tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68777653374260186822024-03-13T10:15:14.292-07:00doorsDoorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-57755080698120344802018-03-21T04:22:00.003-07:002018-03-21T04:22:47.522-07:00Snapped ! <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I’m kinda looking at God going “Okay, okay, God, I get it. My strength is not enough.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And it never will be. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I feel like I’m flailing around a kiddie sized swimming pool panicking that I don’t know how to swim, when all I really need to do is stand up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">This past year has been grueling, trying, heart breaking, pushing me further than I ever thought I could or would be pushed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I feel like I snapped a long time ago, but today I feel like I’ve reached this semi-crazy place where you just look at where you are, what you’re doing, how you’re standing, and all you can do is laugh. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Recently, our adoption finished, which should be like this huge, awesome hallelujah, right ? It’s more been like a final push to get the name change, the birth certificate, the passport, and apply for the visa. See, I had this really brilliant plan that I was going to have the first three things done by the time my husband gets here on Saturday. Then he could simply take all the paperwork home and apply for the visa from New Zealand. Doesn’t that sound awesome ? My alternative is shipping all my originals to South Africa, the closest New Zealand embassy. It frankly has been funny how hard I have pushed to get this paperwork done, and how nothing has happened. One month later. I’m still like a mosquito just buzzing around the mosquito net and can’t escape. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>On Sunday, I started a fundraiser because due to huge changes going on in DOORS, four of the most important people in my life may not have the chance to finish school. We need to raise $15,000 in the next two months to keep them housed, fed, and in school for the next two years until they can graduate high school. I started the fundraiser and within the first hour someone had donated $50. I was ecstatic ! Here we go, God, time to roll in the money !!! And that $50 sat there….and sat there….and sat there. I’m pretty sure I clicked refresh at least 500 times before I went to bed that night. I was so confused. I woke up the next morning and that $50 was still staring at me. I wanted to scream. God, don’t you see how there will be nothing for my boys if this money doesn’t get raised ? </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Then today, oh today was really special. I have a place where I keep money saved away for different things. I have my son’s passport money that I recently withdrew from the ATM sitting there. Or it was sitting there. I looked for it today and all the money is there, except for that little envelope with the passport money. Nobody has entered our house since I withdrew that money. I most certainly have not been robbed. Did the envelope jump out of the lock box ? Yeah, maybe that’s what happened. I frantically begin searching my room, shaking every piece of clothing I have, tearing the sheets off of my bed, fanning through every paper in our adoption file at least 5 times. Nowhere. Nothing. What? An hour later, I ended up laying on the cold tile floor pouring sweat, staring at the ceiling, thinking, “God, are you just messing with me? Are you just trying to show me how much I need you?” I’m still kind of convinced that He is and I’ll probably find that envelope laying under my bed tonight. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; line-height: normal;"><b> </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: Arial; line-height: normal;"><b> </b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30 </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The yoke has not been easy, and the burden has not been light. And that’s nobody’s fault except for mine. I’m ready to throw out the bowling balls I’ve been carrying on my back, and walk uninhibited.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’m at that point where my natural instinct is to push harder, work later, advertise more, look in the ceiling tiles of my room, push until whatever tiny scraps of strength I still seem to be in control of have totally disappeared and I have absolutely nothing left….</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’m also at that point where I need to give up, where giving up won’t be giving up, where giving up will look a lot like surrendering. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Surrendering to God’s timing, to the fact that He is so in control. Surrendering my fear for trust that God is a provider, that those are his boys, not my boys. Surrendering to the fact that the past few weeks I have been stressed out and slightly running crazy, and there is a high chance that I hid that money in a sock packed away in a suitcase in storage and thought it was a good idea at the time…..and surrendering to the fact that ok, that is not the end of the world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Once I’ve put those things down, it’s really easy to just sit here and laugh like a semi-crazy person at how hard I’ve been trying, and realize it’s time to eat some chocolate, chill, and trust God to do what He says He is going to do. </span></div>
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-56541490679969385012016-07-13T02:02:00.001-07:002016-07-13T02:03:38.669-07:00thieves<div style="font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Last week we had thieves try to rob our house in the middle of the night. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We were fine, they didn’t get very far thanks to our excellent guard dogs. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It’s not the first time something like this happened, so it didn’t bother me in that way. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m white, most people in this country think I’m filthy rich. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The disturbing thing was that there were a few misplaced items in our yard that indicated that the thieves knew where we kept those items. We were being watched ! I couldn’t shake that feeling the next few days and found myself looking over my shoulder….as cliche as that sounds. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I felt myself withdrawing from my neighbors and people that I pass walking near my house every day. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Thinking to myself - “ What if I’m smiling and greeting the man who just tried to rob me ?! I have no clue it’s him, but he definitely knows it’s me and he walks away laughing to himself at this silly mzungu!” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It clicked in my brain about how off that sounded. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I realized how many innocent people I could snub, how many enemies I could refuse to love. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I realized that my snubbery wasn’t going to protect anything except for my pride. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I chose to take the Word literally… “ to love my enemies” and “to love my neighbors as myself.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was humbling to put my smile back on. It was even more humbling to search the depths of my heart to find the love that goes behind it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Choosing to love again - a culture and a people that I’ve been burned by too many times to count. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That’s what trust is - laying down our treasure, laying down what’s precious to us, and believing that it will bear fruit.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Things that make us feel rich and comfortable, things we value, parts of who we are - laying them down so that our hands can be empty to plow, to sow, to reap, to harvest….</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And to rejoice.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This year’s been harder than most. Maybe tumultuous would be a good word for it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Some days I feel 100% OK, and most others I feel like a 100% absurd basket case. It’s been hard to share that with people. I probably should have been more vulnerable, but in those raw moments where you’re trying to figure out what the heck you’re doing with your life and 1000 places sound better than where you are, the last thing you want to hear is …</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“But look at all you’ve done !” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“You can always go home” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I had to choose to invest in people who were going to bring me to feet of my Comforter. I knew that’s where I needed to be, and I knew if I took comfort in the fact that I and done enough and I could go home now….then I may have just done that. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I believe I’m on an upward climb out of the valley of dry bones. I believe I’ve seen that place and laid there long enough. I believe God has asked me to be transparent and vulnerable. I believe God has asked me to love my neighbor and speak life over death. I believe God has asked me to see myself the way that He sees me, and if I can do that - than I won’t be walking out of the valley by myself. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I can’t love someone well if I don’t love myself. If you’re bucking against the way that God made you, it will be very hard to see the goodness and glory in our brothers and sisters without having bitterness, envy, jealousy, and hurt. You will see the log in your eye so clearly and you will be anxious to point out the stick in someone else’s. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I’m pretty sure that’s it’s 100% impossible to give God praise for the way that He made you, if you don’t trust Him. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I can’t tell you how many times the past few months that I’ve cried out to the Lord asking to be loved by Him and for Him to help me to love Him. Once I got over this hurdle of realizing that I can’t be loved by someone I’m not trusting, I lay down my burdens and all that I think I have to carry, and fully just flopped into His love like a big, fluffy pillow.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m sure there’s a really fancy theological term for this, but here’s what I’ve found one of my biggest hindrances in trusting the Lord has been this year…. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ve been letting my overwhelming circumstances creep in and project themselves on how I view God. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Instead of letting my God project Himself over my circumstances. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As I see Him clearly, I can see myself clearly - and only then I can love my neighbors as I love myself. When I see His worthiness, my struggles are swallowed up in His peace and I’m comforted by His hope. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Trusting that He is who He says He - despite the world around me, the loneliness that can swamp me, the bank account that can haunt me, and the thieves in my back yard.</span></div>
Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-53474372729743806852016-01-21T04:39:00.000-08:002016-01-21T04:39:14.234-08:00Red Cups <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I’ve been pretty upset with social media lately. I've had a hard time blogging because of that. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: 0px;">We can not buy from God. He holds the keys to death and to hell, He owns everything on the earth. He does not fit into ‘our culture.’ He is above culture, and above reproof. Throughout cultures and generations, He has stood </span><span style="font-size: 14px;">unchanging</span><span style="font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> beyond reproof, beyond doubt, above lust, and above shame. You can not receive the next best thing from Him and you can enter into a relationship with Him for the glory of yourself. He is not our next biggest adventure or an avenue to make the most out of our life. He is not an excuse to blog about all the cool things you do every day. He is not simply a scripture above a picture of an orphan that you once knew. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">He is a call to come and die. Die to your culture, to your will, to your desire to make the most of yourself, and to your desire for earthly praise. To die to receiving your value from what you do, what you post on instagram, and die to your desire to change the world. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Die: shift the world, change the earth, by entering into eternal life in the kingdom. One life dead to the flesh. Not to make yourself a better person, but a NEW person. Not for your own good, but for the glory of His name. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">We preach a diluted gospel when we preach “Come to Jesus and He will make your life better.” We begin teaching that God is merely a supplement, a tool. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">We withhold His glory from Him when we withhold the truth that God gives us NEW LIFE - not just simply makes the old life good. We withhold His glory when we don’t acknowledge that there is death to the flesh. We cannot live two lives, it’s one or the other. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">God is not a self-help book. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">He is not merely a means of reaching a better place. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Do not be a teacher that coaches your flock into half-hearted surrender. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">We can not come to God to better our lives, we come to God to LOSE our lives.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I came to God when I realized that this world had nothing for me, and that He desired to give me NEW life. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">His worthiness lead me unto death. He did not come to make my life on this earth better. The King of Kings and the Lord of Lords died a death on a the cross because of the worthiness, and kindness, and HOLINESS of the Father — and the Father desires for his children to have LIFE.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">He is worthy of the lives that He paid for. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">His desire is for the glory of God to rest on our faces. Worthy. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">His desire is for every person who has been hurt, betrayed, deceived, lonely, and unsatisfied by this world to have an abundant life with Him. Worthy. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">His worthiness is why we cry out for His children to receive life. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Jesus didn’t die to answer my earthly problems. He died so i can be in relationship with the Father, and my captivation and relationship with the Father is the source of all my joy, all of my identity, all of my love, all of my strength, and all of my satisfaction. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">When we attempt to walk in an effort to “fix ourselves,” we are not walking in new life. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">New life doesn’t need to be fixed, because it is made out of the perfect will of our perfect Father. God doesn’t desire to ‘fix’ his children, but to raise us up ! With love and discipline. That way, we can walk worthy of the calling He has placed on our lives - a calling to BE his child. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Not so that we can fix anything or anyone, but to Be his child : love God, love others, feed His sheep. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">We live in a world in which everyone desires for their voice to be heard, for their life to be glorified. We are so easily offended because we are continuously putting ourselves “out there” instead of letting ourselves die. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">As believers, we have to remember and renew our minds every day that our battle is not against flesh and blood. It’s not against red cups or whatever is the trending social media argument. It’s not against your fellow brother. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">"I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." - Galatians <span class="" tabindex="0"><span class="">2:20</span></span></span></div>
Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-39997081589715608832015-07-01T23:52:00.004-07:002015-07-01T23:52:44.076-07:00Painting <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My earthly father is a painter. He’s an astonishing one at that. In our old playroom back home, almost every inch of wall is covered with his finished artwork. Pieces he spent days, weeks, or even months completing. We recently were on vacation and for a week he couldn’t paint. While we were there, he didn’t long to be in the playroom gazing on every finished piece of art he had done. He longed to be PAINTING. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not him, so I can’t say what delights him the most, but I have observed him much throughout my life; and while he looks at and observes most of his finished paintings with satisfaction - his true delight is the actual painting. It’s the process. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s the days that he can put on his old grungy clothes, go upstairs into his studio, blast all kinds of ridiculously loud music, and stare at a half painted canvas. Those are the days he longs for. Those are the days that he delights in. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve seen the fear of not being ‘finished’ hold more people back than I can count. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I used to be one of them. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not ‘finished’ so I don’t have anything to offer right now. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not finished, I’m not 100% good, So I can’t walk out of the court room where the Judge just declared me PARDONED. He has given me another chance, ANOTHER LIFE, and I can’t walk out in it because I know I am going to mess it up. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can’t sit at the dinner table with my Dad, because I’m not ‘finished’ enough to be present myself in His presence. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When will stop trying to finish ourselves ? I can’t wait until I deem myself good enough to present myself before God. That day will never come ! </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Humility and meekness. </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seeing yourself exactly the way the Father sees you, nothing more, nothing less, and giving Him the power to correct you (to create, to paint, to shape, to mold) without defending yourself. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s not really about how I see myself. It’s about how He sees me. It’s about His heart. While I’m freaking out that I’m not finished, He is delighting in the creating. He has put on His old grungy clothes and is rocking out upstairs, simply delighted to have an unfinished canvas in front of Him. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He sees the slums of Kampala, the suburbs of America, and every where in between; His heart doesn’t sigh heavily over us and He doesn’t declare us “unfinished.” He rolls up His sleeves, turns up the music, and gets excited to paint. It’s His delight to paint. It’s His delight to create. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He’s not losing hope at how “unfinished” we appear to be. </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He’s calling out to the warriors, to the fearless bride, to the children of hope, to the fierce hearts of prayer, “ Come and paint with me ! ” </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.” Isaiah 64:8</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My earthly father's creations... </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-69156536789832346912015-04-15T02:24:00.000-07:002015-04-15T02:24:13.838-07:00DOORS Mission School <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Teacher Viola and her class </div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This is exciting ! And a little bit terrifying ! We are raising $2,500 to buy <i>high school </i>curriculum for the DOORS Mission school. This is equally exciting and terrifying because our boys have finally reached a high school level through the Accelerated Christian Education curriculum ! We are beyond proud of the hard work and ownership they have put into their education and meeting their personal educational goals. The curriculum we need to purchase includes the mandatory subjects, as well as supplemental learning materials for science labs, understanding math concepts, and speaking English. We need to purchase these materials by May 1! If you are interested in partnering with us to invest in the DOORS Mission school, please read below and follow the link to our blog where you can donate online. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">From the time we began the DOORS Home in 2012, we started an up-hill battle of trying to educate our boys in the home. They didn’t fit into the Ugandan school system. We had sixteen year olds that didn’t know their alphabet, fifteen year olds that hadn’t been to school in six years, and eleven year olds that were testing back into Primary 1 class (first grade). We homeschooled for a few months, hired teachers to tutor on the weekends, and the boys spent hours each night reading and studying trying to get ahead in class. Yet their dreams of finishing school and going to university were constantly being shot down by other children in the school nicknaming them the “grandpa’s” of the class, or teachers calling them out saying “you’re a man, and you don’t know this answer?” and schools merely passing them in different subjects because they were too old to be in the younger classes they were in, even if they didn’t understand the material. