Answering the "Why?"

He stared right into my eyes.  I could tell he was trying to hold back the emotion and pain, but it showed all the same.  

“Why?  I need you to tell me why you get up everyday and choose to do this over and over again? Why don’t you just throw in the towel? Why don’t you close this place? Why do you choose to keep facing the risk, the suffering, the loss?  Why?”

It was a loaded question.  He knew it, and we knew it. There was no right answer, but he was desperate to find one.  It was too much.  He was seeing the enemy win too many battles.   He was starting to lose hope and without hope, he knew there wasn’t much left.

I knew what my husband’s answer was going to be.  I knew because it’s the very essence of who he is.  

He calmly responded, “Because I know to Whom I belong. I know my God.  He has been faithful to me these 40 years.  I know He will meet me and us in our need.  He ultimately will always have the victory. Just as David listed all the attributes of God, I too have my list of all the times, big and small, that God was faithful.  I do it because I know God asked me to, and if He is the one Who asked me, He also will see to my every need.  This place, these children, my country, they all belong to Him anyway.  I can trust Him because I have seen His hand.”

For my husband, the answer was easy.  He has known the pangs of real hunger from days without real food not just the ones of a spiritual fast or a forgotten meal.  He knows the loss of a parent both through death and even for a period of time, through the awful circumstances of life. He has known rejection and betrayal and disappointment.  He has been without and he has experienced abundance.  He has known both immense pain and immense joy.  He has seen both the worst of man and the best.  So for him, He understands that God is His all because He has literally been his All for the 40 years of his life.  

I smiled at his profile and squeezed his leg underneath the table.  What a gift it was having this steady, faithful man as my husband.

It was my turn now, though, and I knew really the man who had asked the question was waiting the most for my answer.  He knew I had another home thousands of miles from this one. He knew I had a loving family somewhere else.  He knew that I had other opportunities.  He knew that I could have chosen a path that wouldn’t have been pain free but certainly would have been less wrought with the struggle, the grief, and the pain of this one. 

I swallowed hard and decided to just tell him the truth.

“For me it is harder.  I find that I live most days somewhere between wanting to trust God with all my heart and also the fear that is never far behind all of the ‘what if’s.’ As my husband said, I KNOW that I can trust God.  I have seen His hand as well.  He has been so faithful to us.  But, I am also scared.  I am scared of what He is going to ask me to do next.  I am scared that it will be too much for us or mean too much sacrifice or loss for my family or me.  On the really hard days, I may not physically have my bags packed but mentally I do.  I rehearse my speech for why we should leave. I still mourn the dreams never realized and all I left behind.  

The truth is I am often afraid…but I also can’t turn back.  I can’t be the Sara I was 17 years ago.  I can’t unsee what I have already seen.  I can’t ignore what I now know.  I wrestle with the question over and over of why I had so much when others have had so little.  Why did I get wonderful, loving parents?  Why did I get white skin and a beautiful suburban home?  Why did I get to hear about Jesus when I was young enough to skip the typical rebellious teenage years?  Why was I born in the US?  I also have a lot of ‘Why’ questions, and I have only come up with one answer.

So I can give.  So I can pour myself out.  So I can be that drink offering that Paul talks about.  There are too many people already in this world choosing to look away because it’s too hard or too scary. There are too many who would rather be safe and comfortable than risk pain or suffering for the sake of those that have little to nothing.  This world doesn’t need more comfort.  We need more people willing to risk for the sake of their neighbor.  

You ask me, ‘Why do I keep choosing this?’ Because God asked me to. Because I can’t go back.  I have seen too much now.  I am different.  And at the end of the day, I WANT to be a part of God’s plan.  I am privileged to be a part of these kid’s lives.  It’s terrifying sometimes.  I absolutely feel ill-equipped 99% of the time.  But God is faithful, and I want to obey His call.”

I looked around the table as I finished talking and there were tears.  Tears not because anything I said was especially profound but because they knew it was true.  They were struggling hard.  The pain was too great.  The cost was too high.  They were losing hope.  Satan was winning the battle.  But in that moment, all together, we stopped and we prayed.  We filled that room with our tears and our cries for answers. We asked God to bring victory when with our human minds we only saw defeat.  We asked for more of His Presence and His Power and His Favor and His Strength.  

We went to battle.  Not today Satan.  You aren’t winning this one.

******************************************************

I never wanted to be a missionary.  I fought God hard for a good several years about it. I told Him over and over that He picked the wrong girl.  I had a plan, and it didn’t include another country.  It didn’t include leaving my family and saying goodbye to my life and my dreams and my friends.  I didn’t want to save the world.  I wanted a simple life.  Basically I wanted the same life my parents had and had given me (with the exception of a few more kids because I was always a little salty that they only had 2). 

