Love, Raw and Dangerous

I didn't know that India would capture my heart the way it did. I don't think it was the place, it wasn't the glorious landscape or the mounds of rice that stole my heart. No, it wasn't the trash or the poverty. It couldn't have been that. What was it about this place that stole my heart? I think it was the eyes that were tunnels that led straight to the depths of their souls. It was the heartbreak and repetition written on every woman's face. It was the confusion mixed with desperation and joy when a child felt something different from us.

It wasn't because we were white, yes, that brought them close, but what allowed us into their hearts for just a moment was Jesus. We were glowing, not just our skin, our hearts. They could see it in our eyes and they wanted it. And that was love. It was that one thing, that one raw and dangerous emotion that tied my heart to the country of India.

 An overabundant, never-ending fountain of love. It started in the morning as I spent time with Jesus as he whispered it across my soul. Showing me exactly what my heart needed, rescuing my from pride that could so easily step in. He whispered the words so often early in my trip, "Stay soft, Leah." Preparing my heart for the outpouring of this love. Giving me my sustenance, my joy, my peace, to sustain me.  But it didn't end there, because throughout the day, I just felt this overwhelming urge to tell these people, these children about the love that I know so personally. It wasn't just words, it was real. "Jesus loves you so much," was a truth they had to know. I needed them to understand. In those moments, I felt Jesus' heart for them. How he undoubtedly loved them, How he was pursuing them through the strangest of instruments, me. He orchestrated this moment in time in the most beautiful of ways. His Love flowed through me that gave me a capacity to love. And I never ran out, it was endless. Psalm 92:2 was so real. It is good... to declare your steadfast love in the morning and your faithfulness by night."
The morning I knew his love and by the end of the day the only words I could express were words of gratitude. I sat on the roof many nights with my friend, Liz, and said, "God is so faithful."

I remember holding a little girl in my arms as we walked through the village. The look on her face was confused. She hadn't known this. But she was reveling in it. When she was just walking beside me she had been excited, jumping up and down, but now, she was peaceful, soaking in something different, something that resonated with her heart. Her eyes that led to her soul showed me a glimmer of gratitude because for the first time, she knew what it meant to be held, to be loved.

So how did a home so different from my own take my heart? It was Love Himself.
It's the same with Camp Yolijwa and Cherokee, North Carolina.
They are both places I learned to give love, places I felt my Savior so strongly, that my heart was stolen, captured.
Maybe it's not the places that have a hold on my heart, although I left pieces of my heart behind in those beautiful places, but it's Jesus.

And I have come to the conclusion, Love is a raw and dangerous place to be. Love is hard and can sometimes break your heart. But if you close your heart, you'll miss it. If your heart is stone, you won't see it. Love breathed life into my soul, but it put me at the greatest risk, because I've given my heart to so many, I could fear there will be nothing left. Love is the greatest emptier, but it's also the greatest filler. I've poured it on so many people, but I've gotten so much in return. I didn't know a little child who didn't speak my language could give me so much love. Or an old woman with tumors on her face could hug me and put me in the place of Love, but she did. Love has the potential to hurt, Love holds the ability to break you, and sever your heart in two. Love can leave you with wounds that lay open for a long time, hurts that have been rubbed raw. But at the same time, Love is the most healing of places, and it is worth every single jagged breath I breathe.
Because love is raw and dangerous, but Love is the most adventurous, the most fulfilling. And I will choose love with every step.

My God is Faithful

I sit to write this blog that I've been trying to write for about 2 weeks now and I am at a loss of words for how to describe my past five months. So many words float in my head, but none quite fit this indescribable feeling. None of the words would begin to explain how credulously alive I have become. How my finiteness compared to my Creator's infinity has put me in awe. I could say how India taught me so much about myself, but that would pale in comparison to how much it taught me about my Savior, my Friend and my Jesus.

My God is so Faithful.

