Sweta, Augustia and Me

Her name was Sweta. She trailed behind me in the village. Leading a stash of children, loneliness radiated from her being. I would turn and smile and wave at her she would hide her face and fall back with the crowd. "What is your name?" I ask. She doesn't understand.
We lead the children to the center of the village doing a program for them. At the end our translator said to pray for the children. Everything in me screamed "tell her about Jesus!" How could I? She didn't know my name. The Spirit inside me gently whispered, "Tell her I love her."
Her eyes captured me. Her loneliness compelled me. The dot on her forehead motivated me. The language barrier terrified me. But in obedience I turn to this little girl, and with some prodding  and other children's help, I learned her name was Sweta and she was 4. But she ran away. I prayed for a few more children, but I had to tell her. So I followed her and room her hand. I start to say the most important truth I have ever been told, and a girl, my angel, appeared out of nowhere. She said "I'll translate." I said, "Sweta, Jesus loves you so much!" She smiled, and lingered with me for a while. The other girls name was Augustia. She said "I love Jesus too." I got to encourage her and tell he to share Jesus with her friends. Her father is away and she said "I miss him, but Jesus is my friend.
I made two friends that night and I learned my obedience will be rewarded. If God tells me to go, he will provide a way for it to work. He is faithful, and he cared enough about a little girl named Sweta. I pray she will always remember the white girl who held her hand and gave her the greatest gift she could receive. God cared enough about Augustia who was a little discouraged to be the only one who loved Jesus to send me to encourage her heart. And he cares enough about me to teach me a tiny lesson of obedience. The way Jesus aligned all of our stories together amazed me.

So this week we have moved to Salem, India. The food is so much spicier and India hasn't gotten any less silly or rediculous. Like  stopping our van because the is a herd of goats in the middle of the road. But his voice is so clear to me, and I am finding the line between recieving his love in the morning, and giving it throughout the day, pouring into these people. And at the end of the day singing of his faithfulness. 

Dynamite

What a week it has been. A few words to sum it up: God is so faithful, God is so good. God loves you so much!

So many eyes watch me, as if the words I have to say are the most valuable things they have ever heard. I feel the familiar pounding of my heart, knowing that because of their story I just heard, mine might change their lives. I launch into a story I know to well, my own. This woman takes care of 8 children. 4 of her own, 4 of her deceased sister's. I tell them of a pain similar, a hurt they know just as well, but I add one thing they didn't experience. The love of Jesus, the goodness and the faithfulness of my God. I am blown away that God still chooses to use my story, almost on a daily basis, even though it isn't finished, even though it sometimes still hurts a lot, even though sometimes I wrestle with God, he still chooses to use me in my imperfection.
Maybe I'll never see the impact of my story, maybe I'll never know if it was worth it, but the strength God gives me each time, the words and the passion that come from the deep places within me, tell me that it is worth it.
Because when Jesus whispers to me, "When you are weak, then you are strong." Someone once told me the greek translation of the word strong in that Bible verse actually means dynamite. He tells me I am dynamite.Each time I share words that come straight from God, or bible verses to a hurting family, I know I am dynamite. Each time I pray, Jesus reminds me I have the same power that raised him from the dead within me. I am dynamite.
I can only hope with all my heart that years down the road the five year old girl who lost her mom will remember the white girl that held her hand and said, "I understand." I can only pray the woman who was distracted by the fact that we were so white and a baby chipmunk was in our hands, will remember the words of the gospel, the words she prayed, not just adding another god to her list, but realizing how worth it he is. Or maybe one of the 1000 children we spoke in front of, representing 84 villages would have their lives change and take it home to their families.
It brings me so much joy to return to villages after a week and have children shout my name, only wanting to touch my hand and see if I still remember the very little Tamil they taught me.So much joy to see a man and woman have healed legs, but more importantly healed hearts because they asked him to be their Savior.
Dramas, schools, photography and babies. I love this ministry so much!!
And as I finish this week, this blog, I hear Jesus whispering, "You're dynamite." And I can't help but smile (: