us, He is making us into people He can depend on and be proud of.
When we step out and rely on the God who created us with the exact characteristics that we have we find that our stories bring this same healing and encouragement to others’ lives as well. The most amazing part about this life is that God can take us as we are, beat-up, bruised, broken and failing, to change, restore and gently piece us back together. Then He has the faith in us to let us take His hope and truth to the hurting world around us.
He believes in us enough to actually be His arms, hands and feet to carry His Love to the people we used to be. When these events take place, God can truly shine through us as He changes our story from one of defeat to one of destiny. God help us view our world always keeping Your destiny in mind.
Regardless of whether we meet again on a missions field somewhere or not, I trust that God will lead and direct each of you in your lives.
Travis the Money Changer, Phil (We need God in America), P.Van, Francisco Mi Héroe, Rhoda Letter, Messy Jessie, Meghann (if you start feeling sick… too late), Victoria (Walk of Lifer), Sarina Beana, Abby (the flirt), Autumn (look at that!), Melissa (Horchata mmmm), Ashley (stop licking toes), Sonia (close your eyes) and Felicia (always cool stories)…
As I watched your plane taxi and then take off into the blue rain-clouded Guatemala City skies I thought about this; God called each of you away from the ordinary, normal, everyday life to live for ten days in the extraordinary world beyond your borders. As you sit at your computers reading this at home or work or school, His question still remains:
“How much more can you give”?
Vaya con Dios
God begins this process far before the actual trip as we are stretched and grown to trust Him for finances, environmental changes and of course the unkown. For those who dare to take these steps and follow through with these commitments there is an incredible perspective or lifestyle change waiting on the other side.
Once on the field there are breaking points that bring about another part of this healing process. Seeing a homeless person on a street can sometimes awaken us to the world around us. Watching as hundreds of students desperately read a message of truth handed to them. Sometimes it is the story of one of the children that opens our hearts to expose the wounds and thus allow God to heal the hurt, mistrust, confusion or fears that plague our lives.
God never expects perfection, but he desires wholeness, a continuing process we will never finish in this life. He desires that we be open to His voice changing and shaping us, He is making us into people He can depend on and be proud of.
When we step out and rely on the God who created us with the exact characteristics that we have we find that our stories bring this same healing and encouragement to others’ lives as well. The most amazing part about this life is that God can take us as we are, beat-up, bruised, broken and failing, to change, restore and gently piece us back together. Then He has the faith in us to let us take His hope and truth to the hurting world around us.
He believes in us enough to actually be His arms, hands and feet to carry His Love to the people we used to be. When these events take place, God can truly shine through us as He changes our story from one of defeat to one of destiny. God help us view our world always keeping Your destiny in mind.
Regardless of whether we meet again on a missions field somewhere or not, I trust that God will lead and direct each of you in your lives.
Travis the Money Changer, Phil (We need God in America), P.Van, Francisco Mi Héroe, Rhoda Letter, Messy Jessie, Meghann (if you start feeling sick… too late), Victoria (Walk of Lifer), Sarina Beana, Abby (the flirt), Autumn (look at that!), Melissa (Horchata mmmm), Ashley (stop licking toes), Sonia (close your eyes) and Felicia (always cool stories)…
As I watched your plane taxi and then take off into the blue rain-clouded Guatemala City skies I thought about this; God called each of you away from the ordinary, normal, everyday life to live for ten days in the extraordinary world beyond your borders. As you sit at your computers reading this at home or work or school, His question still remains:
“How much more can you give”?
Vaya con Dios
7.31.2005
Exit Row
On my most recent trip from California to Florida, I was sitting on an Exit Row where the leg-room is better, but the seats didn't recline. No worries I thought, it was only about a 3 hour flight, I've endured worse than that.
The two girls sitting behind me obviously hadn't been on an exit row seat before so they were a little taken by the spacious seating and emergency procedures they would be required to fulfill.
