Calling all Mothers

On this Mother's Day as I sat in church with my two precious children, surrounded by my amazing church family, a whisper of sorrow wound it's way around my heart. The blue eyed boy my heart loves wasn't with me.

Being a mother has been my greatest challenge and an amazing gift. The love that comes from caring for someone small and vulnerable has expanded my ability to love. I'm finding the capacity to care for someone that needs protecting doesn't stop with my own children. My mother's heart rises up in indignation when I hear of a child taken advantage of or neglected.

Perhaps that's what God intended, for mother's to extend that nurture and influence as a spiritual reality to others. The little boy who lies in a crib in Serbia isn't my responsibility. I didn't give birth to him. I didn't abandon him when his body succumbed to disease. But I've seen him, and perhaps a heart that can see and love is responsible to be a mother, even to a child that's not hers. 

Perhaps I've beat this drum a lot lately, a call of love for the broken and needy. But I think I've just gotten started and the beat will only grow louder. The world needs mothers (and father's too for that matter but today is Mother's Day so I'll stay on topic).

The world needs mothers to ease a hurting heart, to be an advocate in weakness, to notice when something's wrong and take the time to make it right. The world needs mothers to stretch out their hands in a soothing touch, smile in pride at faltering steps, forgive, cheer, clean, mend, and do it again tomorrow. 

So even from a distance I'll learn to be a mother to a world I didn't birth but am learning to see. Will you join me moms? Strap on your super cape and reach into your mother's tool box and embrace the world. The world is our responsibility not because we gave birth to it but because we've been given our motherhood by the One who taught us to love in the first place and he's inviting us to turn our superpowers of love on those who aren't our own.

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. 1 John 4:9-12

Becoming Washers of Feet

I'm writing less and more sporadically these days, and it seems more raw. I thought when I came back from Serbia last October I would be a more liberated, world wise writer. I was wrong. It seems that words have become like a jagged, ugly cry rather than a thing of beauty. But some things of beauty, at least outwardly, are hideous. A brand new baby in a smelly, manure filled stable for example. Or perfect Jesus, with the tender voice and piercing eyes, blood matted on a cross. Perhaps that's where worth comes in, the holy meeting the putrid in a visceral mess.

Lately, when I un-clench a protective hand from my blood red heart, I stare at a silver vein running through it. It creates a stark contrast, this sliver of hope tracing itself on flesh. A promise held in trust. It aches like a splinter and throbs like love, tethering it's owners together, stretched thin through time and space.

What story can be told? I've told it before, over and over. Hands I've held in my own, small and dry from lack of care. Chewed for comfort, missing a mother's touch. I remember the feel of them; some days I wish I didn't. And yet he smiles and coos and laughs, if you can call the sound he makes laughter. Who's womb bore him and then gave him up when illness clamped it's steely jaws around his mind? Why would I, a stranger, grieve and cry and pray and beg for his life more than his own flesh and blood? What could her story be.

Sometimes I remember his fragile frame and wonder if a soul and body can just disappear. How many months until his stick legs are bent and twisted, never to straighten again? Will his smile dry up and the mask of loss be his to wear forever? Will the dull, glassy, institutional eyes replace the sparkle? Will he be lost for good? At the moment I see life flicker behind his eyes and I pray it doesn't vanish.

I'll see him in July. I catch my breath and wonder what I'll find. Will he be in the little bed, arms pushed through the rails, waiting? Will he have changed? Will I be able to bear seeing him again?

Sometimes I wonder how the world can take the burgeoning weight of her orphans without ripping at the seams of her huge heart, when it feels my own cannot. How do you taste the brutal love of a Father grieving for his children and not stagger under the weight of it? I cannot, and so most days I cry.

I cry for his mother who knew a beautiful, sweet child and lost him to disease. I cry for the hopes she had for who he would be. I cry for his body, his time, his future, his days locked away from love. I cry for what could have been and what may not be. I cry for me to have seen him and have fallen in love and have to live without him. I cry for everyone who hasn't seen, and lives as if he and his brothers and sisters don't exist, and miss the agony of caring. I cry because I escaped a life of neglect that so many in the world have known. I cry because Jesus cries and he wants company in the grieving. I cry because one day I trust I won't have to any more.

He's just one orphan of so very many, why could it possibly matter that I love him? Ezekiel 16 contains a peculiar passage that hints at the answer. God says to his people Israel, "No one had the slightest interest in you; no one pitied you or cared for you. On the day you were born, you were unwanted, dumped in a field and left to die. “But I came by and saw you there, helplessly kicking about in your own blood. As you lay there, I said, ‘Live!’" Is that not the story of humanity, of me? Is that not the story of the cross?

What if God had passed  by on the day we became orphans in the Garden at the beginning of time? What if he decided Jesus was too great of a price for our own lives, could you blame him? But he didn't. He has pursued us as though we have always been his sons and daughters.

That's what I came away with this Easter season. I was reminded that a great God stooped to clean and care for an orphaned humanity. I was reminded that I'm not greater than my Master and just as he washed feet it's my privilege and responsibility to wash feet too. Wherever I may find them. In my home, in my church, on the side of the road, in Serbia.

I wish I could daily wash the feet of this little orphaned boy. But right now I can't. And so I daily choose to bear the burden of love and wash his feet in prayer from a distance. It's always more complicated when holy and profane meet. I don't know if I'll ever bring him home and be his mama. But I will climb in the yoke of suffering with Jesus. The cross has made a way, and burdens that never seemed as if they could be born, for the love of Jesus, can be. I will labor for this child. The heavy heart that comes, in the light of Jesus, becomes a joy.