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There were many a night when the boys would come home from school, discouraged and beaten down. Their goals of finishing school appeared to be unreachable, and that led to a lot of rebellious behavior that stemmed from the belief that there was not a good future in front of them. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As a staff we had to address this on two levels: the first being to teach them to trust the Lord that there is a good future in front of them - a future that is better than they can imagine, dream, or ask for !! The second: we began to pray and seek for alternative ways to educate our children. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A friend of the ministry had mentioned the Accelerated Christian Education curriculum to me, and I began to research whether or not that could be a curriculum that our boys could excel in. As I studied the curriculum, I began to believe that our boys could begin this curriculum and be completing more than one grade of school in a year, and that we could use A.C.E. to rehabilitate our boys into the classes that they needed to be in. Our staff began to pray about this, because we didn’t have any contact to A.C.E. or any experience working with them. Later that week, I was at the basketball court of all places, and I made a new friend. A friend who asked what I did, and then introduced himself as a teacher who was trained in this homeschooling curriculum called A.C.E. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">God’s never late and never early….. He is perfect in timing and perfect in His ways ! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">With the help of our new friend, we began with one homeschooling classroom and targeted our older boys who were the furthest behind in school. Boys who had spent over a year and a half in school, yet still couldn’t read or speak English. Within three months, they were all reading and all speaking English. Within one year, most of them had covered at least two grades of school and were leaving elementary school behind. Not only completing these classes levels, but excelling in them!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Now, our homeschooling classroom has grown into the DOORS Mission School - a school that is targeting children within DOORS Ministries that are either within our homes or children of our staff members - that aims to meet each child’s specific educational needs. We have nineteen children within the school that are separated into three classrooms to best ensure and benefit each child’s learning, three teachers, and a school administrator (all who have now been trained and certified in the A.C.E. curriculum). Our school day consists of a morning worship service, the children working within their classrooms, and extracurricular classes each week of dance, football, p.e., or art. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Our teachers are phenomenal. Most of them have left behind their previous jobs as a response to God’s call to work with underprivileged children. They can not just “do their job,” its a huge personal and professional investment working with our children, and they do it with an excellence that comes after seeking God’s heart for his people. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The fruit that the DOORS Mission School is bearing (both physically and spiritually) is a testimony that the soil is good ! A soil built out of a belief that God has a plan for each one of us, a soil consisting of hearts that are humbled by the opportunities before them, and a soil that is focused on making sure that each individual receives the love, empowerment, time, and education that they deserve. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">To the right on our blog is where you can make an online contribution via paypal, if you are interested in investing in the DOORS Mission School and helping us purchase the curriculum we need. </span></div>
Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-87281076375183955292015-03-23T04:11:00.003-07:002015-03-23T04:11:21.537-07:00DOORS Farm LAND ! <div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">There’s a parable that says that a farmer went out and sowed good seed into his field. At night, an enemy came in and sowed bad seed among the good. The farmer could see that the bad seed had been sewn, but couldn’t uproot the bad seed without also uprooting the good. He had to let both fully grow to fruition, and then he first removed all of the bad fruit, before he could go through and harvest the good fruit.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This parable has resonated in my heart for the past year. When our leadership team started DOORS, we were young, like average age: twenty-two. We made a lot of mistakes. We played the game without setting the rules before we began. So while ultimately our desire was to be a ministry that was sowing that good seed, we had a lot of learning to do. There have been so many times that I have questioned God about whether He is who He says He is, or if He is going to do what He said He was going to do, because I was seeing ‘bad fruit’ rise up among the good fruit in this ministry. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last year, I constantly found myself reading and re-reading this parable. I found myself being challenged to believe Biblical truths that were not consistent with the ‘bad fruit’ I was seeing in our ministry, but were ultimately the truths of the Lord. To put it nicely, last year was a season of refinement. A season of creating systems and rules and building a strong leadership team in all areas of our ministry, that still had the freedom to be led by the Spirit but also was not working out of places of chaos. It was a year of tearing out that bad fruit. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As a ministry team, we know that the season to harvest our good fruit was coming. We have certainly been harvesting, and it has been more abundant and more plentiful than I could have ever asked, imagine, or dreamed of. Yes, we were young and inexperienced and made a lot of mistakes; however, this ministry was born out of a desire to see God’s glory expand across this country and this earth, and we did a heck of a lot of things right too ! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This past fall I kept hearing the Lord in times of prayer and worship and through his Word keep speaking to me to go out and look for land. I thought we were looking for land for our DOORS homes, and I began asking around. I had no idea how to look for land and we certainly didn’t have the money to buy land either. Yet, God kept telling me to go and look for land. He brought friends by my side that I trusted to go and look for land with, and I began this search. We found this incredible piece of land about fifteen minutes away from our current home. It was big enough to build at least four houses for our boys on it. We would be able to bring in a lot more kids. However, we began not to have peace about making that land the new place for our homes and our kids. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So then we went to the Lord in prayer, and began seeking “Well, what are we looking for land for?” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">God gave vision for this 1 acre plot. A vision of a farm that is teaching inner-city farming techniques to families in the Namuwongo and Kisinye slums that we work in. A sustainable farm that grows highly nutritious foods and vegetables for the homes, school and other DOORS programs directly targeting the health needs of the kids and families. A farm that our boys from our homes and the students from our school can go to, to learn how to farm and learn sustainability projects. A farm that hosts a small group of street kids - the hard kids, the drug addicts and the kids that nobody wants to invest in - once a week for program of farming, homecooked meal, counseling and discipleship outside of the city; to be a place in the city but outside the city for us to raise up farmers (of crops and men). We have vision of a bakery there and a workshop for the women in our Jubilee jewelry program. We have vision of chicken houses, pig pens, goats, cows, herbal medicinal gardens, and sample slum houses to teach our families within the slum what farming techniques are available to them. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We knew that if we went further outside of the city, we could get a huge piece of farm land for the money that this 1 acre was selling for. However, God was telling us to stay true to the vision that He had given us and what we value as a ministry : discipleship . Our intention is for this farm to be a place of discipleship and a place of teaching. Discipleship will always cost more than effectiveness. Pursuing discipleship will always look more impossible than the other options in front of you. Pursuing discipleship </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: underline;">will</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> keep you in a place of desperation for Jesus. Pursuing discipleship will cause you to make massive steps (LEAPS!) of belief in the direction of the promise God has given you. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We decided that this was the piece of land that we wanted. We waited for two weeks in prayer for the $200,000 (gulp!) that they were asking for to come in. It didn’t. The landowner called and asked if we had the money and we had to see “No, we don’t.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Three days later I was contacted by somebody who told me that they wanted to give us $200,000 to put towards land. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We quickly called the owner back and told him that we wanted the land and made a verbal agreement. Throughout the next two months we faced a series of challenges mainly revolving around this slow-moving culture, and we lost the land. They sold to another buyer. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Obviously, we were a little confused. In January, we began to look for land again. On the very first day we went out, we found a piece of land that was closer to all areas of our ministry, already had every single building (from sample slum houses to chicken coops to a bakery to a workshop to two houses that we can use for ministry) that we needed and desired on the land, and was also asking for a higher price for that land. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Again, God provided the amount that we needed, and within two weeks we had the land title. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">We would like to introduce all of you, to the DOORS farm. Our newest area of ministry, a place that we will be pouring development and prayer into; that it would be a harbor, a safe place, a place of discipleship, and a place where love abides. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">HALLELUJAH!</span></div>