As I listened to them talk I heard them mention they were SO glad to be returning home to Florida from a long trip of vacation and shopping. I mean it just sounded appalling that they had done all this shopping at Hollister (the store not the city) and Abercrombie and Fitch where they got all sorts of new clothes. The worst part of the trip was when they had gone to Nordstrom Rack and found two pair of shoes at $80 a piece that their mom wouldn't let them purchase, what insolence that their mother would do something like that.
I think two things trouble me about overhearing their conversation, which they weren't trying to keep quiet so I don't feel as bad about hearing what they were saying.
1. If an emergency had arisen and these girls had to help people exit the plane; would they have been more concerned with their iPods, shopping bags and Couture purses than with helping the passengers get out safely? Would I have more concern for others' safety than for my things? Would you?
2. Listening to them talk I wondered what I spend time talking about. Do I sound the same to others who listen to my conversations? If we recorded everything that we said during the day, would we want to listen to ourselves at night?
No offense intended to those who buy those brands of clothes, but I sure hope it doesn't become something more important to you than those precious few moments we could be spending with God.
The two girls sitting behind me obviously hadn't been on an exit row seat before so they were a little taken by the spacious seating and emergency procedures they would be required to fulfill.
As I listened to them talk I heard them mention they were SO glad to be returning home to Florida from a long trip of vacation and shopping. I mean it just sounded appalling that they had done all this shopping at Hollister (the store not the city) and Abercrombie and Fitch where they got all sorts of new clothes. The worst part of the trip was when they had gone to Nordstrom Rack and found two pair of shoes at $80 a piece that their mom wouldn't let them purchase, what insolence that their mother would do something like that.
I think two things trouble me about overhearing their conversation, which they weren't trying to keep quiet so I don't feel as bad about hearing what they were saying.
1. If an emergency had arisen and these girls had to help people exit the plane; would they have been more concerned with their iPods, shopping bags and Couture purses than with helping the passengers get out safely? Would I have more concern for others' safety than for my things? Would you?
2. Listening to them talk I wondered what I spend time talking about. Do I sound the same to others who listen to my conversations? If we recorded everything that we said during the day, would we want to listen to ourselves at night?
No offense intended to those who buy those brands of clothes, but I sure hope it doesn't become something more important to you than those precious few moments we could be spending with God.
6.17.2005
Being There
Imagine something with me. Think of a 100 by 50 foot run-down, dirt-floored school cafeteria/assembly hall. Imagine no glass in the windows, old wooden tables and benches, you sitting at the place of “honor”—near the front, against an old wall that must have been painted ten years ago. You’re at the first school you’ve ever been to in Masaka, Uganda. Now imagine the kids, at least five hundred of them: coal black eyes, dark skin, all with the similar close-cut hair which takes away any clue as to gender. All wear school uniforms, or parts of them, or whatever clothing they could find. The school choir assembles and begins to sing a song. You hear the words and your vision becomes clouded with tears as you realize they are welcoming you to their school. They are welcoming you to their school for orphans, from 1 to 18 years old. These are children who’ve lost their parents to AIDS.
The song goes something like this: “We are happy to receive you here, welcome, welcome, welcome”. As the choir sings, a few children step forward and explain about their lives and ask you to pray for them. Then they step back into the choir and the song resumes.
For a moment you think to take a picture. How else can you truly relate this story or this event to the people at home? If you could just pack up everything—the children, the percussion players, the teachers—and bring them all back home to your church to share with everyone. If you could somehow show people what your life is really like: the smells, the sights, the sounds and the experiences. Then it would capture their hearts the way it’s captured yours. I wish you could have been there with me.
For some of us at Book of Hope, this is what we do. This is what we gave up family, jobs, careers and homes for. This is our calling. This is where we feel God has placed us for this time. This is where we bring our lives to try and figure out how we’re going to reach the millions of children in Europe, Africa, Russia, Asia, South and North America. Our responsibility is to train and teach the local churches how they can effectively reach their neighborhoods and communities with the Book of Hope.