When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them. John 13:12-17

Who's burden are you carrying, who's feet has Jesus asked you to wash. The burden becomes joy when carried in love.

Called to Love

Gordana and Beck

Last week I shared a little bit about meeting Gordana when I traveled to Serbia last year. Her work reaching out to the brokenhearted women of Novi Sad moves me. Many of us have heard of the huge amount of women caught in human trafficking and prostitution around the world. How many people do we actually know on the front lines working personally to help these women? 

What a privilege for us to hear from Gordana's heart today! I hope you will listen closely as she shares about the burden God has given her:

When God called me to the ministry with abandoned women I didn’t know what to expect. I still wasn’t really aware of the way God’s heart looks like, how His love overwhelms and what is the work of His grace. I knew this would happen, He firstly had to break my heart and bring me on my knees before Him. 

Unchanged hearts can never bring forth God’s love to broken people. 

One Friday night as we went to the roadside district where the prostituted girls stood, God came to me with His words, which almost blew me away from my bike as we rode for prayer. 

He asked me, "Gordana, beloved, you have a daughter, right?" 

I said, "Yes, Lord, I do." 

"What would you do in a big city like this if she was lost?" 

The conversation continued. "Ooh, what wouldn’t I do? We would all go looking for her!" 

"OK, I have my daughters lost and I want you to go looking for them!" Jesus said. A tear was running down my cheek. 

I wanted to bend my knees before Him. I hadn’t know how broken His heart was for the girls who are giving their bodies and souls to other men... devil... whoever... Our Lord is crying for the lost. It could be anyone, your brother, sister, cousin or neighbor. 

Can we sit and do nothing? No, I cannot. Because of His love! 

After I met some of the street girls I couldn’t believe the strong feelings I had for them. I felt such strong love which I was not able to explain. I knew God poured His love into my selfish heart. My heart was no longer the same. And He is continuing to keep my heart at this humble state. 

Then I read famous three-times question from John 21. Jesus asked Peter over and over again, "Do you love me?" Yes, I do. "Then go and feed my children. Then go and care for the needy. Then go and help them." This is the way you show me love. You received love and grace. Now go and give it away. As you do, the love and grace will always be refilled in your heart. 

So, if you want the key to increase your love, this is the way to do it. Give love away. God’s love in you and your love for Him will grow and you will be His beloved loving daughter. 

Gordana, Nichole, and Beck

Gordana, and two of her friends ride bikes through the red light district of Novi Sad praying for the lives of the women chained in hopelessness. They take small gifts to the women and engage them in conversation, offering them friendship and truth. Her ministry, Nova Zena, which means New Woman, offers help for women in abusive relationships and those caught in prostitution. 

Today I'd like to ask you to do a few things. 

• Take a moment to pray for Gordana and her team. Pray for safety and wisdom and courage. Ask God to help them build trust with women and to lead women trapped in bondage to freedom, spiritually and physically.
• Share this post with others that you know are interested in being a part of ending human trafficking.
• Lastly, as you pray will you ask God how he may want you to be involved? Consider giving a one time gift or a monthly donation to the work of Nova Zena. Consider becoming a regular prayer partner and receiving ministry updates.

Gordana reminded us that God's love grows in our heart as it is given away. Who has he called you to give his love away to today? 

Embracing New Opportunities

I'm excited to announce the launching of a dream, Mercy's Refuge! A movement dedicated to seeing people with God's eyes of mercy and partnering with him to offer practical love. Many of you have followed the journey God has taken me on, into his heart of love for the weak and orphaned, all the way around the world to Serbia. I am so thankful for your companionship on that journey, your prayers and gifts have meant a great deal! God's not finished with me yet and I'm still on the journey deeper into his heart of mercy for the Serbian people, and people with disability. But the journey has grown to include others and taken on a life of it's own. So I will be blogging about that journey at Mercy's Refuge blog. I would love for you to visit and see what God is doing!

My goal now for this site is to focus again on mentoring, the sisterhood of Christian women, and our journey home. I'm sure Serbia will come up again, it's a huge part of my life, but in this setting I intend for it to play a supporting role and not take center stage.

One of the reasons for this is because I've recently been asked to join a team of bloggers in an exciting new venture! Allied Women is a site for women to come together in faith, community, and purpose. In the next few weeks they will be offering some exciting tools for women who desire to find purpose and be supported in their walk of faith. I'm honored that they've asked me to be a part of their vision by hosting a forum and classes on mentoring!

I hope you will continue to journey with me as God works out his amazing grace in my life and opens new opportunities to follow him. Stay tuned to learn more about the launching of Allied Women's Communities and visit Mercy's Refuge to see how God continues to lead me to love Serbia!

Where I Long To Be

I dreamed this Christmas Eve of a place I love. A place I long to be. It wasn't the North Carolina hills where my parents and family are tucked warm into a cabin, snug together. Though my heart is there. Or here in the warm, velvety south with children and in-laws, though it is a delight to be together.

I dreamed of a room in another world that holds a golden haired treasure. Over an ocean, miles away, lie men and women, boys and girls, waiting. For some it's a good life, the best they will know. For others it's just not enough.

If I could grant wishes anywhere in the world it would be for the ones I love in Dom Veternik. Serbia haunts me and I often find myself shoving down the memory of my visit, locking it in a safe place, but it always finds a way to resurface.