I never would have dreamed 17 years ago that this would be my life, and if I am being totally transparent, if I would have known at the time, I probably would have tried fighting harder or never stepped on the plane to come to Guatemala in the first place.  If I battle fear now, its nothing compared to the fear that regularly reared its ugly head in my late teens and early twenties.  I would have been scared out of my mind and would have gone running in any other direction besides this one.

But that is the thing about God.  There is a reason He doesn’t lay out the whole picture right from the start.  He knows it would feel too big or too hard or too lonely or too scary.  He only asks us to be obedient in each step, and as we are obedient, He also over and over again continues to prove Himself more than faithful.  We see Him whisper soft words when we need guidance. We see Him part waters when we need favor.  We see Him calm the storm when we feel like we can’t go on.  

We say yes.  He sustains us all the way.

As my husband said, He knows His Father and he knows that He is so very good.

And you want to know the very best part?  

The best part is it is ALWAYS better than we think it is going to be anyway.  It may also be harder.  This is true. It may cost more than we want to pay at times.  But it is also sweet and good and rich and wonderful.  It’s a railroad track lined with both hard and good simultaneously.  

If I hadn’t of said yes and if I didn’t continue to say yes, I wouldn’t know the joy of hearing “Sarita!!” a dozen times a day. I wouldn’t know the depth of the love I could feel for girls that I didn’t birth from my body but are as near to my heart as daughters could ever be.  I wouldn’t know the equal parts grief and blessing to hug a biological mother as she has to say goodbye for another month to her children…grieving not getting to be with them but also knowing that she still has steps to take in order for her home to be safe place once again for her babies.  I wouldn’t know the richness of seeing the impossible become possible.  I wouldn’t have seen the miracle of healing over and over again in the lives of children…the sensation of hearing the doctor say, “ I have never seen anything like this!” 

If I hadn’t of said yes, I wouldn’t have my beloved first-born son or even the other two for that matter.  I wouldn’t know my husband and experience his steady, faithful, immense love for Jesus and for me and our family. 

Yes, this life is hard.  Yes I feel scared many days.  I may always walk that line between fear and trusting God.  I have set up my Ebenezer stones along the way, and yet somehow I still fall into the trap of wondering if the next thing God asks of me will be more than I can bear.  Will I have the strength to cross the river?  Will I have the ability to withstand the battle?

But the answer to the “Why” will always be the same. 

Because saying Yes to God is always the right decision. Because I don’t want to miss out on one second of all He has prepared for us.  I don’t want to go back.  I don’t want to close my eyes.  I want to see and taste and hear all the goodness He still has in store for those who love Him.  And because I want to see with my own eyes and continue to experience first hand the joy that comes with seeing vulnerable children and broken families finally drink from the living water that is Jesus Christ. 

What is the yes God is asking of you?

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When It Is No Longer Enough

Hello little corner of the Internet…

It sure has been a while.  I honestly wasn’t sure if I would even remember my password to get into this blog, but thank you Safari for remembering for me.  I heard recently that blogging and blogs in general are dying. You have to have a fancy website and a relatively large platform for anyone to even take the time to read anything you write.  This may be true.  I have no idea.  I don’t really care anyway.  

The truth is the reason I have abandoned the blog has way more to do with not knowing how to stay truthful and vulnerable without passing into “oversharing” than whether or not anyone is reading this.  I only ever wrote as an outlet to share what God was doing in my personal life and in my ministry here in Guatemala, so I figured the ones that wanted to read it would, and those that didn’t, wouldn’t.

No.  My problem was and still is I want to tell the truth.  I don’t want to sugar coat the hard stuff or gloss over the pain.  I want to say the things that sometimes make us uncomfortable, and I want to be honest about my own struggles as well. At the same time, though, I don’t want to fall into the trap of thinking that the whole world has a right to know everything in the name of “vulnerability” and that being self-deprecating is not only cool but a necessary way to get people to read our stuff. 

No thanks.  

I still don’t have the answer to my dilemma, so until I do, I imagine my blogs will still be sporadic at best.

Today, though, I need to share something that has been bubbling for sometime.  Because I KNOW that I am not the only one struggling with this.  And I am CERTAIN that someone else needs this reminder.  

It’s been a little over 2 years since our lives were totally changed, and Hubs and I took over as directors of our ministry here in Guatemala.  Those that walked with us during that transition know that it not only came as a complete surprise, but also that it was a very difficult season for us personally, spiritually, and professionally. I think most people assume that finally get to be at the top of the ministry you have served and loved for over a decade would be the icing on the cake, but for us it was hard.  It was sad.  We experienced hurt.  We walked through new emotions like feelings of abandonment and betrayal.  We often felt confused, scared, and inadequate. 

It will forever be one of those seasons that leaves its mark on us forever.  