Those are the only words that even begin to come close. He is so wonderfully, beautifully, and incredibly faithful. His love is so captivating, He has stolen my heart and I'm never going back to what once was.
5 months ago I drove to Louisville, Kentucky with absolutely no idea what I was getting into. I jumped into a lake and had not a clue where the bottom was or what was in the water. I followed God's leading and have been brought to the most glorious place.
5 months ago the Lord took my heart on a journey. A journey I'm still on and one I pray will never end. It has been hard but oh, it has been so beautiful and exciting.
He took this heart and healed it. From my beginning, all I ever wanted to do with my life was help people, love on people. And he has taught me how. He healed the broken places of my heart I never wanted anyone to see. He held me as I expressed every emotion that had been pent-up for years. Sometimes I yelled and got really angry. Sometimes I cried. But oh, how faithful He was. He showed me freedom. He showed me a love deeper than I had ever felt. He plunged into the depths with me. I love going deep. Deep into the ocean and deep into hearts. And now I'm free, now I'm captured by a love that holds me in the sweetest of chains.
India taught me how to love, whether it was holding a woman who just needed to cry into someone's arms as she felt a glimpse of the love of her Savior, or it was holding a little girls hand saying, "I know what it's like to lose a mommy too." Or maybe it was standing across from a girl who knew the love of Jesus but everyone around her didn't, and she didn't know how to keep on going by herself. India taught me that sometimes I can't fix things. Sometimes I can't hold things together, but I can be Jesus' hands and feet to the needy. I can sit in a dark-lit room or sit in the dirt with children and just be the person they need me to be, Jesus. Or I can play with orphans who never knew a parent's love or don't understand what happened to their parents, and I can give them love, but they give me so much more. How is that?
How is it that I went to India to tell them about Jesus, a place that worships 300 million other gods, yet they taught me so much more about Jesus? How does that happen? It's because His heart is for humanity. It's for me, It's for the women that couldn't quite see that the baby in her arms was God's faithfulness to her, when she had prayed to him as a last resort and he had provided a baby after 8 years of praying to false gods. It was for Sweta. It was for Pandireyvadi, and for Keithana and Pavithat and Ama. It was for every single Indian I came into contact with and remember their face but not their name. It was for every one who had a story and I had a privilege to listen to. His love is so deep and so wide. His heart is so big, so strong and so mighty there is nothing He cannot do.
He is the God who has left his trace all over humanity.
He is my God who doesn't just say, "Leah, trust me." He is my God who has shown me why I should trust him. He has proved his faithfulness to me again and again. Over and Underneath, in every single place I might have had an ounce of doubt, it has been obliterated, because I have seen the love and faithfulness of my Jesus and I am never going back. I will choose to follow my Jesus who has become my everything wherever He wants to take me. Because He is faithful and my heart is His.

And now you may ask what is next for me? I'll be in Lancaster for about a month to fundraise and hang out with friends and family, then I'll be returning to Louisville for the secondary school. It is the School of Ministry Development. I will study leadership and develop my calling and my passions. And then this summer I will go on another outreach!

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 (:

One Girl, One Village, One God

One girl from a little town in America with nothing to offer except a testimony of the Lord's faithfulness. Sent to one woman in one village in one city in this one world to share the love of Jesus and his faithfulness. One God to go before me.

The faithfulness of the one true God is incredible to me. For years a woman waited to have a baby, losing 2 in the process. For years she prayed to her false gods... nothing happened. Two years ago, some missionaries came and prayed with her for a child. 2 years later I'm sitting in her yard as she holds her precious son, and tells me, "I still worship the other gods." 

How, when she has seen the faithfulness of the one true God, can she still say I worship this stone who cannot see me, cannot hear her?

How can she hold that promise of God in her arms and still say no? 

So I pray with my feeble words that my story will leave a footprint and she will remember the words we say to her. I pray that she will find healing because she has seen where I have been.

I'm in awe at how the Lord has chosen to use me, he has said, "Leah, I love you and I chose you to do this task because I want them!"

I am loved enough by God to be a vessel that carries his message of love to a tiny village in India, where as I sit sharing my testimony a herd of goats runs around me and I can't help but giggle and say "Oh India..." I am loved enough by God to satisfy my need of seeing results as he says, "My grace is sufficient." I am loved by a God who paints a beautiful sunrise for me when I hike a mountain at 5 am to sing praises to him. I am loved enough by God to stay behind and meet this amazing old woman whose eyes are desperate. Or to see a little girl in a school and smile at her because despite the fact that she has a hindu dot on her forehead, her eyes tell me differently. She has Jesus in her heart and I pray that she holds him close. I am loved to encourage a 16 year old girl whose family doesn't know Jesus but she tells me, "I still pray." I am loved that much to be given all these stories, to be used by God for all his glory.

This week I'm learning what the old camp song I learned as a child means to me, "Listen to the Lord as he speaks softly, listen to the words of perfect man, listen to the Lord as he speaks softly Listen even when you don't understand." 

Well, I have had so many silly memories this week like accidentally cursing the ground where the apples come from while trying to pronounce a child's name, and also some beautiful things like sharing my testimony on the dirt floor of an Indian hut or listening to Indian Christian's pray in Tamil or sing praises to the Lord. I've seen prayers answered when I pray that God will fill this new church and a stash of children come in from the village. I have found what I love, being surrounded by children as I teach them the love of Jesus (:

Prayer requests: 

-the language barrier has been very difficult for me... pray that I wouldn't withhold words because I don't want to overwhelm the translator.

-pray for rain!

-pray for our team's unity (:

I'll see you next week!!

Oh India

 Sitting cross-legged in a tiny hut, on the other side of the world, drinking chai, with as many people that you could pack in that tiny dark-lit space. There is hope in this room, the people's stories are incredible that stretch across time, and even if I have just one hour will this family, will I use it to share the never-ending love that I have? The unbroken hope that lives inside me?

