The Why

God uses people. God uses people to perform His work. He does not send angels. Angels weep over it, but God does not use angels to accomplish His purposes. He uses burdened broken-hearted weeping men and women.
–David Wilkerson

Some wish to live within the sound of a chapel bell; I wish to run a rescue mission within a yard of hell.
— C.T. Studd

I have but one candle of life to burn, and I would rather burn it out in a land filled with darkness than in a land flooded with light.
– John Keith Falconer

Someone asked Will the heathen who have never heard the Gospel be saved? It is more a question with me whether we — who have the Gospel and fail to give it to those who have not — can be saved.
— Charles Spurgeon

‘Not called!’ did you say? ‘Not heard the call,’ I think you should say. Put your ear down to the Bible, and hear Him bid you go and pull sinners out of the fire of sin. Put your ear down to the burdened, agonized heart of humanity, and listen to its pitiful wail for help. Go stand by the gates of hell, and hear the damned entreat you to go to their father’s house and bid their brothers and sisters and servants and masters not to come there. Then look Christ in the face — whose mercy you have professed to obey — and tell Him whether you will join heart and soul and body and circumstances in the march to publish His mercy to the world.
– William Booth

"He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose."
-- Jim Elliot

"God is pursuing with omnipotent passion a worldwide purpose of gathering joyful worshippers for Himself from every tribe and tongue and people and nation. He has an inexhaustible enthusiasm for the supremacy of His name among the nations. Therefore, let us bring our affections into line with His, and, for the sake of His name, let us renounce the quest for worldly comforts and join His global purpose."
-- John Piper

Every day, every hour, may I learn to love justice, to show mercy, and to walk humbly with my God. These men got it, they understood what it meant to live a poured-out life. It's not about going to the most remote place you can find on a map--that I think I have learned--but it's about joyfully pouring our hearts and lives out because He did it first.

Painful Questions

I don't know how to say this,

I don't know how to stand,

I don't know where toput my feet,

or where to put my hands.

I've got them in my pockets,

my fingers are freezing cold . . . .

I think we've figured out this world is bigger than you and I.

We've exhausted our wealth of knowledge and have no more answers for mankind

We've had every conversation in the world

about what is right and what has all gone bad,

but have I mentioned to you that this is all I am,

this is all that I have.

--Sara Groves, "Conversations"

To wonder what mercy means, when it will appear and sweep through this broken world in a way I can see--these are questions I struggle with. I want to see it now, I beg for mercy for these shattered lives, for the little ones left behind, for us who cry with and for them but cannot bear their burdens.

Wishing?

I wish the semblance of organization in my mind would manifest itself in my everyday life. I want to be like those people in Southern Living with perfectly beautiful, always neat homes that seem to say “Come in!” (they also say “Don’t touch!” but that’s for later!). I wish my expenses were all carefully organized in an Excel document and that I balanced my checkbook on occasion. I wish all my clothes were neatly hung up in my closet, and that my dresser wasn’t cluttered with an assortment of hairpins, slips of paper with seemingly important information scrawled on them, and various tubes and bottles. I wish my kitchen cabinets were worthy of Martha Stewart stopping by to inspect them. I wish the project work I have to get done this weekend wasn’t spread out in 2 notebooks, 3 sheets of paper, and two Word documents. I wish all the recipes I want to make before I die were all laminated and organized in a 3 ring binder, instead of being written on miscellaneous index cards and envelope flaps. I wish my purse contained only the essentials —keys, phone, Kleenex, mace J instead of the “what if I need it?” items that are crammed in there (someone might stop breathing around me and that CPR mask would sure come in handy!). I wish my schedule was consistent and that I really went running every Monday/Wednesday/Friday/Saturday. I wish the thousands of photos on my computer were efficiently arranged into correctly named folders, all stored under “My Pictures”. I wish that I could promptly reply to all the letters and emails waiting on me. I wish that when I made banana bread half the flour didn’t end up sprinkled over the floor and dusting my shirt. I wish that when I walked I could always keep walking, but instead I make contact with gravel, rocks, doors, and people that you’re really not supposed to. I wish I would remember to water my plants, instead of letting them die slow, withered deaths.
I could go on, but you probably get the point . . . .
I know some of these things I can change, and I should, and I do try (sometimes). But then I think, “Whoa! I’m in my mid-20s; I’m set in my ways--I’m going to be like this when I am 80!!” And I panic for a moment and think maybe I should be a little more neurotic about all these things.
Yet, yet . . . . do these things really matter? The world around me would have me believe that they do, indeed, matter greatly. How many self-help books can I find to help me be a better, more organized, more prepared, more perfect person? Insomuch as these things truly do reflect my heart and mind, then yes, those things certainly need to be worked on and changed so that even in the small things I might “work as unto the Lord”.
But in all truth, I’d rather spend less time, energy, and stress on dusting the corners and more on always having a cup of coffee ready for someone who needs a friend. I’d rather have a clean toilet than a designer home. I’d rather serve Mexican chicken soup that simmered all day than “fried papaya strips with mango salsa” that I spent all day on and no one wants to eat. I’d rather be a messy cook than a take-out queen. I’d rather have an allowance and let someone else keep my accounts straight (hey, I can wish!!).
I realize these things aren’t all mutually exclusive. And maybe someday I’ll get it all together, I’ll be able to have that perfectly neat home and always be able to find my last bank statement. But more than that, I hope that when I am 80 I can look back and not regret how I spent my time and energy.
So come on over. The coffee’s ready and the no-bake cookies are on their way. Just push over that stack of clothes on the sofa and have a seat!

Not Boring

Life, that is. I'm sorry I haven't been posting lately to tell you that, but here's a little taste for you to see why life could never, ever be boring in a place like this!!