If I could materialize a dream I would share a warm meal with my new friends, the staff who tirelessly care for the residents, and exchange small trinkets of friendship. I would ask them what they thought of the incarnation of God, the Son putting on flesh to be with us.

I would hug, and laugh with the residents who walk the grounds. Eventually I would make my way to the upstairs room of golden haired boy (it grieves me that I don't recall his name) where he lays with Boris, Petra, and a little girl whose name I've also forgotten. Maybe I would take a book and read to them. Most likely I would do what they seem to like best, hold their hands, and sing.

But I can't be in Serbia this Christmas. So I pray and trust that Jesus is. I pray that Jesus visits this humble place, filled with the fragile of this world. I think places like Dom Veternik are where he loves to be, with the meek and mild, the small and childlike.

I'm thankful for the incarnation of all that's holy, Jesus putting on skin to be forever linked with humanity, humbly taking our cross and bearing a load too huge for our shoulders. I'm thankful not only for what Immanuel means for me but for the weak I can do so very little for. The Child's coming gives meaning and hope to their quiet lives of longing. Seen, loved, and known by a humble King, they are not forgotten.

This is my prayer for the 600 residents of Dom Veternik mental institution on Christmas:

O Zion, messenger of good news,

shout from the mountaintops!

Shout it louder, O Jerusalem.

Shout, and do not be afraid.

Tell the towns of Judah,

“Your God is coming!”

Yes, the Sovereign Lord is coming in power.

He will rule with a powerful arm.

See, he brings his reward with him as he comes.

He will feed his flock like a shepherd.

He will carry the lambs in his arms,

holding them close to his heart.

He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young.

Isaiah 40:9-11

In his kingdom, as he leads with power, Jesus is not unaware of his needy ones. I trust he will reward and gently carry those whose lot in life has been a heavy burden. Today I'm trusting the Shepherd who caries lambs close to his heart. What a God we worship! In our bounty and celebration let's not forget those living in great need. 

Letting Go Of Fear

What's Holding Me Back

I'm afraid. Man I hate seeing those words in black and white. I would argue with them, "I am not afraid, I'm bold and courageous." But I really can't.

Life has grabbed me up in it's jaws by the scruff of my tender neck and yanked me around. The reality of living in this broken place will do that, to all of us, now and then. Have you been jerked around by life lately?

The smoke and mirrors of the lies this world tells has left me searching for the purpose I was just holding on to a week or two ago.

The day after I found out my Mom has cancer I got an email from a friend who has sensed God laying ministry to Serbia on her heart as well. Her letter was filled with the same heartache of life that I was feeling. My friend Nichole, who traveled with me to Serbia, called me that week with her own painful news. Hurts and disappointments had piled up at her door as well. Each one of us was experiencing a family crisis, a limiting of resources, the weariness that seeps deep into a soul from being in battle.

It seemed that Mom's illness was the straw that broke the back of the proverbial camel. I was shaken. It pealed back and revealed other wounds tucked away. This past season of ministry left more scars than victories on the tender skin of my heart and I've realized I really haven't dealt with them. I've let the experience define who I am rather than what God says about me. Truth be told I wonder if I've really dealt with the scars from the ministry experience before that.

I found out that a young woman I mentored has divorced, I really don't know if she's walking with Jesus, and it grieves me. Could I have done more? The question drifts in on the wings of pain, "am I enough?" Maybe you ask that same question.

I fight with words regularly. Are they a gift God has graciously set in my hand, or a wisp of smoke, a dream I chase. Am I really a writer? It's hard to tell. Homeschooling, well maybe we shouldn't even go there. I've loved my time with my children, but I'm not at all certain this year has been effective in my son's educational process.

Just a few months ago I felt confident. What happened? I find myself in a slow crawl instead of a brisk stride.

Moving forward with passion and conviction to love the  residents of Dom Veternik scares me the worst of all. What if I fail? Public humiliation, international exposure of my weaknesses, it's the stuff nightmares are made out of.

Laying Fear Down

I think, though, that a hands and knees crawl is a good place to be. Bowed down for blessing. Isn't that where so many men and women of the Bible found themselves blessed? Mary giving birth, prostrate, vulnerable, and in pain received the fulfillment of promise into her waiting arms. I remember childbirth, it lays you flat, takes your breath away, and drains you of yourself. I'm amazed that in that moment Salvation exploded onto the scene, as a helpless child. God sure has a funny way of doing things.

And so I find myself once again, obsessed with God's glory. More afraid I will miss out on the light of salvation dawning on the people of Serbia than that I will expose myself to public, international, humiliation.

In the midst of all of these vulnerabilities came words that spoke to my deepest fears of not being wanted, needed, or enough. An anonymous comment (actually there were a few) on a post telling me I was an enemy to the Serbian people, not wanted or needed, accusing me of false humanity. Instead of deleting the comment I've left it. Because really words intended to wound were a gift. They caused me to look more deeply at my motivation and ask God to purify it, to use what was of him and strip away my own pride and self, there is always work to be done in that area. The Serbian people don't need me, and I needed to be reminded of that. Traveling to Serbia, praying for God's goodness in their lives, witnessing love and mercy, that's a gift. God merely invited me to see what he is already doing, honoring his own name and offering mercy to anyone who wants it.

