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

Un-surprised by Evil

Kermit Gosnell is you, and he's me; without the grace of Jesus active in our lives that is. I came to terms a long time ago that I was born with the cancer of evil pumping through my heart. Evil that I know could take me to dark places.

In our culture we tirade against evil and immoral people. My question is, why? Are we really surprised by sin and the media's inability to cover it accurately or well, or the governments ability to address it effectively? What I really want to know is are we moved enough to go places where people are ignorant, poor, desperate, trapped and meet the need? Are we willing to walk into darkness?

Is there a reason we think evil is going to give up the fight, roll over, and play dead? Why are we outraged when people act exactly as the Bible tells us they will without the illumination of truth? Why do we judge those who are already judged.

Of course what Gosnell and many, many others has done is disgusting and outrageous. But I don't see anywhere that Jesus was outraged by people, except by religious dead men carrying out a show, hording mercy for only those deemed worthy in their own minds.

What happened to the women and children at Gosnell's hands is gut-wrenching. But is it so different than what has happened for years to thousands of babies and women? Just because there is documentation of perfectly formed, breathing babies that died in his clinic does it make the legal death of a 15 week old pre-born baby less messy or heartbreaking?

Can there really be shades of death? Sin is sin, death is death. (Tweet This)

I wonder if our surprise over evil speaks of insulation. Let's don't insulate ourselves from the heartbreak and evil of this world. Babies die daily by the hundreds at the hands of violent men. Outside of our homes lies the carnage of sin, sometimes right at our very doorstep.

It's hard, I know, at moments to look. To truly see the socially awkward woman who was once a badly abused child. To witness the starvation of whole people groups. To know of children who suffer a life of not belonging. To look full faced into the eyes of a dying world. So very hard.

But let's go on and assume that today in our town a desperate woman will walk into a clinic and suffer violence to the very core of her motherhood and body, and in the process become an accomplice to death. Let's assume the worst around us. And then lets get involved.

Why not be the nosy neighbor, the concerned friend, the voice of truth, the one who goes into dark places for a rescue mission? I wonder about those babies and women who lost their lives at Gosnell's hands. What if? What if a church patrolled the area looking for victims to rescue, would they have died?

Of course we can't prevent every death, every wound, every violence. The question is, do we try? I'm asking myself. And I'm asking you. I wonder, where is the wound in my community? How can I be the one that Jesus uses today to run a raid on the enemy camp and bring the captive home?

I don't want to be surprised when the evil of my community, of my world, raises it's head. I want to already have been there, looking for the vulnerable to rescue from it's grip. Perhaps those are noble and idealistic dreams but I've always been a crusader I don't intend on stopping now.

How do you respond to the evil of the world, of your community? I'd love to hear about what you are doing to reach out to the broken around you! Inspire us!

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? 

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!

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

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.}

Expressing Faith

The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love. Galatians 5:6b

What a beautiful thought. Impossibly hard if we focus on ourselves. Amazingly liberating when we realize it's the life Jesus has invited us in to and equipped us for.

Faith being expressed through love has been on my mind for the last few days. It's what I pray for and am counting on for this coming week. My heart catches as I anticipate what feels like a free fall into grace, exciting and scary, but I have faith it's what God made me for.

My friend Nichole and I leave in three days for Serbia! How is it possible that the dream has become a reality?

On this coming Wednesday evening at 6pm Nichole and I will board a plane headed for Frankfurt, Germany. A couple of hours later we will fly to Belgrade, Serbia. From there we will bus to Novi Sad. If all goes well we will arrive in Novi Sad around dinnertime on Thursday!

Friday morning the real journey begins. We will meet with the staff of Dom Veternik, a mental institution housing both adults and children, and touring the facility. For the six days we're in Serbia we will be spending as much time as possible building friendships, learning about the institution, and interacting with the residents.

On Saturday we will also be connecting with Christians in Novi Sad that God has brought us in contact with, including joining them for church! I'm excited about making friends wherever we can.

