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Same purpose, same heart, but a different name…
In Wilmington, where I live along the North Carolina coast, it finally looks like fall. The leaves on our trees are finally changing colors and beginning to drop. And it’s December! In Wilmington, which has far more pine trees than hardwoods, we don’t see the season change as dramatically as the rest of our state. But change is in the air nonetheless.
Over the summer I began to feel that change was coming in my ministry. Honestly, I haven’t wanted to write…which is both good and bad. It’s good because I often wrote from a place of brokenness and pain. Thank God, He has mostly healed my broken heart.
But not wanting to write is bad because I’m a blogger. Bloggers write.
Sharing is caring. If this post encouraged you, will you share it on Facebook so that it could bless your friends,too? Thanks for helping me to reach more struggling women with encouragement, hope, and grace.Faith chooses to obey God when it absolutely makes no sense
Many exit signs pointed the way to local colleges and universities.
I saw so many of them in just a few miles of travel that I began to wonder if God was speaking to me through the signs.
At one point I looked at an electronic billboard to the left of the highway, and, no joke, it changed before my eyes to a sign advertising going back to school. Talk about surreal.
Sharing is caring. If this post encouraged you, will you share it on Facebook so that it could bless your friends,too? Thanks for helping me to reach more struggling women with encouragement, hope, and grace.How a change of perspective can lead to happiness
Until a white SUV, just like mine, pulled out in front of me.
Sharing is caring. If this post encouraged you, will you share it on Facebook so that it could bless your friends,too? Thanks for helping me to reach more struggling women with encouragement, hope, and grace.The day my car was “inspected” when it really wasn’t
But on this Tuesday at 2:30 pm I was not at home. I was not warm, under the covers, cuddled up with my fluffy friends. I was at the garage. Getting my car inspected. I didn’t have to be there. I was there because I was doing what is right.
Sharing is caring. If this post encouraged you, will you share it on Facebook so that it could bless your friends,too? Thanks for helping me to reach more struggling women with encouragement, hope, and grace.The slave marketplace: A beautiful story of redemption
The day was dark and gloomy as Jesus wandered the city streets. His heart was set on a mission but He wasn’t quite sure yet of the outcome. He was fully God but also fully man, so some things were still hidden to Him. But this He knew: the Holy Spirit was propelling Him to find something. Or someone.
He headed to the market area, and as He drew nearer, He could begin to hear the shouts. It was a place of market, a place of trade, where one exchanged one’s valuables for another person’s goods. It was a place where food, blankets, and fine linens were sold, but as Jesus drew nearer, He saw that the market was also darker and more sinister at one end. It was also a market for people. Slaves. Men and women of flesh and bone, sold into servitude for their debts and crimes.
It was then that he saw her. He could see that at one time she was young and lovely, but today she was grimy and disheveled. She was bound by the wrists and feet by heavy rope that had no hope of being untied. She probably had once struggled against her bonds, but as he looked at her, he saw that hope had long fled her heart and despair had settled in. She sat there in defeat, and all around her were shouts of condemnation.
I love Jesus even if I won’t share your Facebook post
Jesus gives us beauty for ashes – a hopeful look at 2017
You probably faced some difficult challenges and changes in 2016 as well, perhaps in your job, your family, your finances, or your health.
At the end of your days, what legacy will you leave?
At a recent funeral I attended, over and over people talked about how this gentleman would help anyone. The piano teacher shared how when he saw that her yard was unkempt, he came over and mowed her lawn. When he was on the job in downtown Wilmington, he met an elderly man and renovated his home. For free. He always took tools with him to people’s homes in case they needed him to fix something.
Serving. Giving. Caring. What a legacy.
Dredging up compassion for the suffering and desperate
I’m sitting in a big comfy desk chair staring at my oversized computer screen. Looking back at me is Haitian woman and her child whose home was destroyed by Hurricane Matthew. My home consists of carpet, tastefully painted walls, and a solid roof to keep us protected. Her home is no longer a home, but a thrown together shanty made of broken sheets of iron.
I look at the rubble and trash and rocky ground around her home and I just can’t understand as my home is surrounded by a pristine carpet of St. Augustine grass. I see her shoeless feet standing on the concrete slab and I think of my recently painted purple toe nails. But then I notice in the picture her one year old son standing in the makeshift doorway of her dwelling. He’s naked. And I think, “Where is his diaper?” My western mind hasn’t connected that a shoeless, nearly homeless woman would not be able to buy diapers. Wow.
I continue to stare at her but honestly, I struggle to have compassion for her. I continue staring at the computer screen waiting for compassion to erupt from some deep place in my heart. But it doesn’t. I wait, and still, nothing. It’ difficult for me to dredge up empathy for this poor woman because I cannot relate to her situation. I cannot comprehend her desperation. I have shoes, a home, and children that are dressed head to toe.
I continue to read about this desperate mother, Moline, and her family. She has three children. She sells fish at the nearby beach. Her husband is a fisherman. And then I read a sentence that does produce a reaction in my heart:
“We could not help her and her family…”
And I am cut to the heart. Because, you see, while my heart may struggle with compassion and empathy to relate to a woman I will never know, God’s Holy Spirit lives in me. God knows this shoeless woman that I will never know. He sees her ramshakle dwelling and her diaperless child. He hears the hidden wailings of her heart that I will never hear. He cares for Moline oh so much.
And God sees me. God knows that I have the means to help this woman. He knows that recently one of my monthly bills was eliminated and I have some extra room in my budget. And God knows that when He speaks to me about this money, I will listen. Although I often resist and question, I will eventually obey. Jesus, after all, is my example. God hears the silent prayer of my heart, my surrender, “Not my will, O God, but yours be done.”
My heart is moved to action and these extra funds in my budget will now be sent every month to Haiti Awake, a ministry on the ground in Haiti that helps real families like Moline and her diaperless child. I know that my US dollars will make a sizeable different for families in Haiti. And even though I still may not understand or comprehend their plight, I will make a difference.
I will touch Haiti – not with my hands and feet – but with my heart. God’s heart.
What about you? Is God speaking to your heart to be a monthly supporter of Haiti Awake? They need monthly support they can depend on, which allows them to plan, to grow, and to follow where the Lord is leading. Whether you can share $10, $25, $50 or more, God will use it to care for the Molines and families like hers in Haiti. Please prayerfully consider giving to this ministry. You can donate online using the link below:
or to becoming a monthly supporter, contact Haiti Awake at rick@haitiawake.org.
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