So, I guess for the last few weeks the fight has been one of engagement. Will I gather my wounds and fears close to my chest and protect them like treasures, stepping away from people and circumstances that could wound me further? Or will I lay them down as an offering at Jesus' most worthy feet as a gift of trust, bearing the scars as a reminder of his grace, and walk back to the fight of loving, praying, and going?

I choose the later, but it's a daily, if not hourly, choice. I don't really know what that means for my future with Serbia. I pray to return, I desire to work for their good, I hope to be a part of their story. And in this new season of church ministry I'm still looking for my place. I'm waiting on God's leading and provision for the next step. So, I stretch my hands open in availability to him, palms up, ready to receive the blessing.

Maybe you feel the same way, a little gun shy. Afraid to engage in life. Perhaps you'll be as emboldened as I was by this quote I heard in the movie "Mirror Mirror" recently. The King says to the Prince on his wedding day, after victory is won, "You found this kingdom caught in the clutches of greed and vanity, yet you did not retreat, you entered the fight, we all owe you and your brave compatriots a great debt of gratitude."

Our elder brother, Jesus, didn't retreat from this world, he entered the fight and now he holds open the door for us to join him. I want to enter the fight. Will you?

Join In

For the last couple of months our church has been talking about Vintage Faith. We've taken the passage in Hebrews 11 and drawn out some of the stories of faithful men and women. Their lives have given us a picture of what faith in the living God looks like. For me it's been a powerful time. I don't think I will quickly forget these messages.

Right in the middle of the series some pretty major things happened in my life, things that could have left me drained, confused, and overwhelmed. But instead I feel energized and excited. Why is that?

I believe it's because I've recognized that the men and women of faith we've been studying, Abraham, Moses, Rahab, Peter, etc., were all invited into the establishment of God's kingdom. Their success was based solely on the power and devotion of God to accomplish his plan. And I believe that is true in my life as well. 

I believe God has called me to be a part of the establishment of his kingdom in my corner of Alabama and in Serbia. He's called all of us who follow him to seek and extend his mercy and live in his reign wherever we are. Being present in God's kingdom, and drawing others in, is what it's all about.

That life doesn't come without opposition and hardship, but it also doesn't come without power. Were Rahab and Gideon, Abraham and Joseph exceptional in and of themselves, were they something all together different than we are? I don't think so, but they did have exceptional faith, faith God honored. The hardships they overcame and victories accomplished were all through God's power.

When we step out in faith to express mercy, to live holy lives set apart to God's glory, to live in a way that joins in the spread of God's kingdom, there is power to obey. God is already working to advance his reign and his glory, the display of his mercy to all mankind, it's our responsibility to ask him where and join him.

When I got back from Serbia my sister asked me a question I've been thinking about for a while. She wanted to know if the workers at the institution, and I imagine even myself, questioned where God was in a place like that, in the midst of the suffering.

I didn't encounter anyone at the institution who identified themselves as a follower of Jesus. But I saw God's presence in a way I didn't expect. I saw his image in people. Men and women who knew to be compassionate and merciful to those in need were bearing him in their DNA.

And I saw in the suffering a hope to hang on to life even in difficult circumstances and limited capacity. God was there. 

I believe more now than ever before that even though many of these people live rejected by society and on the fringe of life that God desires to establish his kingdom there. A refuge of his mercy in the storm of this life. I also believe he has graciously drawn me into that plan, he's already doing it, it's his work but he's invited me to join in.

Where is God working around you? Where can you see God stretching out his kingdom, offering people mercy? Are you joining in? There will be struggle in the journey but there will also be power, because it's all for his glory.

"And it is impossible to please God without faith. Anyone who wants to come to him must believe that God exists and that he rewards those who sincerely seek him." Hebrews 11:6

Steps

Steps up Petravaradin Fortress

Last week I wrestled between God's leading and my dreaming as I worked out a response, a vision, to the needs of Dom Veternik's institutionalized. He brought me to a place of quiet and trust, of waiting, that I thought could last for days, even weeks. Unexpectedly, I love how he surprises us, that time of quiet lasted much shorter than I thought. 

I'm catching a new vision, a new excitement, as God continues to soften my heart to people he loves. Beautifully he used a blog friend to confirm and solidify his plans. I never could have envisioned it but I'm so thankful how one step leads to another. All I have to do is take each step before me, in his power and grace. Sounds simple, feels like a mountain some days. 

This weekend I took a step that may appear small but felt monumental, and was accompanied by that momentary tremor of fear. But it's what's before me, the next step. I submitted a request of name for a non-profit organization. The name has been reserved by Alabama's State Department and I have 120 days to file paperwork to form a non-profit corporation. I had just enough money left from what was given for the trip to apply for the name. So I used it as a seed.

That's one of those moments that grab you by the heart and squeezes your insides. I wasn't sure if I wanted to do a happy dance or grab my head and panic. What have I done? I believe I've listened and trusted and risked. I'm expecting that the God who has given the love for the task will also give the power.

There is a lot to do. I'm trusting God will continue to call people into his love for Serbia as partners. Whether it's in giving or going or praying. I trust God will continue to raise people up to be a part of the ministry's board, he's already started putting together a team! I trust God will continue to supply the resources. Most importantly I trust God will cause our obedience to bear fruit, that people will come to know his mercy and his name will be made famous in Serbia.

If you feel drawn to be a part of the work God is doing in Serbia contact me and we can see what that looks like. I hope in the near future to send out an email and launch a website to keep you better informed and to spread the word to get others involved. Stay tuned for those exciting developments and of course for the unveiling of our new name!

