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 (:
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 (:
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