Many times our task begins by trying to explain the importance of children’s ministries to the church. It amazes me to hear pastors and workers tell us that the children aren’t that important, that they don’t help pay tithes so they shouldn’t be regarded as part of the church. Part of our responsibility and training is to show how much value the Book of Hope has in reaching children, and how those children can in turn reach their families.
In August I will have been with Book of Hope four years. It’s amazing to look back and think of all the places I’ve been and all the people I’ve met. I can see all the changes that have taken place in my life and in the lives of the people around me. My brother Micah recently got married. He and Michelle met on a summer intern trip in 2002. As I look through pictures of that trip, I don’t feel any sense of loss or doubt about what I am doing.
I am giving my life to something that will truly make a difference in the lives of thousands of children around the world. I believe that God has called me here, and that the time I’ve spent with Book of Hope has been powerfully invested in something beyond this life. This is an investment in things that will never fade.
So back to Masaka and the school: as the song finishes, you realize the children are all looking at you. You wipe tears from your cheeks. You are expected to minister to them. This is what you are here for. This is what you traveled 8,000 miles and 10 different time zones for. Yet as you sit there contemplating what to say, you realize that these children have touched a part of your heart and soul in a way that can never be repaid. I’m so glad you could be there with me.
During the Spring semester of 2005 our intern teams were in over eight different countries, trained over 1000 local church members and distributed over 200,000 Books of Hope to students.
The song goes something like this: “We are happy to receive you here, welcome, welcome, welcome”. As the choir sings, a few children step forward and explain about their lives and ask you to pray for them. Then they step back into the choir and the song resumes.
For a moment you think to take a picture. How else can you truly relate this story or this event to the people at home? If you could just pack up everything—the children, the percussion players, the teachers—and bring them all back home to your church to share with everyone. If you could somehow show people what your life is really like: the smells, the sights, the sounds and the experiences. Then it would capture their hearts the way it’s captured yours. I wish you could have been there with me.
For some of us at Book of Hope, this is what we do. This is what we gave up family, jobs, careers and homes for. This is our calling. This is where we feel God has placed us for this time. This is where we bring our lives to try and figure out how we’re going to reach the millions of children in Europe, Africa, Russia, Asia, South and North America. Our responsibility is to train and teach the local churches how they can effectively reach their neighborhoods and communities with the Book of Hope.
Many times our task begins by trying to explain the importance of children’s ministries to the church. It amazes me to hear pastors and workers tell us that the children aren’t that important, that they don’t help pay tithes so they shouldn’t be regarded as part of the church. Part of our responsibility and training is to show how much value the Book of Hope has in reaching children, and how those children can in turn reach their families.
In August I will have been with Book of Hope four years. It’s amazing to look back and think of all the places I’ve been and all the people I’ve met. I can see all the changes that have taken place in my life and in the lives of the people around me. My brother Micah recently got married. He and Michelle met on a summer intern trip in 2002. As I look through pictures of that trip, I don’t feel any sense of loss or doubt about what I am doing.
I am giving my life to something that will truly make a difference in the lives of thousands of children around the world. I believe that God has called me here, and that the time I’ve spent with Book of Hope has been powerfully invested in something beyond this life. This is an investment in things that will never fade.
So back to Masaka and the school: as the song finishes, you realize the children are all looking at you. You wipe tears from your cheeks. You are expected to minister to them. This is what you are here for. This is what you traveled 8,000 miles and 10 different time zones for. Yet as you sit there contemplating what to say, you realize that these children have touched a part of your heart and soul in a way that can never be repaid. I’m so glad you could be there with me.
During the Spring semester of 2005 our intern teams were in over eight different countries, trained over 1000 local church members and distributed over 200,000 Books of Hope to students.
4.26.2005
Washing feet...
"Five minutes, that's all, very close" I was assured that the hotel I was looking for was just walking distance down the road. I suppose I could just walk there then. If it's just down the road and it's on this side of the street. "Five minutes?" I asked. "Yes, very close", the front desk guy says.
