My Question is Why

It's been a long time since my last post. And I've been traversing the country and world between now and then. I've learned a lot of things. Maybe I'll be able to share some of them sometime…

I've met many people this summer between ASI and YD and GYC Europe.
Some were old acquaintances, some were new.

I was privileged to hear many of their stories. Many were filled with life and joy and hope. But I also listened to accounts of broken heart after broken heart, broken home after broken home. And as I did, one question haunted me…

Why?

Why am I so blessed?

Why was I born into a Christian home?

Why was I born in a country of religious freedom?
Why have I escaped the all-too-common broken heart syndrome?

Why was I allowed to homeschool without authorities knocking on my door?

Why do I live in a home where my parents still love each other and love me even after 23 years?

Why am I so blessed?

I've pondered that question the entire summer.

The truth is, I've been blessed, not because I'm more special than any other individual on the planet, not because I've merited it and not because my parents were good people.

I have been blessed for this reason only…

…that I might be able to live my life to bless others without distraction.*

"Freely ye have received, freely give." {Matthew 10:8}


* Note: I do face personal trials and struggles on a daily basis, but all are relative when you compare them with the Cross. 

Poured Out [The Filling]

There she stands, her frail body framed by splintered doorposts, her face covered with salty tears. Her body shakes in silent sobs. Life seems to be giving her nothing but sorrow.

Her husband is dead. Her house furnishings have been taken by greedy creditors.
And besides that, now they want her two beloved sons.*

Yet the prophet asks a simple question. Gives simple instructions.

She returns to her home, shuts her door. In her hands she holds the cruse of oil.
It is her last link to hope. And she dares to hope.
She dares to pour. And pour out freely.

And in that one action, a miracle is wrought. A new future is born.

--

Somehow I see my heart in that cruse of oil.
Just enough to start a stream. But not near enough to keep it going.

Yet when I dare to pour, dare to pour out my life freely, a miracle is wrought.
A new future is born. New life springs forth.

In the pouring out, I am filled.

* 2 Kings 4:1-7

Faces of the Rejected

{Jeremiah 49}

Precious people abandoned in the ruins of cities and rubble of villages. Faces haunting the desolated landscape. Faces lined with pain, traced with fear. Faces of the rejected.

These are the orphans, the widows, the maimed, the sick. These are the ones to whom favor is shown.

They are some of His most precious children of all. They have nothing, yet they have all.

“Leave the fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.”

And these next six weeks I get to interact with these very ones… 

Orphanage. Honduras. Here I come!

We Call It Sacrifice?

{Jeremiah 33}

“…and of them that shall bring the sacrifice of praise into the house of the Lord…”

I rest back into my chair and mull over this phrase.

We call a lot of things sacrifice. Giving a miserly amount for missions. Setting down a good book to go help our parents with a project. Speaking to someone who’s feeling lonely when we would rather be conversing with friends. Spending a day helping at the homeless shelter. Adhering to healthy lifestyle principles just because we know it’s good for us. Putting aside our selfish nature for the benefit of others.

We call this sacrifice. And I rebel.

Because if Christ truly has our hearts, the above is not sacrifice; it’s joy. Pure joy.

When the wellspring of Christ’s joy is in our hearts, to give is to gain; to obey is our pleasure; to share is our song. 

It’s an all-consuming pursuit of happiness of the eternal variety.

And praise? For the Israelites it was embodied in a physical offering, yet there is also the verbal aspect.

We often pride ourselves, thinking we declare our praise and adoration quite often.

We praise God when we call on Him and He shows us great and mighty things. We praise God for healing. We praise God for the big things in our lives. And to us, it seems no sacrifice. The blessings are so obvious.


But what about the things we take for granted? Or perhaps the things that don’t appear to be blessings?

Little things.

Like a minute of sun piercing through the clouds. Like a plethora of Bibles sitting on our shelf. Like instructive criticism from a caring mother. Like golden tamarack trees dotting the hillsides. Like a toothbrush. Like giving to sustain and educate a girl across the world. Like the gift of learning. Even like trials and temptations, suffering and pain, heartache and tears.

Yes, all these are worthy of our gratitude and praise. Through the eyes of the Infinite we can view even the thorniest valley as a gift from the Giver. And we mustn’t forget to pour out our hearts in thanks to the Giver Himself…

With all that He has done for us, praise is no sacrifice; to give is pure joy.

He Gives Again. . .

{Jeremiah 11}

It was no light matter. They had persisted in their course of wickedness.
The mercy of God had given. The justice of God must also give.

Consequences always follow disobedience.
Sometimes the results are unrecognized until distant future, yet always they exist.

There is nothing that pains God more than having to chastise His treasures.

Cursed though they were, hope and forgiveness were still extended from the Giver’s hand.
He would not give up on them until the last ray of melting mercy disappeared below the horizon of grace.
Until the last nail was driven into His palms. Until the last shout of “Crucify” faded into silent history.

And then, it would only be the people as a whole.
Individuals will ever move His heart to give again…

and again, and again…