Spent

During my senior year of college I was a resident advisor in the APU Freshman dorms. We had extensive training at the beginning of the year that covered everything from residents attempting suicide to residents drinking in their rooms. The final part of the training drilled into our minds that in a life of service, there is always "one more thing." There is always "one more thing" to be done--one more hug to give, one more encouraging word to speak, one more problem to overcome-- and that thing is never convenient. It is never something you FEEL like doing. However, that "one more thing" actually defines your commitment to the cause, and how you treat that "one more thing" speaks volumes about the condition of your heart.

Never have the lessons I learned that year about "one more thing" been more relevant or important to my daily living than they are right now. Tonight was absolutely exhausting. Emotions ran high and everyone was on edge. So many tears were shed. As the girls sobbed and slammed doors, the staff wrestled with their own demons- loneliness and broken hearts filled our little log cabin house.

My stomach turned in knots as cruel words were exchanged, and my mind raced with ideas for how to bring hope to such sadness. I wondered how to channel streams of living water to bring the healing of the King into the most broken places. My mind wandered to the dream that God is building in Craig and I of serving people on our ranch; I was forced to face the reality of pain and heartbreak in the midst of service. It is easy to say that you want to help people carry their burdens, but it is much more difficult to actually bear the weight of the load when there is no light at the end of the tunnel--when you know that there will be "one more thing" after "one more thing" until Jesus returns.

When I got home, I crawled into Craig's arms and rested in his aroma. He faithfully listened to my detailed account of the evening and reminded me of my purpose. Right as we were about to fall asleep, his pager went off and the ambulance needed him. More broken hearts and broken bodies in our little valley--in need of a quick trip to the hospital and a loving touch from the Great Physician.

As he quickly dressed and kissed me goodbye, I was reminded again of "one more thing." I had to ask myself who I want to be in the face of that last, annoyingly inconvenient thing. I know that when I meet the King, he will ask me about it. I want to be able to say that I was faithful even in those things. I want to say that I completed the task that I was called to, even when it was hard or that I encouraged Craig to complete his task when I felt like I needed him more. We are called to love, and that does not usually mean a 9-5 and a cold beer at the end of the day. It means getting knee deep in the muck of our fallen world and proclaiming that Jesus is the only way out.

I desire to be faithful in "one more thing" and to be poured out for those that I am called to serve. I want to do it gladly and passionately, whether I see the results in this life or the next.


"I will gladly spend myself and all I have for you, even though it seems that the more I love you, the less you love me." 2 Corinthians 12:15

Swinging Freedom

  It was the first day of sun after a week of rain. The air was crisp. A lot was going on at the house, so we took a drive into Etna. We drove by the park and the swings called our names. We jerked to a stop in our little stick-shift Honda. The setting sun played on the leaves in such a perfect way, such an autumn way. As we swung back and forth, she asked me if my life was different since I moved to the Valley. A flood of things came to my mind. Everything about my life is different. I told her how much I love it here. I asked her the same question and she spoke of freedom. She spoke of overwhelming freedom to experience God and other people. She spoke of letting things go more easily here. She spoke of her desire to know her Father's desires for her life. She continued, and tears welled up in my eyes. This little girl with a heavy burden on her shoulders was experiencing the healing of this place. She was beginning to see.
   After weeks of impatience and doubt, joy and purpose burst into my heart. Chords of stress and tension and control resolved into melodic peace. I am learning that quiet patience is the key to seeing God's Kingdom come. It does not usually happen when I am talking or demanding, but rather, when I am listening. It is only then that I hear the gentle whisper of the God who desires to be known by each of His children. Maybe I need to listen more.

But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.  
2 Peter 3:8-9

♥ Jenny