In the meantime would you continue to pray?
Pray for God's continued leading and provision.
Pray for the seed of love that was planted at Dom Veternik to take root and draw people to Jesus.
Pray for the local church in Novi Sad to continue to grow in love and size.

Thank you friends for your continued support and interest. I'm thankful for the encouragement you provide and your hearts that celebrate with me the spread of God's glorious mercy!

Blue Eyed Boy

His blonde hair had been stroked by a mother, once. That was before the virus had come and stripped his body of it's memory. After the meningitis had had it's way with his brain it then stripped him of what was left; relationship, hope, a future.

The burden of his care had reduced him to the status of orphan. I wonder if his mother cried when he was taken to the institution. Did she go with him and watch as he was placed into the white metal crib that is now the extent of his world? I hope she didn't.

His innocent blue eyes still hold hope, lighting up whenever anyone gets close enough to notice. Little hands reach out through bars, grasping, looking for what's been lost.

He had five healthy years before the sentence fell. His body is still flexible, able to sit with supportive hands, able to reach. Unlike some of the others on his floor. 

They could tell stories, if they could speak. Once they could move and smile, but slowly, over time, they've turned to wood. Like real boys gone unloved turning back into the block of wood they came from. But this isn't a fairy tale, no good fairy coming to break the spell, just day after day of the same bars.

Of course there is one nurse, Lubitza, meaning violet, maybe she is a bit of a fairy, singing and kissing as she tends to needs. But the hands are so few and the needs so great it's not enough to stem the tide, not enough to make up for what was lost.

Blue eyed boy with the golden smile. I'll hope with you for a while and pray this isn't the end of your story. The saddest thing is, I can't remember his name. It bothers me that I can't.  Just one of hundreds of little lives, all who deserve hearing. I think the least we can do is lean in close and listen.

My husband would say I'm obsessed. I have to confess, he's right. I also have to confess, I don't care. I would rather be obsessed with redemption than anything else I can think of. What else is adoption, seeking out the lonely, praying for restoration, than redemption at a human level?

I'm messy at it, and I'm okay with that too.

How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God! For this reason Christ is the mediator of a new covenant, that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance. Hebrews 9:14-15a

Will you join in praying with me for this little one? That God will set him in a family and restore his hope. If you want to know how you can be a part of helping the residents of Dom Veternik please feel free to contact me.

{Update: I returned this summer to the mental institution, Dom Veternik, where blue eyed boy lives. I learned his name is Cedo. He is not available for adoption because his parents still have custody of him. They are unable to care for him due to financial limitations and poor social infrastructure for people with disability.}

Eyes on Jesus

Old church steeple, Novi Sad

Ever since I left Serbia words have clogged near the surface refusing to get in line and pour out, refusing to be ordered and typed. I've written posts but not one of them has satisfied me, each one has felt incomplete.

Perhaps it's because my foot stepped onto American soil and my mind started racing and I was ready to act. But every idea, every plan, and I have lots of them, has felt forced, like picking an apple while it's green.

So this weekend I stopped, turned around and faced God and re-prayed the prayer that started it all. "I went and saw God, I obeyed, now remind me what you love, what breaks your heart, what moves you? What are you doing about it? Give me a taste, let me be a part of your plan."

I wear Serbia like a wound in my heart, like a wedding band, she's an altar for me to lay down and die on. Her people live at the forefront of my mind. When I sing of God's redemption and power I raise my hands and they're full, full of beating hearts, full of lonely lives, full of broken dreams, Serbia's children.

Today God reminded me it's his work to do. I've spun my wheels and my dreams in the last couple of weeks wanting to save, to not disappoint. But when has salvation ever disappointed and salvation doesn't belong to me. I'm reminded I went to see God's glory, his mercy on display, and I did.

I hope. One day I hope I will go back, I hope to be a part of real action to meet need with ongoing love and support, I hope to speak truth and see a harvest, I hope to be a part of the story of God's love for a nation, I hope to be engaged in relationship.

Regardless of what role God allows me to play one thing I'm confident of is God's action. He is loving people around the world, stretching out his banner of mercy, calling out come home. I link hands across the ocean with my brothers and sisters in Serbia in worship to our Father and we intercede for the lost to be saved.

It will take real restraint not to make plans yet, I have so many ideas, but I'm laying it all down at Jesus feet and looking to him for direction. I have no doubt he will lead me, just like he has before, who would ever have thought I would travel to Serbia in the first place! But I'm not going to step out ahead of him. I'm still waiting to hear the voice of Mercy. In the meantime I'll be interceding, listening, staying in contact with my new friends, and funneling monetary support through the right channels as it's offered. But I'm waiting in a posture of prayer for direction before I commit to any permanent action.

I also feel like it's time to finish my novel and publish it before I make new plans. So you may hear less about Serbia as I pray, or you may hear more, it's hard to say! If you are led to do so will you join with me in praying? Pray that God will make his plan clear to those of us who are called to act, pray for the church of Serbia to grow in influence and love, pray for the little ones who wait, pray for the people of Serbia to respond to God's mercy. As I wait I'll turn my eyes to Jesus and watch for what he's about to do. 

Blessed are those whose help is the God of Jacob,

    whose hope is in the Lord their God.

He is the Maker of heaven and earth,

    the sea, and everything in them—

    he remains faithful forever.

He upholds the cause of the oppressed

    and gives food to the hungry.

The Lord sets prisoners free, 

    the Lord gives sight to the blind,

the Lord lifts up those who are bowed down,

    the Lord loves the righteous. 