One thing that we learned for sure, though, is that God is faithful.  He is perfect.  And He is a good, good Father.  

So while a lot of healing had to happen in our hearts and at times even with others, God was and continues to be faithful.  He continued to awe and surprise us at every juncture, reminding us that we weren’t in this alone and that He was ultimately the One in charge. We only needed to continue to obey and say YES as He continued to call us out into more unfamiliar and at times rough waters.  

A couple of weeks ago, though, I had another one of those time stands still, mark this moment kind of experiences.  Without sharing all the intimate details, I will say that it involved one of my children sharing some very honest feedback with a trusted adult about me.  It came from a place of love and not of hurt or even anger, but the root of what was being shared was that my children felt like they had a Mama that was either too busy/absent doing her ministry work or was physically present in the home but impatient, frustrated, and often resorting to things like yelling and losing her cool.   Praise God that this trusted adult loves my children and me enough to speak honestly with me about this conversation because otherwise I never would have even known.

But let me say it was one of the most painful and humiliating experiences of my life.  It wrecked me.  I felt devastated, worthless, like a failure.

Unfortunately, though, life doesn’t actually stop and time doesn’t really stand still when we are confronted with these kind of life changing moments.  So while internally, I was trying to come to grips with this revelation, I didn’t actually have time for 2 more days to really process and grieve what I had heard. 

Nevertheless, when the floodgates finally opened, they opened, and I wept like I hadn’t wept maybe ever.  It was the kind of grief that I have only experienced when I have lost a loved one.   Even physically I was wrecked, as it was followed by a migraine and vomiting.  The problem for me at the time was I couldn’t even put words to what I was experiencing.  What exactly was I crying about?  Why did I feel as if I was mourning someone or something?  I didn’t know.  All I knew was that hearing that my children felt that way had confirmed all my worst fears about being in full-time ministry.  

And I just didn’t know what to do!  “Do I quit my job?  Do I stay home with the kids full time?  Do I pull back my hours?  God what do I do?????  Please just tell me what to do!”  These were the only muffled words I could articulate over the next few hours. (Praise Jesus my kids were at school, so I could do all this in the privacy of my home by myself.)  

I honestly don’t know what Jacob felt like as he wrestled with God, but that is the closest picture I can use to describe what that morning felt like for me.  About 5 hours into this battle or struggle or grieving process (I still don’t have a name for it), my husband sends me a text.  

“My lady, I just got this text from C.  She said that during a time of prayer and intercession this morning, God laid this word on her heart for you.”

Now before I share with you what she said, I need to clarify that I have only met C. a handful of times.  We have never had an actual one on one conversation and have only been in each other’s presence in a large group of people.  She has worked with Hubs organizing a few activities for the kids at our ministry, but that’s it.  

But on this very morning, as I was struggling to understand what God was doing with me, she received this word from Him for me…

“When you see yourself with too much responsibility and you look around and see the huge ministry that God has given you, and you begin to think that you are not prepared and that someone else could being doing it better, remember these words.  I AM THE GOD OF ABRAHAM, ISAAC, AND JACOB, AND I SAY TO YOU: I chose you.  I called you Sara.  I have prepared you. I have equipped you.  You will be the mother of many that I love.  And as you love them, they will experience my love as if I was wrapping them each in a hug.  I love and protect those than love and care for my orphaned sons and daughters.  YOU ARE CALLED SARA BECAUSE SINCE YOUR YOUTH YOU WILL BE THE MOTHER OF MANY!”

Wow.  That was all I could say as I read these words.  The tears had stopped because I physically was unable to produce more, but I was in shock.

I need you all to understand that I grew up in a very conservative, Southern Baptist church.  I never understood this business of having “a Word from the Lord.”  The only Word that I believed to be true was the Bible itself. But after living in another country for most of my adult life, I understand now that yes the Bible is the only inerrant Word of God.  Nevertheless, God does speak to us today, and we would be missing out big time if we ignored these words as well.  

Because how else do you explain a word that powerful and that timely from an almost stranger during the exact time of a major spiritual crisis?? 

Only God.  Only He can do the impossible.

I wish I could say that this opportune encouragement fixed it all for me.  I suddenly had all the answers, and I suddenly understood exactly what I had to do. 

No friends that did not happen.  

What did happen, though, was that I was reminded that God loved me. He loves me.  He lavishly loves me, and that He sees me.  My grief matters to him in that same way that my kids’ grief matters to me.  

Only it matters even more because He is not only my Father but also my Creator and nothing, nothing about me goes unnoticed.  

I can take my troubles and anguish to Him and not only will He comfort me as any good Daddy does, but He has the actual answers to my problems as well.  

