[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lt_WpluguwE]

Sara Groves wrote this song after returning from a trip to Rwanda. For those of you who are not aware, Rwanda has a history of a mass genocide in 1994 in which approximately 800,000 people (approx. 20% of the country’s population) were killed from the country’s internal turmoils (longstanding ethnic competitions and tension between the minority, Tutsi, and majority, Hutu, people). Many women and children were among the victims that lay heaped in large dump sites. But this song was written after Sara Groves witness the Christians within Rwanda’s dedication and efforts to rebuild the communities in Rwanda. These weren’t foreigners coming in to “save someone from themselves”, but Rwandan Christians’ response to the tragedy within their country.

This song has a powerful message that resonates beyond the realms of this country’s tragedy. I can’t get the words of this song out of my head. As God has been changing me I have realized how much of a challenge poverty has placed on me. My obedience to God’s call has so little to do with being unable to financially afford compassion and everything to do with my fears. There are a vast gamut of fears that have in turn kept me from extending the hands of Christ. It’s so easy to get lost in the fears, some very real, of selling yourself out for Christ’s work. And yet Sara Groves speaks the Holy Spirit’s call on our hearts in the truth of God’s love through this song. The line, “Your courage asks me what I’m afraid of and what I know of love. And what I know of God,” burns into me.

What do I know of God? What do I know of love? Me, with Jesus Christ inside me. Me, with hope and promise breeding within me. See, it’s not enough just to get fat on Scripture. It’s not enough to merely be served by Christianity. My belief in love and my belief in God is proved in how far I will extend myself for God. Sometimes it’s easy to see taking one step of faith as enough for a few months. There, God, I extended myself for Your glory, now let me be for a while. But God doesn’t work that way. We can’t manipulate Him like that.

You know, it’s so easy to make excuses as to why serving Christ in the U.S. is so difficult and time consuming and hard. “I just can’t seem to fit it into my schedule,” being a mind-comfort for disobedience. Maybe we can even hide under the “but I’m taking care of this family that you have given me” excuse. Been there, done that. But Christians are so safe here in our country. Our biggest fear is of offending someone, not losing our life for God’s work. And yet we still have our moments, and sometimes months or years, of bench-sitting.

I have been praying to be used for the Kingdom, not just to raise my family to think about God before meals. And it’s a challenge to be changed and grown and matured and pushed by God. It’s hard to explain the heart of God to those that don’t seem to be growing or changing or moving in the same direction as myself. Certainly condemnation is not to be handed out from my lips for obvious moments of apathy among friends. (Sure glad no one did that to me.) That’s not my job. But it’s really an uncomfortable place to be in to feel compelled by God amongst comfortable-with-where-we-are people. It must be what it’s like to be a missionary coming back to the States for presentations. How can I possibly sum up God’s heart in a pretty package of pictures that will motivate others to reckless abandonment for God’s glory? It’s like that conversation where the other person in nodding their head and yet you know they’ve already checked out. (How many times have I done that?)

I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t know how to motivate others’ hearts. I don’t think that’s my job. And yet I feel compelled to not be silent. I can’t contain this kind of change into a pretty package. I am having a hard enough time rectifying how I have lived the way I have in the past, let alone encouraging others to give more of themselves for the Gospel. This IS the Gospel – giving of ourselves for the glory of God.

It is changing.
molding.
remodeling.
and cleaning out the old junk that doesn’t belong here.

Because there’s only room for Jesus thoughts that spur obedience.

I must decrease. He must increase.

“Something on the road, cut me to the soul. Your pain has changed me, your dreams inspire. Your face a memory, your hope a fire. Your courage asks me what I’m afraid of and what I know of Love. And what I know of God.”

You know, God is changing my heart. It’s so hard to put into words. But suddenly some of the things I have valued seem to feel earthly and temporary. Stuff feels like stuff more. And Kingdom works are consuming my mind. I find myself consumed by the burdens, the hope and the promise of an all-sustaining God who provides every need.

It’s in the face of the poor’s needs that I question how I define need. It’s in the way missionaries live that I question what I feel I deserve. It’s in the heart of the gospel that I question my drive and my motive. It’s in the blessing of our culture that I question my standard of success. It’s in your face, Lidia, in your eyes, Tofic, that I am challenged to live a life of surrender and obedience. Where am I looking for Jesus today? Have I missed His life all around me?

Lidia and Tofic, you are normal kids – sinning, smiling, trying to figure out life. And I still marvel in the mystery that by me just admitting you exist and you have needs and obeying, my heart is drawn to Jesus.

You know, I truly believe that our faith is a journey, peeks and valleys, rough roads and smoother ones. And yet I also wonder how much of us is supposed to waver and how much of us are we to allow to be consumed by our culture’s hierarchy. No hippy rebellion here, just trying to live with a healthy Godly worldview. Tired of shutting my eyes in so many ways and yet finding the hope in opened eyes, despite the desperate need of the world.

It’s funny how God’s call to discipleship doesn’t necessarily mean leaving all behind will take us beyond the realms of our neighborhood physically. Though casting the net aside and following Him is still the devotion desired and required, God is opening me to the reality of being a missionary in my home. He can touch the world from our front doorstep. Oh what He has and will continue to do with a surrendered life.

I wonder how I’ve missed it in the past – been so caught up in me. It’s like the blinders have come off and the sight has returned. Jesus is so much bigger than we give Him credit. Jesus is so much bigger in this world than we see from North America. I’ve prayed for missionaries in the past, but they still felt across the seas. Today they feel like next door neighbors. And I ring their doorbells when I hit my knees in the morning.

I find myself hurting for their hurts. I find myself crying over the poor’s loss. I find myself inspired and desiring to be more obedient through the stories of the faithful and the God-exalting. Devotion stirs devotion. God’s Word seems voidless. And all that changed is my morning routine. Who would have thought that a morning routine change would make Africa feel so close? He’s changing me.

Oh the power we Christians have harnessed closely in prayer. Not the cheap brush-off kind of Prayer. I’m talking “I believe You can accomplish this” prayer. The power to hit our knees for more than a never-ending sick list. When prayer becomes more than a mode of gossip. When prayer becomes more than a “church thing”. When you start talking to your Best Friend in the mornings (and at night, and at noon.. and …) about your desire to add one more to His Kingdom. “Please, Jesus, even just this one more…”

Justice seems to matter more. Patience seems to be attainable. Prayer becomes a strategy in battle. Neighbors spread across oceans. Your heart breaks for injustice and overflows in accomplishment and joy. Love becomes more than enough if it’s done in Jesus’ Name. And discipleship feels natural when Jesus consumes your thoughts.

I don’t know if my face is glowing. I don’t really care if I scare some by the fact that I have seen God. All I know is, I don’t ever want to be the same. I don’t ever want to go back. I’m no less filthy than before, I’m just more repentant. And all I know is I want today to be a little more obedient than yesterday. That’s a starting point at least.

My heart breaks for those who have yet to see – truly see – the heart of God. Oh, Jesus… you know my prayers. Open us up, Jesus. Please, Jesus, that You would be more and more and that obedience would be our worship.

– changing.