The Lord watches over the foreigner

    and sustains the fatherless and the widow,

    but he frustrates the ways of the wicked.

Psalm 146:5-9

Waiting on Mercy

I feel a little frustrated, an ache of longing has settled into my heart, the weariness of life has slipped around my shoulders like an unwelcome friend. I miss the children of Dom Veternik and the people who care for them. I miss the Christians I met so briefly but love already. And I feel a little helpless.

Sweet friend

What does one woman, who already has her hands full raising her own children, writing a book, loving a husband, serving at church, loving my neighbor, growing a garden, what does one woman do? How could she possibly matter?

Last week at church we studied the story of Rahab as a part of our series called Vintage Faith. Her story is compelling, highlighting God's plan of mercy and his faithfulness to his own character. Whenever he judges people for sin he always provides a refuge of Mercy. 

Amazing architecture of a Catholic church in Novi Sad

When Rahab acknowledged God's supreme rule and submitted to him God didn't remove her from danger, he protected her in it. As the walls fell she was hidden in a refuge of God's mercy. When he destroyed the earth with a flood he didn't remove Noah, he mercifully protected him in it, in a refuge. Jonah deserved judgement but God protected him, essentially in a watery grave, a merciful refuge. The children of Israel hid in their homes under lamb's blood, a refuge of mercy. Ultimately Jesus' tomb was a refuge of mercy, protecting us all if we will come, offering us mercy. God reminded me that's what he wants for the Serbian people, to choose mercy, to come into his refuge, out of judgement and into life. 

This week at church we're studying Gideon. I've been feeling like Gideon, as I said, a little helpless, kind of small. But then God reminds me he has called his servants mighty men (and women) of valor. If it's God's plan of mercy for the nations I've been drawn into then it rests on him to accomplish it. I get to participate. But it takes faith, maybe a little failure, sometimes looking foolish, waiting, and trust. I'm not always good at those things, but when glory peaks out and God's mercy breaks in I'm finding it's worth it.

So even though I'm a little overwhelmed by the task, little faces burned into my memory compel me to action. Even if it's the small act of remembering and praying, telling their story, or collecting even just a few resources I'll remember that it's God's mercy I'm under and he uses small people to accomplish his plan! I'm waiting on Mercy and trusting for it to be enough.

Sculpture in the courtyard of Dom Veternik

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High

    will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

² 

This I declare about the Lord:

He alone is my refuge, my place of safety;

    he is my God, and I trust him. Psalm 91:1-2

All For Friendship

I went to Serbia to make friends. It may seem an odd goal to have, flying across the world, to engage in friendship. But I hope that's what I did.

Bob Goff says, "Some people will always be skeptical of extravagant love. Give them something to talk about." (If you haven't read his book Love Does, you really should) I could have gone to Serbia to start programs, to preach, to document a situation, but I believe friendship is more powerful than programs any day. 

View from the Seminary we stayed at in Novi Sad.

When I landed in Belgrade on October 18th with my friend Nichole I was prepared with months of prayer, the support of some amazing family and friends, and many weeks of email exchanges with the staff of the mental institution. I had also been in contact in the previous week or two with a few Christians in Novi Sad, and Nichole and I had even found a Theological Seminary to stay at. 

A typical street outside of the city center

While that seemed like plenty of preparation when I got on the plane, it was a completely different story when we got off! I can't say that the Belgrade airport has spent sufficient money on making a first impression to those arriving in their country for the first time. I wonder if they get a lot of international travelers, it was hard to find someone who spoke English, and we felt not like Americans but two headed aliens. In short, as we stood waiting on the sidewalk for the bus to take us the hour and a half to Novi Sad, after some challenging communication about currency exchange, and with Nichole's phone battery drained, the inevitable wave of 'what are we doing here' washed over me.

Is an email exchange with someone in another country, someone I've never actually spoken to, someone who knows we're coming to find out information about their institution that has a not so nice reputation, is that really enough grounds to have bought two very expensive tickets just so we can show up? For a moment I wanted to cry but God reminded me it wasn't just Dom Veternik I was coming to see, it was his glory. For the last few months my prayers for the disabled, warehoused in a mental institution, had changed to prayers for the entire people of Serbia, that they would know God's glory expressed to them in mercy. There was no turning back now.

When we stepped onto the curb outside of the Novi Sad Theological Seminary friendship began. Relief washed over us and gratitude rose up from our hearts. Ladislav Repic, a member of the Seminary staff, met us warmly, and our time at the Seminary was graced with comfort, great conversation, and the bond of Christ. Later in the week we met up with Gordana, I've mentioned her in a previous post, we had been connected on facebook through a mutual friend. We knew God was involved in orchestrating the beautiful connections we had with Novi Sad's Christian community. Everything I've ever written about sisters here on this blog was evident in our meeting with Gordana, and others. I love when Jesus in me resonates with Jesus in another heart, and that certainly happened as we opened our hearts and relished God's grace with Gordana.

A group of young adults with mobility issues

On Friday the moment had come for us to see with our own eyes the truth about Dom Veternik. We were a little nervous because we had heard that the director was concerned about our visit. The MDRI, a human rights group, had released a report the weekend before that was less than favorable in it's description of several institutions, including Dom Veternik, and that had put him on edge. When we arrived we were welcomed warmly and were able to address their concerns and state our true reason for coming; that we wanted to see with our own eyes their needs, and to be friends. Of course that sounds strange when you say it out loud. The inevitable questions, "who sent you, what are your qualifications, who do you represent," are bound to be asked. I'm getting better at answering those questions they've been asked so many times!