It has taken me a couple of weeks to understand what was happening inside of me that day.  Even though I found comfort in the care of my good, good Father in heaven, I still didn’t understand what exactly I was supposed to do.  Knowing God loved me and was with me still didn’t answer my questions as to what I was being asked to do specifically.  

Was I ruining my children?  Could I still be in ministry and be a good wife and mother?  Was I even supposed to do both?  

It came slow but it came.  There is no formula, but as I just sat quiet and listened, the whisper came.

Trust.  He was asking me to trust Him.

He showed me that the last 2 years, I have desperately been trying to do everything physically in my power to protect my husband and our family and this ministry against unfair criticism or painful disparagement.  I overworked myself to make sure that the pain and betrayal we felt 2 years ago never happened again.  Without anyone’s permission, I propped myself up as the ultimate defender of my husband and his leadership and our ministry.  

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my husband to do a good job. Truthfully, he has become a better leader than I could have ever imagined.  He is faithful, honest, just, generous, true, and lavishly loves his people and our kids.  God has taken him to heights I never thought possible.  Our ministry continues to grow and mature because my husband starts and ends every day the same, on his knees asking God to lead him so he can lead others well.  

No.  My self-imposed position as a Defender of All was from one thing: fear.  Fear of being hurt.  Fear of being abandoned.  Fear of being betrayed.  Fear of getting it wrong.  

So I worked too hard.  I spent too many day and night hours trying to find the right solutions. I attended every meeting, every conference, and every seminar.  If someone called and needed help, I was there.  I did everything physically possible to be in all places at all times so no one would have any reason to hurt us again with their words.  

Except guess what?!  Some people did anyway.  Why you ask? Because people are people…yesterday, today, tomorrow…people are still people.  The Israelites complained about Moses, David, and everyone in between.  The disciples heard it.  Paul was imprisoned over it.  And lest we forget, Jesus was killed because of it.  

Sometimes people criticize because they are right and something does need to change and as leaders we need to always be surrounding ourselves with people that will tell us the truth even when it hurts.  I love when Moses’ father in law gently tells Moses that he needs help.  He is trying to do too much.  Nathan did the same for David.  

But sometimes people criticize because they just are hurt or jealous or because they don’t have the whole story.  

In the end, it doesn’t really matter why they do.  What matters is that we have a choice in how we respond to it.  

I decided to work myself silly, hurting myself and my family in the process, in hopes that it could be avoided.  Some people get angry and lash out at others.  Some people get insecure and start making decisions just to please the majority.  Some just ignore it completely and continue on their merry way.  

The best leaders, though, I think learn how to receive it, chew on it, and swallow what is good and helpful and spit out that which was only said with intentions of tearing down and dividing.  

Good leaders understand that criticism is part of the package. We can’t run away from it, and we can’t even defend or protect ourselves against it.  But more than that, good leaders, and I would say good spouses, parents, teachers, friends, and neighbors also understand that we will never on this earth be everything to everyone.  We shouldn’t be.  We are getting it all wrong if we think we are.  

Only God can be their all.  

What God does is He invites us in.  We get to stop being spectators and get to start participating. We get to actually get sweaty and dirty and experience the thrill of the game.  But we also will get hurt.  We will be disappointed.  We will be offended. We will even mess up.  Some people may stop liking us in the process.  Some brothers and sisters in Christ may even walk away from us or turn their backs on us when we need them the most.  

But God won’t.  He doesn’t. He extended the invitation, so He will be right there with us the whole time.  We just obey. We just trust Him. We honor Him.  We look to please Him instead of man.   Along the way, we also learn to forgive and to be forgiven.  We understand what true transformation and restoration looks like.  

But this can’t happen until we say Yes…until we RSVP and tell Jesus we are all in.  We show up. We get it wrong and sometimes we get it right.  

I have been messing up big time.   I thought I could do it by myself.  I thought that I was strong enough, smart enough, godly enough, nice enough, and a plethora of other “enoughs.” But I am not.   And part of the consequences of thinking I was enough came in hearing some very painful words from my own children, and then having to look in the mirror and realize that not only were the words painful but they were true.  

I tried so hard to avoid giving anyone any reason to criticize when the most painful criticism of all came from my most beloved ones.  

But there is hope.  

I am Sara.  I was called by God.  I was chosen by Him.  He prepared me and equipped me.  He goes before me.   I am His and only His.  

He has called me by name.  Sara.  He loves me. He knows me.  He chooses me.  

And that, well, that is enough.  

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My Citizenship

If I am honest, the truth is I was becoming a bit disenchanted or even cynical.  I could talk the talk.  I knew the right things to say.  I knew how to act and respond.  I loved Jesus, and I desperately longed to live a life that glorified Him, but I was frustrated.  I was so busy DOING that I had no time for just BEING.  Church was just another place I had a job to do.  Bible study was just another thing I had to lead.  Retreats were just another thing I had to prepare. 