I guess by now I should know that words like five and minutes are subjective terms, meaning they can change depending on the person you're talking to and the subjects being spoken of.
As I left the comfort of the air conditioned lobby, I nimbly dodged the construction work going on directly outside the hotel. It looks like a new sidewalk is being made, but not knowing anything about road work I guess it's necessary to remove most of the street as well.
Smells and sights and sounds, lots of sounds explode my senses, it's like the entire community is out today on this road at this exact time with a place to go and people to push out of the way. I didn't feel threatened or anything, the situation just takes your emotional world up a few notches. About thirty minutes into the walk I come to the conclusion that I've missed the place and turn around to head back. Then up in the distance I see the sign, I don't remember if he told me that you could only see it from the back, no, now that I think about it, he didn't. I guess he was honest when he said five minutes, but it seemed like a really long, hot, dusty, loud, smelly five minutes for sure.
It's amazing to me the contrasts that you can see here. Huge buildings rise up in front of you, people in shirts and ties running into them and then right next door, literally, directly next to the building you see children playing in the garbage piles, their parents sifting through looking for something valuable.
And yet here I am in the midst of it all, trying in vain to figure out some way to help, some way to begin to understand how to reach these people. I've been sent to serve. I've been sent to try and show people who Jesus is and how much he loves them. I've been sent to wash their feet and show them that I too am a person in need of Christ, no more or less important than them. Our lives and languages and citizenship may be different, but we're all the same the same price was paid for each of us. So I've been given a message and a command, to take this story to the children. Tell them there is a friend, a father, a future for each of them sitting near the King of all Kings. Being held by the Father who will never leave them and will always love them. This is the message I've been sent to give.
India is an incredible place, nothing can prepare you for coming here, and it will leave marks on your heart that will never go away.
I guess by now I should know that words like five and minutes are subjective terms, meaning they can change depending on the person you're talking to and the subjects being spoken of.
As I left the comfort of the air conditioned lobby, I nimbly dodged the construction work going on directly outside the hotel. It looks like a new sidewalk is being made, but not knowing anything about road work I guess it's necessary to remove most of the street as well.
Smells and sights and sounds, lots of sounds explode my senses, it's like the entire community is out today on this road at this exact time with a place to go and people to push out of the way. I didn't feel threatened or anything, the situation just takes your emotional world up a few notches. About thirty minutes into the walk I come to the conclusion that I've missed the place and turn around to head back. Then up in the distance I see the sign, I don't remember if he told me that you could only see it from the back, no, now that I think about it, he didn't. I guess he was honest when he said five minutes, but it seemed like a really long, hot, dusty, loud, smelly five minutes for sure.
It's amazing to me the contrasts that you can see here. Huge buildings rise up in front of you, people in shirts and ties running into them and then right next door, literally, directly next to the building you see children playing in the garbage piles, their parents sifting through looking for something valuable.
And yet here I am in the midst of it all, trying in vain to figure out some way to help, some way to begin to understand how to reach these people. I've been sent to serve. I've been sent to try and show people who Jesus is and how much he loves them. I've been sent to wash their feet and show them that I too am a person in need of Christ, no more or less important than them. Our lives and languages and citizenship may be different, but we're all the same the same price was paid for each of us. So I've been given a message and a command, to take this story to the children. Tell them there is a friend, a father, a future for each of them sitting near the King of all Kings. Being held by the Father who will never leave them and will always love them. This is the message I've been sent to give.
India is an incredible place, nothing can prepare you for coming here, and it will leave marks on your heart that will never go away.
4.13.2005
As Fast As The Crow Flies
As fast as the crow flies, I thought to myself. Our train was leaving the station as I watched this big black bird glide alongside us. His life probably spent near the train station growing accustomed to the slow moving machines harboring his observer. Amazing I thought, he’ll never know anything more than this train station, although he can fly above the cities and look over them all; he’ll never see past his immediate surroundings or think past his next meal. He doesn’t know how big the world is or about all the other places and people living in it. He’ll never understand politics, work, traffic, school, marriage or governments. He doesn’t think about tomorrow or the problems it may hold. Oh to be a crow.
Wouldn’t it be great to live his life and be able to leave the worries and troubles of life and live for the day? To be able to forget about the fears, worries and doubts that plague this existence. Just for one day, one single day to be able to gaze down on the world and the cities without concerns or cares. What would that be like? Just to be a crow.
He’ll never understand my world; he’ll never understand my life or my experiences. Even if I tried telling him about all the things he’ll never know about, he’d just flap his wings and wonder why I wasn’t throwing him any bread.
Never knowing sadness, loneliness, emptiness, joy, happiness, excitement, or love. He’ll never know the experience of other cultures or eating food that you don’t like. He’ll never understand what it’s like to give a child a Book of Hope, to do a school assembly, give a testimony or perform a drama; he’ll never see lives changed. He’ll never hear God speak or see his work. To be a crow is to never have any purpose or any dreams for your life, no drive or ambition, no one to fight for or look forward to seeing or hearing from.
For those of us who’ve experienced these Book of Hope events in life, would you trade them? If someone said you could trade everything you have right now for the life of an average bird; would you give everything up for a life of simple existence? Would you want it?
Thank you God, that I’m not a crow. Thank you that you’ve created me with a purpose and a story to tell. Thank you that you’ve created a new heart in me and entrusted me to spread the message of your love and truth to hundreds of young people around the world. Thank you that I’m not a crow. Flying there looking across the tracks at some big machine moving as fast as I am; wondering about what that tall person is thinking while watching me… thinking about more important things like… lunch.
Wouldn’t it be great to live his life and be able to leave the worries and troubles of life and live for the day? To be able to forget about the fears, worries and doubts that plague this existence. Just for one day, one single day to be able to gaze down on the world and the cities without concerns or cares. What would that be like? Just to be a crow.
He’ll never understand my world; he’ll never understand my life or my experiences. Even if I tried telling him about all the things he’ll never know about, he’d just flap his wings and wonder why I wasn’t throwing him any bread.
Never knowing sadness, loneliness, emptiness, joy, happiness, excitement, or love. He’ll never know the experience of other cultures or eating food that you don’t like. He’ll never understand what it’s like to give a child a Book of Hope, to do a school assembly, give a testimony or perform a drama; he’ll never see lives changed. He’ll never hear God speak or see his work. To be a crow is to never have any purpose or any dreams for your life, no drive or ambition, no one to fight for or look forward to seeing or hearing from.
For those of us who’ve experienced these Book of Hope events in life, would you trade them? If someone said you could trade everything you have right now for the life of an average bird; would you give everything up for a life of simple existence? Would you want it?
Thank you God, that I’m not a crow. Thank you that you’ve created me with a purpose and a story to tell. Thank you that you’ve created a new heart in me and entrusted me to spread the message of your love and truth to hundreds of young people around the world. Thank you that I’m not a crow. Flying there looking across the tracks at some big machine moving as fast as I am; wondering about what that tall person is thinking while watching me… thinking about more important things like… lunch.
3.03.2005
Breaking and Entering
It's hard to imagine someone literally closing a door in your face. It's hard to imagine turning away someone who is trying to improve the lives of the very children you are there to protect. It's hard to imagine the absolute frustration I felt when I left her office.
The situation had turned bad when the religion teacher met with us and reluctantly "agreed" to let us distribute the Books of Hope in the schools. After all, we'd been there since that morning in the classrooms, why would there be any problem now? Time froze for me when the representative from the mayor's office returned moments later and said we could not give the students the books, a complete change, within moments. I asked to speak to the director myself knowing that I would not just lie down and take the defeat.
As we entered the small ten-foot by ten-foot office, I sensed quickly that the director had made up her mind, or someone had made it for her, and that it was not going to change. She informed me that we could leave the books in the library, from there the kids could check them out if they wanted and she started to arrange the papers for the correct signatures. I put my foot down, trying to keep the door open, trying to think of the options we had.