Children on the floor for immobile and mentally disabled , they are all over 10 years old

Over the next several days I think, I hope, they came to see our motivation. The staff took us everywhere, not holding back the most troubling sights, answering any question, expressing their needs and hopes. I knew I would come to care for and love the kids, I was surprised by how much I came to care for the staff. We were making friends. Serbia is less than 1% evangelical, most people identify with the Orthodox church, so I knew that expressing our purpose in coming (to express the love of Jesus, the ultimate friend) might sound weird. I'm getting used to sounding weird though. Most cultures can understand the language of friendship I think, compassion, empathy, love. The staff just wanted to be understood. It had hurt them that they have been painted in reports and media coverage as unfeeling and unkind to the residents. It was obvious to us that the men and women who work with the 600 hundred residents of Dom Veternik care a great deal about their well being. It was also obvious that their care is not enough. 

 Painting a poster of peace with a group of disabled children

We saw workers put in straining situations, limited by resources, working hard in some cases just to keep people safe and alive. Three women for almost 50 profoundly disabled immobile children and adults is not enough. Or how about three women for 75 profoundly mentally disabled children, children who can walk, some can talk, get into trouble, hurt themselves and each other, who need hugs and stimulation and therapy. Three women. I can't imagine three women for 75 healthy children, forget about 75 very needy children. The shortage of staff isn't Dom Veternik's fault, the government sets the ratio of workers to patients, and it's not the governments fault, they are struggling to rebuild their country after difficult times and in a challenging economy. It's the nature of life, there are always poor, helpless, and weak people, there are always people trying to help without enough resources. It's a waste of time to look for who's at fault. Better to pitch in and help.

Anna, me, Jana, Nichole, and Marina at Dom Veternik

And that's what I want to do. Because now Zoran and Srdjan, Anna, Marina, Jana, Lubitza, and Dragana are our friends. They work in different roles in the institution, administrating, teaching and caring. Nikola, Borin, Petra, Luca and many others are also our friends, they live in different spaces, with different needs, inside of Dom Veternik. Love doesn't judge, love helps, love finds the good, love sees God's mercy extended to all of his creation and joins in. God is obviously not finished with Serbia and neither am I. These friendships are just the beginning. Now it's time to pray harder, love deeper, and work more! Who's with me?

Srdjan and Nichole shopping for Dom Veternik

I'm working on the next steps and I'm excited about what God is going to do. Nichole and I have lots of ideas! The first thing I need to do is begin a non-profit organization. And to do that I need a name. I want you to help me! What do you think would be a good name for an organization partnering with the disabled of Serbia to help give them hope, dignity and a better life? Give it your best shot and leave your suggestions in the comment section below. If I choose one of your suggestions I'll send you a Starbucks gift card!

An Overdue Lullaby

(Just so you know from the outset I'm posting pictures here that may be emotional or difficult to see)

I've had a pent up lullaby in my heart for weeks, maybe months, building and growing. A song of love to be sung, looking for people who need singing to. It tumbled out today, soft and low. I knelt down beside metal cribs and held stiff hands and sang quietly, "Jesus paid it all, all to him I owe, sin had left a crimson stain he washed it white as snow." I'm not sure why that song, it just bubbled up. Every one of the little ones I sang to  smiled and turned to me at the sound of the song.

As I sang I reached through the bars to touch them. Some flinched to be touched. Many smiled and made whatever sound they were able. Some grabbed hold and didn't want to let go. That was the hardest, prying their fingers off of mine.

There are 12 rooms, four to a room, beds filled with precious souls locked in a broken shell. We saw what looked like emaciated twelve year-olds who were actually almost as old as us. The workers do everything they can but it's not enough. Three workers for almost 50 immobile patients, I don't know how they cope.

All but a few drink from bottles a liquid diet that keeps them just alive. But these patients don't know how to chew and there isn't time to teach them, the risk of anything thicker is too high.

So legs that were made for walking are sticks so fragile they can easily be broken when they are moved. 

I can't be angry though. There was too much love on that floor. The story of twisted bodies, self injuring behavior, malnutrition, it's not the only story. A picture can paint a harsh reality but eyes that see bear witness to the other side. Nurse Lubitza blew kisses, sang songs, held hands, and loved on her residents. She is no ordinary woman and these little ones are blessed to have her as their caregiver. The staff knows the patients self injure because they need attention, are board and lonely. They know the patients need more, so much more than they can give and it frustrates them.

There are three working wheelchairs for 50 residents. Taking them to the bathroom to be bathed, or taking them outside in the fresh air occasionally is terribly limited because of the lack of equipment, not to mention the lack of hands. It isn't for an absence of care but rather a shortage of resources. And so they do what they can. They wipe drool and change diapers and smile and hope one day for something better.

Lubitza watched me sing and hold hands and bend low. She asked, "do you have places like this in America?" I told her I had never seen anything like this. She asked, "are there more like you, who would come and help us?" I told her I knew there were some who cared. Then she said, "You would be good at this, it takes a special person to do this job, you have a kind heart." Thank you Jesus! Best compliment I've ever received!

As I left she thanked me. "Will you come back," she asked. I hope so, oh, I hope so! Until then I will continue to pray, "But you, God, see the trouble of the afflicted;  you consider their grief and take it in hand. The victims commit themselves to you;  you are the helper of the fatherless." The job is beyond what one or even a handful of people can accomplish, but with God, now that's a different story!