While this wasn’t true for my ministry, it was true for my personal relationship with Christ.  Thankfully I think what kept me afloat was I believed so fully in what God had called us to do here in Guatemala.  I loved (and still love of course) these kids so much that for them I wanted better and more.  I desperately longed for them to taste and see that despite all the horror they may have seen or experienced God was and is still good.  He was and is for them.  He loves them with a lavish and unconditional love.  So I kept moving and pushing forward.  I believed that God would continue to sustain me as long as I continued to be obedient. 

But then I would have these flashbacks to seasons past when I was consumed with God’s word and when prayer was such an active and constant part of my daily life.  I missed filling journals with prayers and promises from the Bible.  I missed the intimacy that I felt walking so closely with Christ.

And to be totally frank, part of my frustration was caused by what I believed I was seeing in many Christians and in many churches which was an utter betrayal to what Christ had commanded us to do.    Now before I get thrown to the wolves, hear me out.  I am not saying this WAS happening…I am only saying this was my perception.  I saw Christians more concerned for their own welfare, their own comfort, their own advancement, their own success, and just their own general well-being than that of their neighbor.  I heard more often things like, “Well we can’t save them all!” or “I have to do what is best for my own family and can’t worry about them.” or even worse “They brought it upon themselves.  If they just would have made a better decision, they wouldn’t be in this situation.”

I get it.  Sometimes I feel like I am barely keeping my head above water with my own crew.  How am I supposed to find room to care about someone else’s?  There is even some truth to these statements…we can’t save them all and we do have take care of our family (of course we do), and sometimes people do make poor decisions that have grave consequences.   But what I was struggling with was that everyone wants to lament about the state of affairs these days but rarely is anyone ever ready to get into the trenches and do something about it. 

Where is the church?  I just kept asking myself over and over again…church where are you?  I am only looking at this need here in Guatemala, but I know it is everywhere, and I am not seeing the church rise up and do something about it.  Luke 10:2 says, “And he said to them, ‘The harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few.  Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” 

I read verses like this one and thought, “But the workers shouldn’t be few.  The churches are filled with workers!  Why aren’t they going into the harvest?  Why are they so comfortable when there is so much suffering?  Why aren’t they willing to do anything?!”

I was fast tracking it straight from disillusioned to flat out angry and broken.  I recognized the symptoms and decided the first step was to take some time away from social media.  It was only making things worse for me, and I realized that I couldn’t judge everything just from Facebook.  I needed to take some to hear from the Lord on what MY responsibility was.  I needed to be refreshed. I was tired. I was worn down.  I felt like the burden was too heavy and there was no one to help us carry it.   

And then the unexpected happened.   My little social media fast was fine, and I learned a few lessons (namely just delete the folks and pages that only bring discouragement.  No reason to fill our lives with background noise that distract from the important stuff), but in the end, it wasn’t the enlightenment I had hoped it would be. 

Something else ended up doing that instead.  My daddy got sick.  Really sick.  It started as a small, rather routine thing and the next thing I know he is being rushed to emergency surgery because he has gone septic and all his vitals are dropping.  I was still in Guatemala as this was all happening.  My mom and sister were keeping me updated but because everything happened so fast, I didn’t even have a chance to get on an airplane to try and be there with him.  It went from not that serious to life threatening in the span of just a few hours.  All I could think about was how a few years ago, my beloved grandpa went into the hospital for a nosebleed and a few days later died, and I never got to say goodbye. 

I was so scared but more than scared I was angry.  I was angry with God.  I had all the words with Him.  I shouted things like, “I never wanted to be a missionary anyway!  I only did it because YOU asked me to!  Why can’t I just live with my family like everyone else in the world gets to?! Why do I have to make this sacrifice?  This isn’t fair! I don’t want this!”  I even had a moment that I was planning my speech for my husband about how I was packing up and moving back home because I had already done my part, sacrificed my portion, and it was time for me to do what I wanted.  

I was in a bad place.  That’s the truth.

But what frightened me the most, as I started to come out of the fog of the fear and the anger and the confusion and the sadness was that I also wasn’t willing to sacrifice what I loved most for Jesus.  When the time actually came, when the hour struck midnight, I wasn’t ready to trade in my carriage and pretty dress for the rags.  I wasn’t willing to pay the price.  I didn’t care that Jesus said, “and everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands, for my name’s sake, will receive a hundredfold and will inherit eternal life.”  (Matthew 19:29)  I didn’t care that I had often prayed to God in my youth, “Send me Lord!  Use me Lord!  Yes Lord whatever You say, YES!”  None of that mattered anymore.  It didn’t even matter that I actually did love what we were doing and that these kids were such a part of my life that leaving them behind would have been a near impossibility. 