I asked for the reason, why was this door closing? What's happening here God? Show me, talk to me. The teachers don't want distractions, they're too busy, I knew she was not being truthful, every teacher was excited for us to be there, except the one whoís voice and influence was the loudest. I reached for the door handle, hoping to turn it or push it the other direction, but I think I missed.
We agreed to allow some books to stay in the school library, but not the 280 that we should have given to the kids. A compromise? Yes I think it was, I nearly cried when I got back with my team. I felt absolutely defeated. What is it God? What am I supposed to learn here?
I wish each of these stories had a happy ending. The reality though is that a door was closed today, and I felt responsible for not being able to keep it open. I knew that I did everything that I could do, and those negative thoughts and attitudes that I started feeling did not come from God. He was with us today, and he knows the childrenís names that still need to know about His truth.
As one door closes to us, another is being opened. Not only opened, but welcomed with open arms. You see, in one classroom, in the school right next door, one teacher is taking our ministry one step farther. She told her students that tomorrow they would take an hour of class time to discuss the Book of Hope. They would take the time they should've been learning about Economics, to instead learn about Life; to learn about God. They will read about His plan for their lives, His eternal Truths and His love. Is that what you're teaching me? That your timing is perfect? That you're working even when I feel I'm not?
After we've gone and someday forgotten about the most of the details and events of the city, God still has every child's name written somewhere. He has each of their hearts held gently and pulling them towards himself. There is comfort knowing that many of those kids have been called by Him to do incredible things.
When one door closes, I donít stop knocking on others. For someday God will require of us an account of how many doors we tried to open, and I don't want to start thinking of excuses.
There is surely a future Hope for you, and your Hope will not be cut off.
Proverbs 23:18
The situation had turned bad when the religion teacher met with us and reluctantly "agreed" to let us distribute the Books of Hope in the schools. After all, we'd been there since that morning in the classrooms, why would there be any problem now? Time froze for me when the representative from the mayor's office returned moments later and said we could not give the students the books, a complete change, within moments. I asked to speak to the director myself knowing that I would not just lie down and take the defeat.
As we entered the small ten-foot by ten-foot office, I sensed quickly that the director had made up her mind, or someone had made it for her, and that it was not going to change. She informed me that we could leave the books in the library, from there the kids could check them out if they wanted and she started to arrange the papers for the correct signatures. I put my foot down, trying to keep the door open, trying to think of the options we had.
I asked for the reason, why was this door closing? What's happening here God? Show me, talk to me. The teachers don't want distractions, they're too busy, I knew she was not being truthful, every teacher was excited for us to be there, except the one whoís voice and influence was the loudest. I reached for the door handle, hoping to turn it or push it the other direction, but I think I missed.
We agreed to allow some books to stay in the school library, but not the 280 that we should have given to the kids. A compromise? Yes I think it was, I nearly cried when I got back with my team. I felt absolutely defeated. What is it God? What am I supposed to learn here?
I wish each of these stories had a happy ending. The reality though is that a door was closed today, and I felt responsible for not being able to keep it open. I knew that I did everything that I could do, and those negative thoughts and attitudes that I started feeling did not come from God. He was with us today, and he knows the childrenís names that still need to know about His truth.
As one door closes to us, another is being opened. Not only opened, but welcomed with open arms. You see, in one classroom, in the school right next door, one teacher is taking our ministry one step farther. She told her students that tomorrow they would take an hour of class time to discuss the Book of Hope. They would take the time they should've been learning about Economics, to instead learn about Life; to learn about God. They will read about His plan for their lives, His eternal Truths and His love. Is that what you're teaching me? That your timing is perfect? That you're working even when I feel I'm not?
After we've gone and someday forgotten about the most of the details and events of the city, God still has every child's name written somewhere. He has each of their hearts held gently and pulling them towards himself. There is comfort knowing that many of those kids have been called by Him to do incredible things.
When one door closes, I donít stop knocking on others. For someday God will require of us an account of how many doors we tried to open, and I don't want to start thinking of excuses.