As we prepare to go won't you join in praying with us? Here are some tangible things we could use prayer for:

• Our families as we're apart, for their peace and our safety. Calm as we fly for hours (I dislike flying!).
• Good relationships to be built with the staff of the institution and Christians in Novi Sad.
• Our heart's to be in tune with Jesus heart. For us to walk in confident humility, grace, joy, and compassion. For us to have tough stomachs and peace. 
• For Nichole and myself to experience a unity of spirit and purpose.
• For open hearts to hear God's direction during this visit, as well as to determine the next steps he would have us take.

We couldn't and wouldn't want to go alone. We take your encouragement and prayers with us, lifting us up and reminding us of the grace God has called us to! Thank you friends for helping us to express faith through love!

Different than Expected

Almost five years ago now, when I was growing little Maggie in my tummy, I prayed a strange prayer. I remember telling God that if he wanted to give us a child that had Down syndrome it would be okay with me. Secretly I even hoped he would.

Isn't that strange? To ask for a child with a disability. I reasoned in my prayer that I wouldn't mind at all if my child had Down syndrome, while another parent might find it a burden, "so God why not give them to me", I concluded. You see I had known for a while that children with Down syndrome are a treasure. Whenever I would see one I melted and would stare longingly. I still do.

But God had other plans. We celebrated the birth of a perfectly healthy, wonderfully precious baby girl. I was content, our family complete. I put the notion of having a child with Down syndrome out of my head. For a time.

I don't know if I've ever told anyone of that conversation with God, of that secret desire. It sounded a little strange, even to me, and I'm thoroughly aware of my oddness. The thing is I don't think that longing came from any other heart than God's.

I don't have a child with Down syndrome, and I may never, although it is an ongoing petition. But perhaps God answered that prayer anyway. His solution? If I couldn't have my own then I would make the unwanted ones of the world mine; through prayer, by serving those I can, and one day perhaps through adoption .

It is different than I expected, but I purpose to take joy in all of the precious children and adults around the world who have added a different shade of beauty to our lives. In just a few short weeks my arms will get their fill of little ones with Down syndrome, autism, cerebral palsy, etc. Little bodies needing hugs as much as my arms need to give them!

What in your life has been different than expected?

{I'm linking up with Ellen Stumbo for her Writing Prompt on Mondays.}

More Than Enough

I feel like whispering instead of shouting which is a little odd given the news I have to share. I can only imagine it's because I am truly humbled by God's generosity and yours.

God has supplied $2,600 for the trip to Serbia, and there is more on the way! At least $400 more has been promised. Not only has God provided enough, he's given even more!

The extra from travel expenses will be used on the trip to buy supplies for the residents of Dom Veternik.

Perhaps I feel quiet and introspective because now the enormous task of following Jesus into uncharted territory looms ahead. Or because I truly feel solemn to be included in the plans God has for loving others. How do you prepare your heart to meet and bond with people who live on the other side of the world?

Maybe it's because I know my own frail humanity, my weaknesses and fears, maybe I know this is the most intense thing I've ever attempted and I know it will take complete surrender and trust to follow in Jesus' footsteps.

Whatever the reason, as much as I am excited I'm intensely humbled. Thank you friends for loving with me. For taking the time to hear Jesus in my sometimes garbled words, for dreaming and imagining with me, for showing me what generosity looks like!

I shouldn't be surprised. Jesus is always more than enough!

(To learn more about our trip to Serbia read go to my Journey to Serbia page.)

Far From Home

I have been "far from home" for a long time. When I started this blog I named it Beck Far From Home for two reasons. The most obvious being that Wyoming, where I lived at the time, was a significant distance from my Georgia roots. 

Living in a land wildly different from what I knew, longing for the familiar, highlighted the second reason for my homesickness. The longing was just a reminder that Home is a deeper truth my heart is searching for. My heart agrees with the psalmist cry, "Lord, through all the generations you have been our home!" (Psalm 10) I live in eager anticipation for the day my body will experience the reality my heart already knows, where Jesus is there is my home.