The only thing I could see was that my beloved daddy was sick, he could have died, and I wasn’t there.  

My favorite chapter in the Bible is Romans 8.  It has been for so many years that I have almost every verse underlined or highlighted.   When I am feeling the most vulnerable or scared or confused, I always go back there and read those words that I have etched on my heart over and over again until they are like a soothing balm over my wounds.  So this situation was no different than any other.  The only thing that changed was that instead of staying in Romans 8, I kept on reading in Romans 9. 

Paul says in verses 1 through 3, “I am speaking the truth in Christ –I am not lying; my conscience bears me witness in the Holy Spirit – that I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, my kinsmen according to the flesh.”  He goes on to talk more about why, but in that moment, reading those words, I could do nothing more than weep.  Paul was willing to be cut off ETERNALLY for the sake of his brothers, for them to know Christ. 

Now it was no longer an issue of giving up earthly possession or sacrificing time or the ability to live close to those I love most.  It wasn’t about whether I had sacrificed enough and “deserved a break.”  It all came into focus.

It was about eternity and not just my eternity but that of my family and my friends and anyone that God has placed in my circle.   I said, “Yes Lord” all those years ago because I believed that my yes could have eternal consequences.  I believed God could use my little life in a way that would bring Him glory and would show others His beautiful and great worth.  I was willing to be “poured out as a drink offering” because I knew that my relationship with Jesus was so valuable and so wonderful and so indispensable that I wanted every single person to have this relationship too.

God as always was so gentle and loving with me, though, because in the midst of my spiritual crisis and battle with Him about having taken away these years with my family, He gave me the most incredible gift.  In the most unexpected and surprising of ways, He provided the opportunity for me to still be able to go and spend a week with my daddy all by myself.  It was a surprise for my family too.  They had no idea I was coming until I was literally standing right there in the room with them.  It was sweet and wonderful and unexpected and beautiful, and it filled my heart with so much joy.  God saw my pain and He provided. 

It won’t always be that way, though.  Sometimes I am just going to have to walk through the pain and there won’t be a sweet little surprise at the end of it.  Sometimes I will just have to cling to Him and help Him lead me through the darkness.  There is a very real possibility that I could lose someone again while I am here and not be able to get back in time.  I will face more loss. I will face more pain.  There will be more goodbyes. And it is going to hurt.

But as I read Paul’s words, I am reminded over and over again that it is a cost I am willing to pay.  I may not always like it and it may hurt, but the eternity of those I love most matters so much more than whether or not I am comfortable or even safe or even happy.  Yes, I said that too.  Being happy isn’t everything friends.  We are a culture obsessed with happily ever after’s, and we will trade jobs or degrees or even spouses until we find it.  But it isn’t everything. 

Church, Christians, friends, we need to wake up.  The harvest is plentiful and the workers are few.  All the things you are doing, all the money you are making, all the vacations you are taking, all the fun you are having, all the trophies you are winning, and even all the memories you are making with your family…all of it will someday be gone.  You can’t take any of it with you to eternity.  It is all good. I am not against any of those things. Money isn’t the enemy and we all need it to live.  Vacations are some of my most favorite things in this world.  I am a big fan of fun, and I love winning trophies because I am more competitive than I would like to admit.  And the memories…oh those memories are so good and so sweet and are leaving seeds and planting a legacy far beyond what we can even imagine.  But even those only last as long as a person is on earth and can remember them. 

We were made for more.  God called us for more.  There is a reason Paul wrote most of the New Testament.  He was fully man but also fully aware that his home was not this earth.  His home was the one God prepared for him.  His home was with Jesus.  And he was not going to give up or stop or give in until God took him home.  He wanted all his brothers near and far to know and to share in this good news. 

Are we willing?  Are we willing to follow Paul’s and ultimately Christ’s example of obedience no matter the cost?  Is Jesus worth that for us?  Or do we claim to belong to him in name only? 

Paul writes in Philippians 3:17 – 21,

“Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us.  For many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things.  But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.”

Our citizenship is in heaven.  It isn’t here.  Love hard.  Work hard.  Play hard.  Grieve hard even.  We can and I believe should feel deeply and passionately.  Our relationships should be deep.  But we just can’t forget that this, here on earth, isn’t the end.  And if we live as if it is the end, the consequences will in fact have eternal repercussions. 

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Hocking Some Loogies

Last week I had to fly back to the states for some board meetings for our organization.  Initially, I was somewhat excited about it.  I have only traveled sans kids like once in the last 9 years.  So it seemed a bit like a fun little adventure that might include Starbucks and Target.