There is surely a future Hope for you, and your Hope will not be cut off.
Proverbs 23:18
2.06.2005
Frozen Shocks
I know for sure that her shocks were frozen and completely worn out. Riding in an ’84 Audi 80 on snow-covered roads with a sixty four year old Romanian woman driving only assures me this is not a normal life. Not that I want it to be either.
We met her near her home, right at the corner where the trams follow a lazy turn. I vouched for us to cross the street to stand in the sun; it’s still cold here. As we waited I looked to see this older woman approaching us, not being sure it was her I half- smiled as she walked up. “Pace” She says. I return the greeting. Except now I know it’s her. Pace (pronounced pah-che) means Peace in Romanian, a traditional greeting that church people use with each other. I’ve heard that after Jesus rose, he greeted everyone this way, although I haven’t confirmed that, I’ll do my best to be appropriate to the right people.
As I exchange the greeting with her she says in broken English “Good to meet you”. Leave it to everyone else to out- do us in knowing other languages. Here she stands with her white fur coat and jet black curly hair exploring the world from under the brim of her brown fur hat. She points towards a vehicle parked by the road. I can’t tell if the car is white or it’s just all the snow. Dora explains that it will be easier to drive to the church than to walk. As I make the hand sign for shoveling snow, I think to myself that maybe that’s not true.
So we traverse the piles of snow nearly consuming her car from all sides. She gets in and attempts to start the car at least twelve times, finally as the car clunks and sputters, she heads it out onto the street, as Steve goes for one door and I go for the other she motions that only Steve’s door works. Hmmm, should I ask about the brakes?
So the story goes, and we go, down the street, the back shocks or something making quite a bit of noise the entire time. Sounding like someone is being dragged under the car and only hits the bottom of the trunk when we go over bumps, yah, something like that.
Well we made it, she had to get out a couple times and clean off her windshield. At one point spraying some imitation Windex onto the front and back. I would’ve been glad to get out and help, but I was between Steve and the non- working door. I guess I could’ve climbed over Steve but the fact that her grand- daughter sitting on her brother’s lap between the door and Steve somewhat blocked my pathway. Yes indeed, this is the life I choose to live, a life of interesting times, people, places and strange events.
But it’s the life I love. Investing time in something that will never fade away. Giving your life to children and giving them Hope. This is the work that will truly make a difference and will really matter. A life of simple adventure and the unknown, challenges waiting at every corner. Even when you really think that everything is planned and prepared, someone asks you to speak at a Baptist Pastor’s meeting. Yes, just when you think it’s all planned out.
Well, thanks for reading to this part.
That’s it.
We met her near her home, right at the corner where the trams follow a lazy turn. I vouched for us to cross the street to stand in the sun; it’s still cold here. As we waited I looked to see this older woman approaching us, not being sure it was her I half- smiled as she walked up. “Pace” She says. I return the greeting. Except now I know it’s her. Pace (pronounced pah-che) means Peace in Romanian, a traditional greeting that church people use with each other. I’ve heard that after Jesus rose, he greeted everyone this way, although I haven’t confirmed that, I’ll do my best to be appropriate to the right people.
As I exchange the greeting with her she says in broken English “Good to meet you”. Leave it to everyone else to out- do us in knowing other languages. Here she stands with her white fur coat and jet black curly hair exploring the world from under the brim of her brown fur hat. She points towards a vehicle parked by the road. I can’t tell if the car is white or it’s just all the snow. Dora explains that it will be easier to drive to the church than to walk. As I make the hand sign for shoveling snow, I think to myself that maybe that’s not true.
So we traverse the piles of snow nearly consuming her car from all sides. She gets in and attempts to start the car at least twelve times, finally as the car clunks and sputters, she heads it out onto the street, as Steve goes for one door and I go for the other she motions that only Steve’s door works. Hmmm, should I ask about the brakes?