Lately a new homesickness has surfaced. My heart has taken flight and wanders outside of itself longing to be with those Jesus loves. What could compel a journey far from home to be with a people who are not my own? Only the grand love of the Father. What compels me to walk out the doors of my house into the messy life of a neighbor? Only Jesus grace.

My imagination is being caught up in the wonder of what God has planned for a nation. My heart is captured, becoming a co-conspirator, by his love for a needy little boy just across the street. God's deep desire to reconcile all mankind to himself compels me, and has set a new kind of homesickness in my heart. I have a new awareness of being far from home. I long to be where Jesus is. I hear him calling from an ancient land, from the halls of people institutionalized in their suffering. And he's calling in the voice of a tongue tied preschooler, with speech so broken it makes me wince. "Love sees, love goes, and love is present."

I choose to see the neighbor, the needy foreigner; I choose to move toward them in their pain and loneliness; I choose to sit with them in their need being the ears that listen, the hands that sooth, the shoulder that gives rest. I wonder how much I'm really blessing though because truly I'm the one being blessed. I didn't know it was possible to love a child that isn't your own so fiercely. That surprise can only be due to the years I've spent loving like a legalist and not like a Servant. I choose love only because Love chose me. 

My heart hears it's Love call and leaves home but I'm learning, that in a sense, it's impossible to leave my home because it's always been Jesus.

When Serbia Calls Your Name

A package came in the mail yesterday. It held the exciting promise of travel to Serbia. My passport! I've been itching to post an update but it hasn't been time, until now.

I'm excited to say that God is continuing to unfold his plans to show compassion to his dear ones in Veternik, Serbia's mental institution. I want to invite you to partner with me. Won't you lean in close and see Jesus in the midst of the broken?

I'm thrilled to tell you that I'm at the make it happen stage of this trip and it's time for action. As I said before, I have my passport. I also have my travel companion.  I haven't gotten permission from her to share her name publicly yet, so I'll have to tell you that later. But I can say that I see God's finger prints all over this partnership. We've been friends for many years and I'm thrilled to share this experience with her. I believe we complement each other well and her gifts will be excellent for this trip. Her experience working with disabled children weekly in her job will be invaluable.

We will travel sometime in October and stay for up to two weeks. During our time at Dom Veternik we will meet with the staff to discuss their needs and how we can help. We anticipate touring their facility and spending time with the disabled children and adults residing there. I'm also praying for good opportunities to make contact with other Christians in the area who would be willing to partner with us long term.

When we arrive at the institution my desire is for us to not show up empty handed. Ultimately this trip, and any future ministry, is about showing Jesus' great love for them personally. I believe the best way to do this is to represent him well by showing joy, affection, humility, hope, kindness, and generosity. One of the ways to do this is by helping them with the needs they are facing. Serbia is a country still recovering from war not too many years past. The lack of resources affects the vulnerable of their society most.

Material Needs:

I asked a staff member for a list of things they are in need of. Here are some of the items they listed:

Hygiene products; toothpaste, tooth brushes, deodorant, soap, shampoo, diapers, etc.
Linens; sheets and towels
Clothes and shoes of various sizes
Non-English Educational materials; educational toys such as puzzles or blocks, paper, pencils, craft supplies

If your church or family is interested in putting together a box of some of these items to send to the institution please let me know and I can provide further details for you.

What you can do:

If God has laid it on your heart to respond to these needs there are a few ways you can do that.

* You can pray. 
Pray that God would prepare hearts to hear his message of grace and receive his love, both the staff and residents.
Pray that he would empower us as we go to show that love.
Pray that he will provide for every detail as we travel and for our families still at home.

* Send a box. As mentioned above you can help provide material resources for this institution, a tangible expression of love to the staff and residents alike.