{If you would like to be involved in helping the children of Serbia feel free to send me an email or facebook message. I'm working on a non-profit organization to respond to the need I found in the Dom Veternik mental institution. You can continue to follow that journey by subscribing to this blog or liking my facebook page.}

Where I am Home

Time moves differently in Serbia. I don't know if it's the pace of this culture or that I'm so outside of my own routine. I loose track of time and days feel longer. I feel like I've been away from home for a week already. Never has an experience been so sweet and so hard (except maybe childbirth and that's all together different).

I've been praying for Serbia for months, and you all have listened so patiently to me as I have! I was surprised that I didn't cry the first night we were in Serbia and exhausted from hours of travel and a lack of sleep. I didn't cry when I saw a little boy the size of a ten year old, who actually isn't much younger than my 32 year old sister, bent with cerebral palsy lying in a crib. No, I cried at church, two days after we had been here. I cried at the beauty of seeing the people I've been praying for, my brothers and sisters in Jesus. I cried when I heard "Blessed Be Your Name" sung in Serbian and I joined my voice in English to worship our Father.

Few experiences in my life have been as poignant and victorious as standing in the midst of a people I'm coming to love and proclaiming our faith in the living God who made us all. Nichole and I have been so blessed by friendship here in Serbia.

On Saturday we met up with Gordana. Infectious, funny, passionate, Gordana who graciously took us under her wing and offered us the bond of sisterhood. We had a wonderful time of sharing our hearts, our lives, and our dreams. I love the body of Christ, wherever I find it I AM HOME! The first few days here were intimidating but when we walked into church the strain slipped off our shoulders and our hearts were lifted.

Tomorrow we go back to the institution. Honestly I can't describe the mixture of emotions. Dread, humble gratitude, longing, fear, excitement, I don't know. The task is overwhelming, over 600 bodies, big and little, all at different stages of health and need, all requiring attention. We actually haven't seen the worst of the worst yet and I can't imagine any worse.

"God reigns over the nations;  God is seated on his holy throne. The nobles of the nations assemble, as the people of the God of Abraham, for the kings of the earth belong to God;   he is greatly exalted." Psalm 47

God is the God of Serbia, he reigns and rules over all the people of the earth. Over the wealthy and the poor, the strong and the weak. What a relief that I am not responsible for even one of them. When I step foot in the institution I will remember it is God who is king and it is my role to serve. 

Dear friends let me ask you once again to pray. On Friday we walked through most of the institution. We saw, we heard, we touched, but tomorrow we will sit down and hold and play and hug. It will be even more difficult for me and I need prayer for a right and holy perspective and for so much grace. Thank you once again for your love and support! 

How Could I Have Known

I find myself breathless, surrounded by laundry, suitcases, and to do lists. If I knew then what I know now I wonder if I would have risked praying a reckless prayer of abandon. It was easy to pray at the time, from my comfortable bedroom, surrounded by love and hope. "God, show me your heart, teach me what you love, show me what makes you grieve."

How could I have known how seriously he would take that request. I should have known, nothing delights the Father's heart like intimacy, a child drawing near to know and be known. He leaned in and whispered, "redemption." Painting in broad brush strokes he showed vividly my own adoption, once a black-hearted enemy, now a beloved child. 

Why would I think the privilege of knowing infinite love wouldn't come without risk or response? If I had known then that I would be boarding an airplane to fly for hours to a country I don't know, would I have asked the question? Maybe had I known the amazing panorama having Holy Spirit eyes would open up, I would have asked earlier. 

Seeing the suffering of others is overwhelming. I'm counting on a couple of things to keep me from drowning in the pain of other people's loss. I'm not responsible for their pain, I can't take responsibility for their situation or their rescue. It's God that takes responsibility for the orphan and outcast, but he has issued an invitation to his people to participate in the rescue of the lost and broken. That's where you and I fit, in the crook of his heart, the bend of mercy and suffering. He provides the power,the motivation, the mercy. I join in. 

I'm also counting on his love. I don't doubt it, can't be separated from it, that cosmic heartbeat beating for his little ones. I'm counting on his real, bloody love extended to me and extended to the man huddled alone locked in filth and disconnected from reality. I'm counting on the love that upholds me, to heal the child living so deprived of human contact that they are actually afraid of people and of being touched. I believe it's real, a love strong enough to right every wrong. It's the only way I can willingly get on an airplane and fly directly into the darkness.

I'm also seeing Ephesians 2 lift itself off the page into real life. People, living stones, joined together by the same Spirit of love and power. Connecting to form the real life hands and feet, the very body, of Jesus. How could I ever go alone? But I'm not, the Holy Spirit in you connects to the Holy Spirit in me and together we lift a gift of love up to heaven on behalf of our precious Jesus. Every prayer prayed, every gift given, every encouraging word spoken, every hope spilled out links our hearts together and bears fruit. I'm witnessing it and I can't wait to tell you all about the impact it will have on the very least of humanity!

I will try to update here and on facebook as I travel. I'm not sure if I'll be allowed to post pictures of children or not, but I will warn you in the heading if the images are painful and I won't post them directly to facebook. Thank you friends for going with me!

{I'm linking with my friend Ellen for her Writing Prompt on Monday's. Today's prompt, If I Knew Then What I Knew Now. Ellen has been an integral part of my journey to Serbia.}