As time got closer to the actual trip, though, I started to have one my typical “Sara Freak outs.”  This was partially due to some last minute travel details falling through, but in large part, it was just due to the fact that I tend to freak out before traveling.  Despite the fact that I travel by airplane more than the average person, I really do suffer from travel anxiety.  Most of the time, I am able to manage this bout of anxiousness with lots of prayers, lots of trips to the bathroom (TMI ???), and lots of “mind over matter” kind of exercises. 

So it was not at all out of the ordinary for me to be lying in bed with Hubby the night before my trip overanalyzing all of the possible “worst case scenarios” that could potentially happen to the kids or me while we were separated.  Hubs knows me well so a back rub and some prayers calmed the storm that was beginning to brew in my head, and thankfully I was able to get some sleep.

To make an excruciatingly long story short, travel day ended up being one of my worst trips yet and culminated into me standing in the Atlanta airport at like 1am with no place to go, no option of staying inside the airport (it was like 11 degrees that night outside), and no hotels within a 45 mile radius even answering the phone…oh and no US cell phone to even be able to make phone calls.  I frantically used Facebook to make my SOS calls, posting to my wall in hopes that someone, somewhere could help me.  My anxiety was in full throttle.  I was panicking and only barely able to keep my tears from spilling all over the very nice Guatemalan man that refused to let me stay by myself until he was certain I had somewhere to go.  God bless him!

Thankfully I have awesome friends and so many folks that love me and know me well enough to meet me in my state of frantic. A dear sister drove almost an hour to pick me up at the airport and gave me sweet refuge at her home. (Her mama even had a delicious meal waiting for me upon arrival…at like 2:30am).

All ended up being fine, and I went to bed feeling so grateful for God’s care over me but also for the reminder that most people (strangers and friends alike) are really good and really generous and that sometimes those moments when we feel like we are spinning are the moments that we get to see how God really did create us for community and fellowship.

“All is well that ends well,” goes that old saying, right?

Not always.

Hubs sends me a message the next day that said something to the effect of, “Glad you are okay.  I knew it would all be fine.  I love you.  Have a great rest of your trip. But, can you stop talking about how bad it was on Facebook now.”

“What?” I didn’t even know what he was talking about.

Later in the day, some well-meaning friends start the teasing about how in hindsight, though, it really was just a “first world problem” and how I might have been treading that invisible “over-sharing” line on social media with all my posts about my travel troubles.  They definitely don't mean any harm with their comments, and I know they just like to give me a hard time because they love me, but it definitely awakens something in me. 

When I get a few minutes alone, I anxiously read through all my posts from the day before.  How many did I actually post?  Did I sound too desperate?  Was I making a big deal out of nothing?  Was I over sharing?  Should I have handled it differently?  Why can’t I handle things better?

I was giving myself a good, internal butt whooping.  I decided to go through and delete most of the posts.  I wiped the few tears that had managed to escape from my eyes and pulled up the bootstraps and tried to just move on from the whole debacle.

But internally I still wrestled.  I thought about those people I know on social media that post the endless selfies.  I remembered what other friends said about them.  I thought about the folks that “like” their own posts and a scathing post another friend wrote about people that do that.  I thought about those friends whose posts are mostly complaints or grievances and how annoyed I have felt by them in the past.  Basically I just climbed down into one big, dark social media hole. I made jokes about my “over sharing” and tried to blow the whole thing off as no big deal once I was back in Guatemala, but the whole thing just kept gnawing at me.

This morning I was reading in John.  I have been spending lots of time in the Gospels because frankly more than anything, I have just wanted to hang with Jesus.  I wanted to keep walking with Him.  And there is no better place to do that than through reading through the Gospels.

Today I found myself in John 9.  It’s like 41 verses long, so I am not going to write it all here, but I highly encourage you to go read it.  I seriously laughed out loud more than once while reading it this morning.

The gist is that there is a blind man who has been blind since birth.  The chapter starts with Jesus’ disciples arguing about whether or not this man was blind due to his own sin or because of something his parents had done.

First of all, he totally can hear them.  And I am pretty sure I would have been much more spikey and said something like, “Hey guys! I am blind, not deaf. I can hear you talking about me.”  But blind guy is already a way more self-controlled person than I am, so he just keeps chilling while Jesus gives his disciples a good talking to.

But then Jesus comes over and spits on the ground.  The Bible says that he literally “spat on the ground.”

Quick pause.

So in eighth grade, on the way to a softball game with my friend and her parents, I was sitting in the seat directly behind the driver.  The windows were all down, and her dad decided he needed to “hock a loogie” out the window.  Well we were driving pretty fast down a back road highway, and this “loogie” did not stay outside but instead came back through the back window and landed squarely on my forehead.

It was the epitome of disgusting.