* You can give. If you feel God leading you to contribute financially to this trip you can give through the chip in box on the side bar of this blog or if you prefer you can contact me and send a check personally. Expenses include airfare, accommodation and food, an interpreter, and travel in country.

* Spread the word. You can share this post with others that you feel would be blessed by hearing what God is doing in Serbia or would like to join in by praying and supporting.

Thank you friends for your encouragement and prayers as we prepare to walk by faith and respond to God's call to care for the helpless!

It excites me that God invites us to participate in the reconciling of the world to himself. You may not be heading to Serbia any time soon but you can certainly display the mercy of Jesus to those hungry for his love in your community. I pray that he will give us all eyes to see and hearts to respond.

{We are no longer planning on sending boxes of supplies to Serbia. Due to the high cost of shipping and customs it is more cost effective to buy supplies in the country. If you are interested in contributing to the purchase of supplies for the residents of Dom Veternik you can contribute through the Chip In account, or contact me about sending a check. Make sure to note the purpose of your contribution.}

Freedom's Cry

I wanted to share with you a short story I recently submitted to a writing contest at The Write Practice. The prompt was "America Is." Instead of a typical piece on fireworks and apple pie, I took another angle.


It's a hard story to read. It was hard to write. The story is fiction but it is based on research I have done on human trafficking in India. Girls, such as the one depicted in my story, are real. The greatest gift we can give them is to look full faced at their suffering and not turn away. To allow their need and our compassion to compel us to action. 

Nazeeya sat on her little cot looking at a patch of sky through the small window high above her head. It had been days since she had seen the whole expanse of that blue or smelled fresh air. It had been days since she had seen anything, except the walls of her prison, and men.

She imagined her younger sisters, her mother, her father all sitting under the same blue sky. Did they looking up as they tended the garden in their little village and think of her too? The ache in her chest grew tight, almost too tight to breathe, as she remembered the last day she had seen them.

Her father had brought a strange man to the house. He was at least twice Nazeeya's 15 years. A cold chill had shivered down her spine as he was introduced as her prospective husband. His name was Abhijay. “He will offer a home to you,” her father had said. “You know we have little to feed you with. Women in his village are scarce and he needs a wife.”

Her parents had little choice, and she knew it. There was no reason to argue. Had they known her fate they may have been less willing to part with her, even for the modest payment. Abhijay had taken her hundreds of miles away to a village in the province of Delhi. But a marriage had never taken place. She had lived with him as a wife for several weeks and then he had sold her
at a profit.

The new man had not bought her to be his wife either. She was taken to the outskirts of New Delhi and given into the custody of Avani. The old woman had charge of a house full of girls. They rarely saw one another but she could guess their stories. They were poor, with little hope, and now even less.

She pulled her blue sari around her and swatted away flies. Dressed in azure from head to toe she was the only bright spot in the drab, dirty room. The greyness had crept into her soul until she felt nothing. Except perhaps the faintest glimmer of irrational hope.

Reaching under the thin mattress of her cot she pulled out a magazine. Written in English she understood none of the articles or advertisements. She did understand the pictures. Images of well dressed, well fed people smiled at her. Pretty houses and pretty things, bright colors and unfamiliar landscapes spoke to her of beauty and wonder.

One page in particular captured her attention; a man in a uniform, his arm around a woman, children by their side. There were pictures of him getting off of a plane surrounded by his family all holding little flags. A picture of him
playing with a dog in front of a nice house, the same flag hanging from a pole. Red, white, and blue. She knew what that meant. America.

It was her one hope. Even more than returning home she longed for a new life in America. There was nothing for her here. If she went home would she be sold again? Her parents couldn't afford a dowry, or to keep her, which is why they had sold her in the first place.

She tore out the picture of the family standing happily together, flag waving proudly in the background. Folding it carefully into a square she tucked it into her dress beside her heart. Quickly she slid the magazine back to it's hiding
place. She never knew when the key would grate in the lock or who
would enter.