So the story goes, and we go, down the street, the back shocks or something making quite a bit of noise the entire time. Sounding like someone is being dragged under the car and only hits the bottom of the trunk when we go over bumps, yah, something like that.
Well we made it, she had to get out a couple times and clean off her windshield. At one point spraying some imitation Windex onto the front and back. I would’ve been glad to get out and help, but I was between Steve and the non- working door. I guess I could’ve climbed over Steve but the fact that her grand- daughter sitting on her brother’s lap between the door and Steve somewhat blocked my pathway. Yes indeed, this is the life I choose to live, a life of interesting times, people, places and strange events.
But it’s the life I love. Investing time in something that will never fade away. Giving your life to children and giving them Hope. This is the work that will truly make a difference and will really matter. A life of simple adventure and the unknown, challenges waiting at every corner. Even when you really think that everything is planned and prepared, someone asks you to speak at a Baptist Pastor’s meeting. Yes, just when you think it’s all planned out.
Well, thanks for reading to this part.
That’s it.
1.24.2005
Excitement is an anxiety killer... I think
What's going on...
This next trip will be to Romania, Ukraine and Uganda
As excited as I am about the whole trip, we've been faced with some interesting challenges. While in Romania we have two meetings that have been keeping me up at night.
One is with the director of a ministry that works in many countries around the world doing children's ministry. We want to explore the relationship between the Book of Hope and their ministry. How they could use the Book of Hope to reach out to students that we cannot reach.
The other meeting is with a District School Director. Basically this is the person who can give us permission to go into all the shools in his district. Possibly thousands of schools, and hundreds of thousands of kids could receive the Book of Hope with his approval.
Uganda is now called the "Birthplace of Aids" Many people believe that it can be traced back to a single town. Please pray for our team as we enter a culture almost destroyed by this deadly disease.
So maybe excitement isn't the killer, but the promoter. Either way, I keep waking up before my alarm, ugh.
This next trip will be to Romania, Ukraine and Uganda
As excited as I am about the whole trip, we've been faced with some interesting challenges. While in Romania we have two meetings that have been keeping me up at night.
One is with the director of a ministry that works in many countries around the world doing children's ministry. We want to explore the relationship between the Book of Hope and their ministry. How they could use the Book of Hope to reach out to students that we cannot reach.
The other meeting is with a District School Director. Basically this is the person who can give us permission to go into all the shools in his district. Possibly thousands of schools, and hundreds of thousands of kids could receive the Book of Hope with his approval.
Uganda is now called the "Birthplace of Aids" Many people believe that it can be traced back to a single town. Please pray for our team as we enter a culture almost destroyed by this deadly disease.
So maybe excitement isn't the killer, but the promoter. Either way, I keep waking up before my alarm, ugh.
1.14.2005
Change is the only certain thing.
If life was certain then it wouldn't be any fun. There wouldn't be any adventure, no surprises no twists and turns. When I arrived here in Florida thinking that I would be travelling to India this Spring, I was shocked to find out that instead, we'd be going to Romania, Ukraine and Uganda. I guess India will have to wait.
Imagine what it would really be like knowing our future, knowing where you're going, who you'll meet and what will happen. It's comforting knowing that even with the crazy world we live in, there is God who looks at us and smiles, cries, grieves and maybe even shows us off to a few of his friends. It's nice to know that my life is safe in his hands, my life is unstoppable until his goal is accomplished with this me in this world. It's good going to sleep at night knowing that there's someone next to me helping to figure out what it's all about, giving me a purpose and a calling.
At least, that's what I think. Hope you like the pictures!
Imagine what it would really be like knowing our future, knowing where you're going, who you'll meet and what will happen. It's comforting knowing that even with the crazy world we live in, there is God who looks at us and smiles, cries, grieves and maybe even shows us off to a few of his friends. It's nice to know that my life is safe in his hands, my life is unstoppable until his goal is accomplished with this me in this world. It's good going to sleep at night knowing that there's someone next to me helping to figure out what it's all about, giving me a purpose and a calling.
At least, that's what I think. Hope you like the pictures!
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