So let’s just say my mind goes to Jesus basically “hocking a loogie” on the ground here.   Jesus then takes this spit and mixes it with the dirt and rubs it on the blind guy’s eyes.  I am not sure if this was a “loogie” or just spit but either way, I can attest that this will not feel that pleasant on your face.  It probably feels gross.   Jesus tells him to go wash his face.

This miracle mixture heals the blind man.  Yay!

But the chapter goes on and the Pharisees in general Pharisee fashion start freaking out.  One because Jesus did this on the Sabbath and two because they still are not yet ready to recognize that Jesus is in fact the Son of God.  Nevertheless, what ensues I found to be quite comical.  The Pharisees can’t come to a logical conclusion so they decide that the blind man must not have actually been blind, so they call his parents to get proof that this is all just one big charade.  The parents are like, “No clue who healed him but he was in fact blind since birth.  Why don’t you just ask him how it happened?  He is old enough to tell you himself.”

Cue Pharisees going back to blind man to interrogate him once again on how he regained his sight. By this point, the now seeing blind man is feeling a bit more spicy (yay for that) and says, “Guys, seriously, I ALREADY TOLD YOU! Do you want me to tell you again?” (If I could give him a standing ovation here, I probably would.)

The whole conversation ends with the Pharisees saying, in my words, “Whatever man. Who are you to even tell us what to think?  Get out of here!” Blind man then leaves. The Bible doesn’t mention where he goes just that the Pharisees kicked him out of their presence.

Now, obviously I don’t know this guy.  But if I were he, I am pretty sure I wouldn’t be feeling so great about myself at this point.  I am a HSP (Highly Sensitive Person), so I would be overanalyzing every event from that day so far.

“Let’s see, the day started with me overhearing those guys, that are always hanging around with that other guy Jesus, talk about whether or not my condition was my own fault or my parents.  The Jesus guy then hocks a loogie on the ground and uses it to make some sort of miracle potion that helps me see.  They leave, and I am left to defend myself to those haughty Pharisee guys.  They have the audacity to bring my parents into the mix and even after all that still wouldn’t believe my story and decided to just go ahead and kick me out! Talk about a crappy day”

This is my version of how that would have went down in my head, but I am guessing I am not too far off. 

Thankfully this isn’t the end of the story, though.

The most beautiful thing happens.  Jesus finds him and meets him in his mess of brokenness and confusion and maybe even hurt.  Jesus meets him there, and He gives him something even greater than his physical sight.  Blind man’s spiritual eyes are opened too and he can see that Jesus is Lord, and he worships Him.

Not gonna lie. I got a bit teary with this whole scene this morning.  I laughed and then I cried because well sometimes that is just how life goes.  

The heart of the matter is, though, that Jesus met me in my brokenness today too.  He reminded me that my weakness does not make me unqualified.  I get anxious about silly stuff sometimes.  I, more than I should, get worked up about stuff that is little and can be fixed.  I make a bigger deal out of things than I should.  I walk way to close to the line of “worst case scenario.”

I am prideful. I am sinful.  I am still in need of a Savior to come and gently meet me where I am.  I need Him to see me and my junk and to gently and lovingly remind me that He has saved me. I have new eyes to see. 

And then I need to worship Him.

It was really quite a beautiful moment for me.  Nevertheless, though, I still felt a bit of a sting as I was watching those Pharisees carry on.  How many times have I judged those selfies or “likes” or over shares on social media as being self-absorbed?  How many times have I rolled my eyes?  The Pharisees were desperate to find an answer to what they felt was a very complex question, “How can this once blind man now see?”

The answer was simple, Jesus.

When we see people in their weakness or brokenness or hurt or pain or confusion…when we see people giving us glimpses of their weaknesses, we have 2 choices. We can mock them in it.  Sure maybe we don’t do it out loud but I am guessing ALL of us have done it in our heads.  “Look at that basket case! What a mess she is?!” or “Here we go again.  Always drama!”

Or we can pick a better way.   We can pray for them.  We can show them a Jesus that meets them in their brokenness.  We don’t have to fix them.  That isn’t our job.  We don’t even have to have all the answers for them. 

Jesus says to the blind man in verse 39, “For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind.” At this point, the Pharisees panic, thinking that he is talking about them, to which Jesus replies, “If you were blind, you would have no guilt, but now that you say, ‘We see’ your guilt remains.”

Those of us that know Jesus Christ have been given sight.  We are no longer blind.   But having that sight also gives us a responsibility.   We have a responsibility to not keep walking around like we are still blind!

Additionally, it should also mean that we are not ashamed when our own weaknesses are revealed.  We don’t quickly try and delete those weaknesses away for fear of being found out.  We instead stop and stay still and wait because we are assured beyond all doubt that we have a Savior and a Lord who will meet us right where we are at.  He may not “hock a loogie” to rub over our eyes, but with certainty we can trust that He will give us sight to see what we may have been blind to once before.

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