Several hours later Nazeeya was awoken by Avani storming into the room. Yelling at her. Hitting her with a heavy stick. She makes out from the woman's shrill screams that she has committed the ultimate sin. She's become pregnant. Apparently a customer has complained about her condition. Angry at the inconvenience and loss of income the old woman takes her anger out on Nazeeya's thin, already bruised body.

It's dusk and Avani's blows drive Nazeeya from the room and into the courtyard where the man waits for her in an dirty black jeep. The old woman throws her into the back and shuts the door. Huddling in the floor Nazeeya glances up at the strong back and bald head of her owner. Trembling she rides in silence as the houses slip away and fields flash by in the twilight.

She knows she will never make it to the land of promise as he roughly drags her from the backseat into the empty field. Fumbling for the page tucked into her clothes as she's dragged along, she reaches for hope even now. Her eyes fall on the smiling faces and bright flag as the man shoves her to the ground, planting her face in the dirt with his boot.

Nazeeya's heart races to the sound of steel as he unsheathes his Gurkha knife. Freedom comes in many forms. She closes her eyes against the harsh world. With a whoosh of his blade her red blood stains the brilliant blue of her sari and splatters her crumpled hope.

***
Freedom shouldn't be a commodity we posses but a way in which we live. I think it's important, and a gift, to use our freedom for the good of others. If you're interested in responding to the need, here is a website that sells jewelry made by young women rescued from the horrors of human trafficking, offering them dignity and hope, setting them free. http://www.isanctuary.org/home

All for Love

My heart wanders the halls of an institution I've never been to. Images of ragged children, too small, and vacant eyed impose themselves over the ordinariness of my day. Brokenness tangible, in flesh and bone. 

The situation for Serbia's orphans is slowly beginning to improve, in the capital city especially. Once closed, the door of adoption for these little ones is opening wider, laws are changing. And yet in rural areas small children are still neglected. Disabled children are denied medical care, deemed unworthy. 

When I look into the eyes of my crying toddler, arms reached to her source of comfort immediately I think of tiny ones with no mommy to cry out too. Left alone in cribs, their hearts sinking in on themselves. As I shush my curly haired beauty my heart whispers to hidden babies, "hold on, I'm coming."

Suffering compels. It's what gets the tennis shoes on and the plane ticket bought, it turns divinity into human DNA, a midnight visit to a manger, finishes the work on a rugged cross. Suffering begs for a response, and we've been set the example. 2 Samuel 22:7,10-11, “In my distress I called to the LORD; I called out to my God. From his temple he heard my voice;  my cry came to his ears... He parted the heavens and came down; dark clouds were under his feet. He mounted the cherubim and flew; he soared on the wings of the wind." Love comes when we call.

My husband says I'm obsessed. He may be right, but I'm not sure I'm ready to apologize for it yet. Without a bit of obsession I would turn back. The hurdles of getting from here to Serbia take my breath away. But, we're on a rescue mission, all of us. And rescue missions are costly, demanding time, money, comfort, etc. In God's case, his rescue mission, his obsession ended in the loss of his Beloved, all for his little ones. So, maybe I'm obsessed or maybe I'm possessed. The heart of the gospel is rescue, my life for yours, love poured out, and that love indwells me, compelling me to imitate.

My dream is to form a team to go to Serbia to touch and care for orphans in any way we can. There is so much to be done. One thing I'm learning about rescue missions; to be accomplished they take unity. Even God's rescue is a partnership, it's the Father's mercy that compels, the Son's blood that covers, the Spirit's power that accomplishes. The same is true for us, missions are accomplished when we unite in purpose and devotion.

Will you join in praying? Pray that doors will be opened to go, people will be moved to join in, and resources will be provided. But mostly pray that we will have hearts like Jesus and that little lives, so broken, would respond to love poured out. Let's pray that the church of Jesus everywhere will reach out in courageous love.

How can I pray for you? Who are you burdened to love, where are your feet taking you in the name of Jesus?