Oh India is all you can say, when you are driving down the street and pretty convinced you are going to hit another car, horns honking and cows EVERYWHERE, holding baby chickens that randomly walk into the hut. I've been here a week and have had probably 300 cups of chai tea. The food is so painfully spicy sometimes, but the Lord is giving me grace. I try to pronounce children's names but end up cursing the place the apples come from... teaching duck duck goose as hen hen cow and seeing so much joy in their faces..
There is trash everywhere, but this place is so beautiful, you can see it when you look into their stunning eyes. The poverty is not so overwhelming when you see the way they face it with strength. They are a people of worship, the story of Jesus is a strange one for them to accept, but I believe our love will show them still a better way.

Because when I look into the eyes of little girl whose eyes are so full of wonder because someone is showing her an ounce of love, my heart breaks because this is something so new to her. When the children laugh because they think it is so silly that I cannot pronounce their words, and all I want to do is tell them Jesus loves you, but the language barrier is almost the same as miles. But I've learned to give love by looking into their eyes, touching their hands, that no one else will touch. My heart is shattered as I walk through a hindu temple and watch a mother teach her child how to lay on the ground, still, worshiping idols that will never breathe. My heart is with the woman who was alone, cursed by witchcraft, in her tiny hut who just longed to feel our touch. The children didn't follow us into her home like they did the others, maybe she was untouchable, but touch is a language that reaches in and destroys the pain.  Looking into the eyes of a woman, who hasn't quite found healing for losing her mom, and being able to share the healing God has brought to me.

Well, lunch is ready, so I gotta go! Thanks for your prayers and such!

Prayer Requests:
The Indians need rain. It hasn't rained her in Madurai and it is making them live in hopeless poverty. Pray that it will come and they'll know it is from the Lord.
That we will be able to be bold and confident sharing our faith.

Hope is Rampant

The animals were restless, the sky wasn't as dark as it usually was, the stars seemed to twinkle just a little brighter. The sorrow that usually reigned in the shepherd's hearts was nearly nonexistent. The king's usual burdens were lifted, their hearts feeling thousands lighter.

An inexpiable hope was rampant in this city.

A lonely innkeeper, no room left in his home, longed to say 'yes' to the family that gave him a strange sense of peace. He longed for the hope that seemed to leap from the joyful young father and weary mother. Giving all he had left, he said, "It's not much, but the stable has room." He lifted his eyes and knew it was an answer to their prayers. As smiles danced on their lips. The young mother placed her fingers on her large middle. She said "He's happy."

Hope was rampant in this old innkeeper's heart. 

The baby came painlessly, letting out a cry in the night. The cry that initiated hope. It set fire to the anticipation of the years. He came quietly, but the lowly knew. The animals almost danced in their grazing through the fields at night. The earth groaned in expectation of what this meant for Creation itself. The shepherd's watch a host of angels, the most magnificent sight they had ever seen, sing of hope, sing of peace, sing of joy. The night was holy, they knew. The innkeeper watched from his window, as a glow from the fields screamed hope to his hopeless heart. He watched the young family, and for the first time believed the stories his ancestors had passed through the ages. A Savior would come, a Messiah would arrive. Immanuel, God was finally with us. He didn't know how, but there was something about that baby, that tiny baby, that the mother lovingly placed in his arms that ignited a fire in his heart. He saw Love in that baby's fiery eyes. A furious Love that would stop at nothing. A passionate Love that was captivating his soul. 
"What's his name?" He whispered in awe as the baby wrapped a tiny fist around his finger.
"Jesus, God rescues." The young mother smiled.
The scriptures he had memorized as a boy shouted in his heart, "For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given; and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."
He knew this was that baby, beyond a shadow of doubt, this baby was hope incarnate. This baby restored life to his broken soul within moments. This baby made all the hurt of all the years disappear. This baby looked deep into his soul and said, "I AM." And this lonely, old innkeeper, frail and broken, believed for the first time.

Hope was rampant for the world.

Each shepherd that came to kneel before this baby, with nothing to offer but themselves, was changed. They looked into the eyes of Justice and Mercy and felt forgiveness. They looked at their meaningless life, and this baby, The Son of God, gave them purpose for the first time. 
The kings bowed before, repented of their selfish ways, because they had been called by God himself to serve this land. 

Hope was rampant in this city. 

My heart wanders back to that night, 2000 years ago, and as I stare into this Christmas Eve candle-light, a tiny light in comparison the the Light of that peaceful night. 
 "For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ."
2 Corinthians 4:6
I may never know what it was like to stare into the eyes of a babe who brought life into the world. I may never know what it was to stand in a stable so strongly reeking of hay, to stand in the most peaceful, yet glorious night in all of history. I may never know what it was like to see the moment when history was changed, when Love breathed his first, when hope burst out of tiny lungs into a grieving world, longing for something more. But I know what it is to be pursued by a furious love, to have a friendship with a jealous Savior. I've experienced the faithfulness of my God who not only came as an infant, and died on the cross for my sins, but lived a life to show me what it means to be fully alive.
 The fear and doubt is fleeing. 

Hope is rampant in my heart.