Two months.
Eight weeks.
Lots of lessons.
Perseverance.
There's
always a point in ministry where I look up and say, "Lord, are you for real? Do you even want me here? Were you just kidding when you called me to this place?" because I
feel weak. I
feel like I'm hurting more than I'm helping. I
feel like I haven't reached the point of being usable (I don't even know what that point is). I
feel misunderstood, and alone.
And there's
always a point to which He answers, "Look at Jesus. Tell me if He gave up, tell me He didn't patiently endure for the JOY sent before Him; tell me what He did and I'll tell you if I'm for real." because I'm certain He
felt weak, sweating blood in Gethsemane and I'm positive in the midst of hurling insults and spits to the face, He
felt alone and misunderstood but there was something greater going on and He knew it. Something holy. Something true. Something worth persevering for.
In the same way, in a camp, in the middle of Indiana, 2,000 years later - there was something greater going on. Something holy. Something true. Something worth persevering for and it was the look of freedom on that group of 7th grade girls who had been told time and time again they weren't enough, it was the joy of understand forgiveness in Chole's heart, it was the strength to believe in Haley's life.
That was my JOY, that's what I was fighting for.
Being a child.
We had a
terrible group of kids one week. Terrible. Mean. Disrespectful. Hurtful. The ones where they look you in the eye, listen to what you say, wait for a second to pass and do thee exact thing you asked them not to do. Yep, those ones. But it wasn't just one kid here or there, it was the ENTIRE group. Our staff was so excited to love on these kids but luckily, I was in the kitchen that week. Lucky right? Wrong. One boy came through the line and we placed ONE pea on his tray, one. Just one. And he took it and through it right back into the pot and for those of you who don't know, you would need to dump that entire pot out and start over (We didn't but anyway...). I was like whaaaaa?! and really began to pray. Hard. For these terrible, mean kids and the Lord said,
STOP.
Not loud or mean but clearly. He began to speak to my heart and He said, "You look me in the eye, listen to what I say, wait a second and do thee exact thing I ask you not to do. You become angry over something small, you manipulate to get your way, and then you throw my pea of grace back in My face. You are these children but you
are mine, and they? They
are mine. Love them, don't try to discipline them or change them; love them. Meet them where they are at because I do that with you, every. day."
Owned, by the Lord.
I began to love, and they began to respond.
The Gospel lived out.
i CHOOSE you.
Living across the street from your boyfriend has its peaks. Especially after living in a different country for five months, it took some getting used to waking up and walking out the door and waving to him as he was sweeps the porch or saying good-night in person but it also has its valleys. I experienced more hardship in my relationship being together every day than I did thousands of miles a part. Because I see flesh, because I notice down falls, because I choose not to understand, or care, or love. It is easier to walk away, it is easier to throw in the towel and say, "That was a good year." but it takes something beyond you to stay. To choose to understand. To choose to love. To see the ick in a person and declare, "I may not feel gooey about you right now, but I CHOOSE YOU. All of you. Yes, even the icky part but the beautiful parts, too. The encouraging parts and the leadership parts and the praying parts. I CHOOSE YOU."
Jesus deeply sees us. Jesus deeply knows our motives and thoughts and sees each action and I know He wasn't feeling mushy when He said, "You did not choose me,
but I chose you."
That's love. That's faith. That's endurance.
It goes beyond a feeling.
(Thank you, Sam for choosing me time and time again, even in the midst of hardship. You amaze me.)
Waiting for the pat on the back.
So often, Christians in America (or, in general but I only know of America) are waiting for that pat on the back. Or that "You are going so above and beyond by loving that homeless man; good job!". Or recognition for doing what is require of us.
There's a story in the bible where Jesus says, "Does the master thank the servant when he's done in the fields? No, the master eats and drinks then lets the servant eat and drink." The master doesn't thank him or give him a high five for what's required of him. We are waiting for something that only boosts are egos, that only makes us focus on ourselves and somehow think that they way we love is from US.
Yeah, right.
Stop waiting for the pat.
Or the good job.
Or the high five.
Your reward is in heaven, not on earth.
If we're honestly repenting, unconditionally loving, purposefully pursuing;
we're simply doing what's required of us.