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-3196099640470980042015-03-23T03:14:00.000-07:002015-03-23T03:14:39.190-07:00Who is protecting who? <div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">See, I thought that I used to be the one with the strength.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When you were on the streets and fights used to break out,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I thought you fled to me for safety. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When we would walk through Kampala holding hands, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I thought you were hiding your bare feet, dirty clothes, and chagrin under the protection of my white skin. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Wherever we would go and people gawk and stare and talk and talk, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The white woman and the street child both somehow exiled from ‘normal’ society, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I thought by teaching you to ignore them that you would see that God loves us equally. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I went through a crash-course on being a mom, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We got teenagers who had seen way more hate and fire and darkness than I had ever seen </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And God gave us sons who learned how to trust, and you learned how to dream. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Now you’ve grown! You’re big and you’re tall and you are strong, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And we look kind of awkward as a son and a mom, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And you walk me home at nights, my sons and my shield,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I realize that the protected one has always been me.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The shield that you are, you always have been,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Standing next to me and declaring I’m yours,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Protecting me from street fights and misguided words, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As I walk down the crowded roads that I barely know, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You held my hand and showed me your home, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And as the people talked, you hid their words from me, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Not wanting me to believe that I was anything but a blessing to you and this city. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You taught me how to light that dang charcoal stove, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And to cook and to wash and to mop and to speak, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And that sitting on the front porch talking together every night, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Was so much more fun than I could ever have watching t.v., </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You gave and I gave and we gave some more, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And in the purest of loves we now can both see,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That we protected each other from lives of normalcy. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">God has given me beautiful sons. We’ve walked through many, many challenges and joys together. We may not look like a mom and a son, especially as our age gap looks like it is quickly closing. We have pushed each other to breaking points, we have refined each other through fire, and we have spent an uncountable amount of nights rolling with laughter. I say it’s been a crash course, because in three and a half years I have “gotten children” ( and not in a normal way, mind you), poured into them with the beautiful community that God has continuously placed around us, and now as the first four of them have reached eighteen, they have left the nest ! They are now in the Joshua Home, a home teaching them independence, leadership, and discipleship. They are thriving. They are becoming men that I am simply proud to know. Men that will never settle for anything less than the dreams God has put in their hearts, and men who have encouraged me to do the same. </span></div>
Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-49619851499807440632015-03-22T02:16:00.002-07:002015-03-22T02:16:25.116-07:00You Boy, <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You Boy, </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Not many men can face rejection and the abuse that you faced and learn to love again. Not many again can be threatened by their father that “if you ever come back to this home, I will break both of your legs,” and still submerge themselves into a family. Not many men can make friends again after being beaten, lied to, stolen from, and abused by their peers. Not many men can leave the drugs of their choosing that have become their best friends, because in the end they are the only ones they can depend on to take them to a safe place. Three days you shook. Three days you faced the pain of withdrawal. Three days you conquered. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It is my joy to watch you come alive. It is my honor to see you in your purest form. It is my delight to see your eyes dance with light. It is my pleasure to watch you begin to recognize the goodness that lives within you. It makes my Spirit sing when the boy comes out of you who is pure, sweet, childlike, trusting, and joyful; and you look at yourself and question “who is this boy?” There is no shame in the man you are becoming. You are learning that there is no shame in being loved. There is no shame in loving somebody. It makes my heart cry “hallelujah!” when you continuously talk about what you’ve seen in the “Jesus film” and how you ask to watch it literally every day. I’ve loved watching your swollen belly, destroyed with malnutrition and worms, shrink down to a size of a starving child, and then fill out, full of good things. I’ve seen your strength, as your muscles wake up from years of drunken stupor and incapacitating highs. You can swing, and play football, and run, and do handstands, and flip, and jump.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">These moments right now are fleeting, but growing in frequency. They help me be patient when you lie to me. They help me love when you look at me with misplaced bitterness. They help me forgive when you treat me as if I have done the most unforgivable thing to you. They help me fight for you when you want to fight with your brothers. They help me see you at times when there is no light to be seen. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You are strong. You have conquered. You are beautiful. You are brave. You are loved. </span></span>Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-58504365399330954032015-03-22T01:49:00.002-07:002015-03-22T01:49:57.807-07:00To Be Planted... <h1 style="background-color: #eeeeee; color: rgb(96, 96, 96) !important; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 40px; letter-spacing: -1px; line-height: 50px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
To Be Planted....</h1>
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<span style="font-size: 14px;">Our desire this year is to be planted. As a ministry, God has given us a deep desire to focus on what we are doing and to ensure that we are walking in every place with excellence. Our DOORS home throughout the past three years has been developed immeasurably more than we could have ever imagined. We believe that to enter into this next stage of development, that God desires for us to be planted. We are looking to buy two houses in separate locations within our current community. Our vision over our homes is to have no more than six to seven children within each home, with uncles and aunts in each location that are not simply facilitating a children’s home but fostering a family that abides in the Kingdom. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14px;">To purchase these two properties will approximately cost $80,000. An investment that will allow us to continue to build upon the values which God has instilled in us thus far:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14px;"><strong>Intentionality.</strong> Our intention within our homes is to create disciples. Our intention is that whether a child is with us for three days, four months, or two years; that they leave having been embraced by the love of Christ and knowing more of Jesus’ heart for them. Our intentions are for our staff members to lay down their lives to follow Jesus into a calling, and not just find a good job. Our intention is that no matter what your age or role within our ministry is, each day living life together is a day of intentionally seeking the Kingdom of God and desiring that to be revealed within your own life and the way that you love others around you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14px;"><strong>Community. </strong>We believe in the power of community. It would be easier and cheaper to find a big plot of land outside of the city and build enough homes to house hundreds of children. We believe that the Lord is asking us to put a higher value on community. We not only desire to reintegrate street children into a society that they have been rejected from, but to create leaders and servants within that society. If our heart is to create world changers, we have to begin with the current community that we abide in. We believe that the interactions and relationships that our children have with our neighbor who has become our DOORS grandma, our friend that runs the local supermarket, and their friends all throughout our community are powerful. We believe that community provides accountability. We believe that our children should have a church family, and frankly, we love our local church. We believe in teaching our children how to be loved and how to be love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14px;"><strong>Individuality.</strong> We don’t believe in pushing people through a system. The children within our ministry have vastly different talents, struggles, gifts, desires, histories, and passions. We believe that if we are proclaiming that our focus is on discipleship, that it begins with the individual. We seek to find how we can best reach every child on their level; How can we best feed each child’s passions and talents? how can we best discipline this child? how does this child best hear the gospel? and how can we best empower this child to take every way that our Creative Maker has molded him, and lay it down before the feet of Jesus for His glory? We want to be fully invested in each of our children. That is why believe in keeping our numbers small and empowering a group of devoted staff members and local volunteers to strive to develop a family within each of our homes; a family where each child can be fully loved, fully known, and fully invested in. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14px;"><strong>Expression. </strong>We believe that every day we should be seeking to let LOVE speak it’s language. We believe in teaching our children to express their love to God through their praise, and we gather for times of worship and praise each week as a ministry. We believe in teaching our children the power of the Living Word, and how it is active and working inside of them. We believe in expressing our love to Jesus through community outreach projects and simply loving the people that God puts right in front of us. We believe in teaching our children that “There is no greater love than he who lay down his life for his friend.” We desire to be an expression of God’s love to all who encounter us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14px;"><strong>Impact. </strong>We believe that we are impactful. We believe that no moment in life is lost, but every moment can be grown from. We believe that we are a walking, living, breathing testimony of God’s grace, strength, and power. We believe that we should not be hidden under a bushel, but we desire to let the love and light that is bursting out of us shine. We believe that we are raising up the next generation of Godly leaders. We believe that we are raising up disciples who will lay down their lives for Jesus out of obedience, because they have first been loved by our Almighty Maker. We believe in teaching our children to be impactful ; that they have a voice, they have a story, they have passions, and they have vision that can change the world - and it simply starts by abiding in God’s love. </span></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: 14px;">We believe Hebrews 10:39. That “<strong>We are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.”</strong> We believe in the power and might and love of Christ that overcomes all, that saves all.<br /><br /><strong>Will you believe with us?</strong></span></em></div>
Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-49136253490149895702015-02-02T02:44:00.000-08:002015-02-02T02:44:06.625-08:00"I can't go back"<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After one week at home, he told me that he could <i>never </i><b><i>leave. </i></b><i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“Aunt Mallory, I’m going to finish school. I don’t care if I don’t know the alphabet right now. I’m going to finish school, and even university. Then I’m going to get work. I’m going to be a pilot. I’m never going back to Kisenye (the slum where he lived as a street child). Never. I knew it would be hard to come to a home. I knew it would hurt me and make me sick to leave my drugs, but I am a bad boy when I am in Kisenye. Nobody wants a bad boy. I knew if I ever got a chance to be in a home that I could never leave because if I go back to Kisenye then I’ll be a bad boy again and I may never get another chance. I can’t go back. I’ll never go back.” </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A year and a half ago, he made me promise that if I ever brought him into our home, that I would be the one to come and pick him up from the streets. Last Saturday, I ventured down to Kisenye looking for him. He was a high risk child. Still doing drugs, still chasing people with razor blades, and still creating havoc. God was <i>still s</i>aying<i> “Bring my child home.” </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I knew that if I stood in one place long enough he would find me, because he always did. I walked into the middle of the slum and the crowd of street kids started to gather around me, and I politely talked to them, while I kept my eyes out for the him. He came up to the outskirts of the crowd, and through the shouting, grabbing, and playing of the twenty or so children around me, I looked at him and said “Are you ready?” He nodded. We turned around and walked away. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Once we’d walked away from the group, he quietly asked me, “Are we going home?” And I nodded and said yes. Again and again he asked me as we walked to the market, and it wasn’t until I pulled out my money and bought him that first pair of shoes that he looked at me with tears in his eyes and a smile bigger than anybody has ever seen and he agreed, “I’m going home!!!” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He had lived on the streets for at least three years. Passing through the crowded market his friends working the stalls called out to him </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Don’t let the drugs bring you back here!” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“If she takes you home, you stick!” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“We don’t want to see you again!” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I was astonished at the amount of people that came up to me with smiles, tears, or shock; and they shook my hand. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Thank you for taking him. Thank you.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He smiled at me and said, “ I have many friends.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Frankly, I was more worried about the boys that were already in the home as he came home, than I was about him. Unfortunately, many of them had been his victims. However, when we pulled the car into the house, he was greeted with shouts, cheers, jumping up and down, as they chanted his name. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I’m pretty sure that the same sound was roaring from heaven. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He made it through the withdrawal. I’d never seen him sober. He amazes me every day. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He is home. </span></div>
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-57834824777973269212015-01-12T11:08:00.004-08:002015-01-12T11:08:42.224-08:00Ears and Brains <div style="color: #141923; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; min-height: 16px;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">(Late in posting....but still good) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last night, I body slammed a child.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ears wasn’t the one with the knife, but he is much bigger than Brains. So Brains’ attempts to slash and stab were now being overwhelmed by Ears’ attack. What had started as Ears’ self-defense was now a full blown attack on Brains. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was one of the moments that you react before your brain has really caught up to what’s happening…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">One child body slammed and locked in a head lock, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A knife in one hand and that arm fending off Brains as he tried to attack, Ears head-locked in the other arm trying with all of his might to break free of my hold. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">About ten visitors had just walked in for our weekly Saturday night worship night, wanting to help but not really sure what is really going on. A big brother who runs in and grabs Brains, another big brother who steps in and grabs Ears, and an uncle who takes the knife from my shaking hand. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Two big brothers, Ears, Brains, and myself walk into a classroom as Ears and Brains are still screaming at each other. We all sit down and I watch as the Big Brothers just totally handle it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">They let them tell their stories. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“He wouldn’t share his food with me, so I attacked him.” - Brains’ simple answer, no regret on his face. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ears is sobbing. Both are relatively new to our family. Brains came in about two months ago, and Ears had only been with us for one week. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Big brothers talk it out with Ears and Brains (whom both are now crying), they ask them to apologize, they give Brains a punishment, they pray over them, and send Brains out to go and join worship….I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to. I was frantically trying to hide my tears as I was having vivid flashbacks to how many meetings I’ve had with these Big Brothers where they were the ones getting talked to, and in simple awe of the men that they are.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And all this is happening with about 30 people piled in our living room worshipping. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ears begins to walk out, and I grabbed his hand and asked if he was okay. He collapses in my lap, weeping. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">One week since being in our home…one week of food, clothes, a bed, a family… </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I just held him because I don’t know if anybody had ever held him before while he cried. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The rest of the night was perfectly normal. Ears is laughing, playing, worshipping, and quite happy. The next morning, Ears is gone. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Another argument with Brains, and he flees. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Brains is not an evil child. He is broken just like the rest of us. Brains has a story. A story that he hasn’t shared. A story that has been lied about, to the point where we as a staff, aren’t even sure what his real name is. Ears knew Brains’ story. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ears had heard what had happened to Brains a few months back, but didn’t know the name of the street child that he was telling stories about. We saw the recognition in Brains’ face as he knew - that we knew - that Ears was talking about Brains, even if Ears didn’t know it was Brains he was talking about. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Brains was threatened, and a child that hasn’t had any problem making friends, quickly made an enemy. Ears had a story that Brains didn’t want told. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ears’ only question coming home with us was “Will the other boys beat me?” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So many questions have torn threw my brain in the past 24 hours - of punishment, of forgiveness, of second chances, of God’s will, of bringing darkness into the light - as we struggle with the feeling that we failed a child and how to respond to Brains.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Unfortunately, I have seen kids run away. I have seen them expelled. I have seen drug addictions grab their hands and drag them from home and back to the streets. I’ve never seen a child run away because he was bullied. I’ve never seen a child flee from our home because he didn’t feel safe. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The nitty-gritty doesn’t get written about often enough. I was going to wait until I had a pretty ending to this story to write about it. But that’s not really depicting life correctly. Life is messy. Life comes at us with hurt and pain. So I’m not going to bring you a pretty ending, at least not now, just ask you guys to pray for both Brains and Ears. As well as our staff, that we would act justly and love with mercy and walk humbly and that questions never stop our praise. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">****** I did wait until I had a pretty ending to this story to post it. Tonight I was sitting on our front porch and I heard a faint whisper of "Aunt Mallory?" coming from our bushes. Ears came back, repentant of leaving, asking for a second chance, and was welcomed back with many hugs, cheers, and laughs. #Redeemer .</span></div>
Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-26816460104708532162015-01-12T10:57:00.001-08:002015-01-12T10:57:06.655-08:00NEWS<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I have so much to say, yet I have no words. There are no words that can adequately describe what has happened in the past few months. Change and movement we have been praying for for the past three years has begun.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">However, I haven’t done a good job in using my words to keep people informed. Soo here we go….</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The DOORS home has moved , however not everybody has moved with it. Our caretakers (2 uncles, 2 aunts) and our nine youngest boys have a new home on top of a hill that overlooks all of Ggaba. It’s really not pretty at all….. kidding. It came with three HUGE bedrooms for the boys, a full garden, a blooming jackfruit tree, perfect living quarters for uncles and aunts, a playground!, a landlord who happens to be the local governing authority and now calls us his sons and daughters (favooooooor), and more peace than you can ever imagine. In many ways, it is our Canaan. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The only problem is our fence has some holes in it, and our dogs can escape out of the compound. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">But Roofus is adjusting well to the transition.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We added two new faces this past week - and we are looking on adding definitely one more before school starts. It always amazes me how Jesus speaks.He is Sovereign. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Oh yeah - we have new beds. THANK YOU GUYS!!!!!!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The one more is a boy that we have been working with on the streets for three years. He has a very bad drug addiction, but in spite of that, we have decided that God is leading us to bring him on home and that he needs a change of environment to have a change of lifestyle. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We have hired a new house mom for the DOORS home - who is an absolute rock star. She is everything we ever prayed for and more. As well as, our two uncles are men who are after God’s own heart - and we see that leadership reflected in our boys. The first night we moved into our new home, our now oldest boy in the home stayed awake until midnight cleaning the kitchen, and then woke up at 6 am to finish, because “We couldn’t cook our first meals in a dirty kitchen.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">One half of the FORMER doors home is transitioning into DOORS mission school. We are expanding our homeschool classroom into a school. All of our DOORS boys will be schooling from this school, as well as a few kids from the community who also need a rehabilitative education. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Our former bedrooms are now classrooms. We have hired new teachers, a new headmistress, and are putting beautiful systems in place that have been lacking in our homeschool classroom. </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The other half of the former DOORS home, is now the JOSHUA home. We believe that a word that is specifically spoken over our oldest boys is that they will be the leaders within DOORS ministries one day - and we have lots of praise for that! The Joshua home is a home that is teaching independence, leadership, and more opportunities for service. This was CLEARLY exemplified last week, as we had a team from TEAMeffort missions serving with us, and our Joshua boys led their time of service on the streets. </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As they have all reached the legal age of 18, and nothing can be given to them and they aren’t allowed to live in a children’s home…..our four oldest boys now becoming our “Joshua’s.” The Joshua Home works off of a point system where the young men serve as ministry interns and receive points each week by completing ministry related tasks that help build their budget for the home. The more points they earn, the more their weekly budget can increase. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGswA0M6ND71UxvU_zYt8t1L-00xYFnlGullWmU96eoRyZ7hRq9GLrzhiwhIfAUh1Ts8pqxRccvt7PrzPJpYeQI9CYyYxcoEI9Ed9EgkNXAs2lGHbuVu8NfHqqyBeA8xuyjxX47tIY1iI/s1600/IMG_1658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGswA0M6ND71UxvU_zYt8t1L-00xYFnlGullWmU96eoRyZ7hRq9GLrzhiwhIfAUh1Ts8pqxRccvt7PrzPJpYeQI9CYyYxcoEI9Ed9EgkNXAs2lGHbuVu8NfHqqyBeA8xuyjxX47tIY1iI/s1600/IMG_1658.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The idea is to create independence by teaching the boys how to work for what they need in life, fight as sense of entitlement that often grows in children’s homes as kids go from having nothing to having everything given to them, give the boys much experience in ministry and job training as we can, and empower leaders. The Joshua home is facilitated by two younger men who have jobs and are living out the Christian life in a way that is an example to the young men within the home. The boys are no longer being babysat, but still have strong discipleship and leadership over their lives.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9heoULgUSREpOtuzrXf7Gvcsf8D6enA5H78dQB1liD6UE3VWtDLusW6T9wBGgNZUZTwhksS5ZDYvNbJDVhIs4DungNSjGQXrN1BGpIiOpldjOEIYvuMe2a4HvBWbgJYd1qx7ClTrnLI/s1600/IMG_2753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9heoULgUSREpOtuzrXf7Gvcsf8D6enA5H78dQB1liD6UE3VWtDLusW6T9wBGgNZUZTwhksS5ZDYvNbJDVhIs4DungNSjGQXrN1BGpIiOpldjOEIYvuMe2a4HvBWbgJYd1qx7ClTrnLI/s1600/IMG_2753.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">These pictures are from three years ago.... it's crazy how fast they grow up. The mom-in-me wants to be sad, but my heart is swamped with so much love and I am so proud of them that I really don't have any room for anything else. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I personally haven’t felt as excited through this transition as I thought I would. When you see everything you have been dreaming about coming to fruition you think there would be some words to go with that? My only words have been sweet words to Jesus. Not praise because He has been faithful to His promise, but PRAISE because He has taught me that He is faithful whether we see fruit in His promises or we are still waiting. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I just desire every ounce of my love for Him to be FOR Him, and not in what He says He is going to do for me. Promises come and reach completion and go. His character is rich. It is an abundant place for us to fall. It is deep. It is wild. It is steadfast.</span><br />
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-73227558692149851572014-12-30T23:33:00.000-08:002014-12-30T23:33:49.709-08:00The fault in loving It <div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>It</i> romanced me. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It </i>made me heart sing when days looked dreary. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It</i> told me that this season would come to an end.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It</i> brought my joy and strength when my heart was weary. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It</i> became my hope, and my friend. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It </i>became an escape when things got tough. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It</i> held me on nights when I wanted to give up. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It</i> was so excited. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It</i> loved to dream with me. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It</i> wasn’t mine to hold just yet.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But<i> It</i> brought me a glittery, itching feeling of what’s ahead. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I couldn’t wait for the day until we really met. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It </i>finally came. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I took <i>It’s</i> hand. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I sang, I jumped, I screamed, I danced, and</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There were a few days when I was off in la-la land. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Then we disagreed, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It</i> took a lot of my time and effort, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I found out that <i>It </i>was hard to please.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Those nights of the past when I used to lay in my bed,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Alone or scared or tired of pressing on, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Wandering when I would meet<i> It</i>,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Dreaming with joy of our time together, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Knowing that we would be singing a brand new, beautiful song, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Now seemed so far off, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As I lay there alone, scared and tired of pressing on,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Is this really <i>IT</i>?! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It </i>couldn’t comfort me any longer,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Because I was giving <i>It</i> all that I had, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And It took a lot of work, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Gone were the nights of dreaming and romanticizing. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It</i> lost it’s glitter, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It </i>lost it’s shine, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I didn’t know if I wanted <i>It</i> any longer to be mine? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I had given <i>It </i>all that I had, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I had allowed<i> It </i>to comfort me, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It </i>had been my wild adventure, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It</i> had been a whisper of a promise that became a fantasy, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And now<i> It</i> was leaving, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>It </i>had now come to fruition. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">All those days and night that my head was lost in romance, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">All of those hopes and dreams and visions of how wonderful <i>It </i>would be…</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And then<i> It </i>was gone, It had to come and to go, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I thought to myself, was that <i>IT?</i> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I realized that my love for <i>It</i> had taken me from a very important “We”. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Yet He called me back to His side and pulled me in close, </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>“It </i>can be better, when you’re fully in love with Me.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When you’re watching God’s promises unfold before your eyes, you are quick to realize the fault of what happens when you love a promise and not the Savior. What has been a labour of belief as you wait for the promise to come to fruition, becomes a labour of love, obedience, selfless sacrifice and hard work when you are living in that promise. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The promise is not wild. The promise is not romantic. The promise will not fulfill you. The promises will not be as great as you think it will be. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Jesus is wild. Daddy God is pouring love out on us. The Holy Spirit fills us. God is ever greater than we can ever imagine Him to be. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Promises are spoken for the future. We are living in promises today. We all have promises that have been fulfilled already. Through it all, we have an ever-present God. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Let’s give HIM all of our love today.</span></div>
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-37768244639681974692014-11-16T23:29:00.000-08:002014-11-16T23:29:05.208-08:00I hated it <div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I was twenty-two when we first brought them home. I hated it. I didn’t like little hands knocking on my window at 5 am, and I certainly didn’t like loud voices waking me up arguing in the middle of the night. I didn’t like all the time that I felt obligated to spend with them, and I really detested all the time I spent giving out punishments. I didn’t like the constant fear gripping me that one was going to run away and we were going to fail. I hated even more thinking about how much it would hurt me if they left, because I loved them. I didn’t like how tormented I was replaying conversations with critics and voices of scorn in my head. I didn’t like the pressure I felt to perform well. I hated how stuck I felt. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The thing I hated the most was every time I looked at God, He was smiling! Smiling as I suffered, smiling as I lay awake at night letting stress toss my mind to and fro, smiling as I sat in three hour long disciplinary meetings with kids trying to make them understand that life in our home, even when they have a punishment, is better than life on the streets. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">See, He was smiling as he began bestowing blessings on us. He was cheering us on as we learned how to lay down our lives for our friends. He rejoiced every time my face hit the floor, weeping in fervent prayer - as I built a foundation of trust. He was thankful for every ‘yes’ we had given Him. He delighted in my loneliness as He and I learned how to be friends. He laughed as any parent would watching their small child try to pick up something that is entirely too heavy for their chunky, tiny, toddler arms; and His heart leapt for joy when He heard me say “Daddy, come help me.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I’ve learned to delight in the months of having a foggy head. I’ve learned to rejoice when my questions tally up higher than my reasons to praise. I’ve learned to laugh when I realize that I’m trying to move something on my own strength. I’ve learned to be thankful for countless seasons of suffering, because there’s always an unidentifiable point that you begin to count those seasons, not of suffering, but of abundant growth. And I smile, because God has taught me to see every single one of those children for what they are - a blessing to me - worth waiting on, worth laboring for, and really worth getting rid of me. </span></div>
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-363747198096891122014-11-15T05:23:00.004-08:002014-11-15T05:23:55.684-08:00He and They <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiisUv5hybmXllqV7hXuzVvqaZXL24Xy9HDMn4tYu7qLuSjCyGvBIXeHNKrHAALzXgo00A3JWWipvidytmjoG7Cb2BThyfPSPfjcLY-TjM8pysZFCfSf-SK0E5hplXYqtrP_b1EltE2w3A/s1600/DSC_4647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiisUv5hybmXllqV7hXuzVvqaZXL24Xy9HDMn4tYu7qLuSjCyGvBIXeHNKrHAALzXgo00A3JWWipvidytmjoG7Cb2BThyfPSPfjcLY-TjM8pysZFCfSf-SK0E5hplXYqtrP_b1EltE2w3A/s1600/DSC_4647.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></a>He doesn't let the smaller one leave for school until he has fixed his collar, quizzed him on his homework, and given him a gentle shove out the door. He is a man of excellence.<br />
He doesn't let that aunt that he loves out of his sight, as they trek their three mile morning run. He is a protector. He holds the one that is enduring a punishment and tells him "Even me, I've had so many punishments before. Punishments don't mean that we don't love you." He is a peacemaker. He leads our family in worship every Saturday night. He is a strong tower. He doesn't like serving at the street programs with the street kids, but God is telling him to go, and so he goes. He is faithful. He is always a "yes" when it comes to helping others, no matter what it costs him. He is a servant.<br />
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There are many beautiful "he's" that make up this home of "they."<br />
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They are inexplainable. They don't care that seven year olds aren't supposed to play with eighteen year olds, they play. They share clothes, laughs, dreams, and living quarters. They school together, go to church together, work together, serve together, and are silly together. They don't have a system of who owes who what. They give and they take. They love and they are loved. They define fellowship. They define family. They define community.<br />
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They are world changers. They are dreamers. They are shedding glory all over this home every day as they simply do life together with an excellence that God himself delights in.<br />
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They have taught me how to love, and for that, I am eternally grateful.<br />
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<br />Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-4219723790521540422014-10-30T02:13:00.000-07:002014-10-30T02:13:03.700-07:00Doors Christmas Wish List <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-84614536584406327182014-09-26T01:48:00.000-07:002014-09-26T01:48:44.747-07:00Excuses<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I was looking for a way to get this kid out of our house. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There are little moments like on the first night when his stomach is full and he realizes he gets to sleep in a bed, that he runs up to me and almost knocks me down. He wrapped his arms around me and began to jump up down, overwhelmed, saying “Thank you, Aunt! Thank you, Aunt! Thank you, Aunt!” Despite the huge smile on his face, his eyes were filled with tears. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Those are the moments that everybody imagines when you bring a child home whose been sleeping on the sidewalk, waiting from the trash, and invisibly walking around the city being surpassed by thousands of people.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The truth of the matter is, those moments are far and few. It’s hard to see children shaking as addictions wane. It’s harder to love them as they quarrel and lie and chase other children around with sharp objects. It’s hard to break a lifestyle of shouting, fighting, and stealing. It’s hard to lose a mentality of “Nobody cares for me and the whole world is out to get me.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It’s hard not to blame that child for disturbing and disrupting your home that has been so unified and in tact for such a long time. It’s like having toddlers in the home, who know how to walk and talk but you have to watch their every move. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The first two weeks we brought him home, I kept thinking, “We can just make a recommendation to another organization to take him because these other organizations can help this boy better than we can right now.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Translation: Let’s make him somebody else’s problem and we can go back to our happy, quiet, peaceful life.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">God so gently reminded me, “I didn’t make him somebody else’s problem, I brought him here.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As a staff, He was calling us to fully fight for this kid. I had been looking for an excuse to get out of the fight. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Two weeks later, I’m still tired. He’s still shaking. I watch him fervently pray every night before he goes to sleep that God will protect him throughout the night, and I’m spending most of my nights being woken up and comforting a child who is wrecked by nightmares. I’m touched as the very boys he was quarreling with two weeks ago, open up their arms to him every night. He climbs into bed with these boys that are younger than he is and they hold him as he falls asleep. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Meekness now envelops his character. Being loved, envelops his heart. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There’s still a long way to go, but who doesn’t have a long way to go? The message has been made very loud and clear to me, <i>He’s worth fighting for.</i> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Really, who isn’t worth fighting for? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Excuses contaminate our belief. We can <b>always</b> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: underline;">always</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> <i>always</i> find a logical excuse (but we usually call them reasons) of getting out of doing God’s will. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ve learned a hard lesson the past few years (still learning), that any time I really want to get out of somewhere, that’s usually where God is calling me to hunker down and fight. God does not give a spirit of flee-dom, to where we’ve fled from problems, people, or places our whole lives and now our paths are covered by places that we’ve fled from and we’re scared to return to, due to unfinished business that we ran away from. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">He calls us to meet those people, places, and problems head on; armed with love, strengthened with joy, and resting in Him. To fight fully for the Kingdom, is to be loved fully by the King. </span></div>
Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-50197127722994814292014-08-11T08:17:00.000-07:002014-08-11T08:17:45.224-07:00How Was Your Trip?Imagine it- You hear the airplane pilot's calm voice over the speaker system declare that you are only 20 minutes from your final destination, a brief weather update, and current time. A few things might be going through your mind right about now… Will my family be on time to pick me up? Should I stop at the Starbucks in the airport or just wait until tomorrow? What do I want for dinner tonight?! The possibilities are endless… I'll be in a real bed tonight… <br />
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Truth is, you're actually too jet lagged and overwhelmed to make any sound decision, whether it be latte choice or food choice.<br />
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You have just arrived home from your _______ (insert time- days, months, years) in ____________ (insert country). <br />
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Many of you who read this blog and follow Doors Ministries have lived and worked with us. You also understand these above thoughts and emotions quite well. Let's be real, most people who have stepped through the front door of our house in Uganda have had to step out and get on a plane back to America. In fact, the largest population of missionaries are ex-missionaries (I know I know, you are never really out of the mission field, but for the sake of this conversation, I'm making a distinction.)<br />
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I came back to America on December 28th, 2013. I had been living and breathing life in Uganda for about 2 1/2 years, and at that moment I found myself landing back in America for an undetermined amount of time. If you would have asked me to imagine my past 2 1/2 years in Uganda, it wouldn't even come close to the reality of it all. Traveling their with Mallory and two other good friends, realizing after 3 months that God was stirring in our hearts to walk in the impossible task He was putting before us, being scared out of our minds, looking up return flights to America just in case we totally bombed, extending our plane tickets a year, starting the boys home, starting the school, starting the women's ministry, opening the nurses office…. In the path of all this we meet friends that we will be forever bonded with in soul, we almost fail in all areas of ministry multiple times, Mallory and I almost lose our friendship, we lose sight of Jesus as the forefront of our ministry and lives. It has all been glorious, and gloriously hard. But, as 22 year olds, fresh out of university, we had it coming. Those mistakes and trials do not stop the incredible growth of our boys and Doors volunteers, our faults do not hinder the growth of the school, and the women's ministry is literally bursting at the seams of the building. We experienced and understood why God truly does call the small to do the great and impossible things- It's easier for Him to take over.<br />
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So here I am, on this plane, about to land in Nashville, TN. Amazed by the grace, love, and power of God in every part of Doors Ministries, in every facet of my life, in every trial that we faced, in every mountain top and valley we ever walked through. <br />
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If you have lived overseas, you have your God story, your trials, your mistakes, your path, your lessons, your people. It has all been very real and now as you land in your familiar, now not-so-familiar home, you aren't sure how any thing, any place, any people, any circumstance could ever compare with the past _________ of your life in ________.<br />
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You're home for a few weeks stumbling through your every day, trying to figure out how Walmart works again, and why there are so many choices of EVERYTHING, you keep having to remind yourself to drive on the RIGHT side of the road, you have accidentally spoken in Luganda to a few of your black friends, and if you're anything like me you have spent some significant time weeping. <br />
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And then it happens. You run into that friend or family member in a store or at church and they commit the most unspeakable atrocity against you… they ask- "How was your trip?" You aren't sure what to do or say at this point… do you run out of the room crying, do you stand up on a chair and exclaim to everyone around how amazing and hard and deep the past ________ of your life has actually been, do you let this person have it and shove a Shane Claiborne book down their throat, or do you just say- "it was awesome" and walk away. <br />
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This is just one example of what I have seen "ex-missionaries" go bonkers about. We could go on and on about our opinions on mega churches, Starbucks, upper-middle class society, AMERICA, etc… I'm not judging you, seriously, the only reason I am able to write about this stuff is because I've been the worst of the worst. Your emotions and thought provoking questions about how to live life as a Christ follower are REAL and they should be asked. These are things that we should WRESTLE with once we have spent time with the poor and the hurting. That "trip" you went on should forever change YOU.<br />
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Did that person who asked how your trip was really commit a horrible crime against you? <br />
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NO.<br />
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Are your friends and family shallow when they can't fully comprehend the life you just lived?<br />
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NO.<br />
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Will community ever be the same as it was for you on the "mission field?"<br />
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Maybe not.<br />
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Are you being shallow, close minded, and high maintenance when you judge others?<br />
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YES.<br />
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I wasn't sure how to write on the Doors blog anymore. I wasn't sure how the stories of street kids or single moms could still be propelled from my American point of view. But I think I know now. I think that Satan doesn't give a flip that we lived in _________ for ________. I don't think he is too concerned with our experiences and the hard lessons learned. You know what he is afraid of? He is afraid that the light will get out in your current position in your current location. He is afraid that instead of being bitter and distraught over your relocation back home that you will dive deeper into God's plan over your life. The enemy wants judgement and bitterness and sympathy for yourself to overtake the joy, and passion, and forgiveness. <br />
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I can't forget what I've seen, what I've tasted and heard in Uganda. I'm not the same and I never will be. I don't compare America to Uganda anymore. It's not the same place, and the people here are different, with different experiences. The thing is, Jesus is the same.<br />
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<b> Jesus is the same. </b><br />
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He has the same power, the same love, and the same passion for His children to know and believe and experience Him. Don't waste another second on judgement or bitterness or comparison. <br />
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Each of us has an adventure before us today. Whether you are on a dirt road in Uganda or whether you are in front of a computer screen in America with a picture on your desk of that child who forever wrecked your life. Your adventure yesterday can't be the adventure of today. <br />
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The question still stands-<br />
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<b>How was your trip?</b> <br />
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Did your trip paralyze you or did your trip set your heart so on fire that with every new step the world burns with passion for Jesus and His Kingdom come? <br />
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-61637304442387494682014-08-07T01:10:00.004-07:002014-08-07T01:10:42.359-07:00Irene<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<i>For the 2014 school year Doors was very fortunate to find Irene Lwanga. Irene is a graduate of Africa Renewal University with a degree in Social Work and Counseling. Each week she combines her degree and gifts from the Lord to counseling and encourages our students, women’s ministry, and parents. As a young wife and mother she is able to relate, connect, and disciple all aspects of the schools clients. We have all been blessed by Irene’s passion to serve and commitment and care that she shows to all.</i></div>
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<i>When asked why she likes working for Doors, her contribution was a bit more than we expected.... </i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Why do you like working with Doors Ministries?</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> It is a ministry. Doors has given me a chance to serve the DOORS Community and God. All the work I do puts God first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Doors is a family. I look at it as a big family bringing us all together, pupils, teachers, and women. A family that cares for each and everybody. I entered into this big family where everyone is known by name from the youngest to the eldest. Everybody knows where the everybody lives. Teacher Angela knows where each child stays and every detail of their family. To me, I feel this is where I belong. I felt loved and cared for when I recently gave birth, DOORS visited me and made me a card with lovely messages. It encouraged and gave me joy that I belong somewhere.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> It is a transformation centre where people are transformed, so I want to be part of the group that is transforming society.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I love working at DOORS because children are supported in education, health and spiritual matters, which moves me to support them in psychological matters, career guidance, hygiene, adolescent counseling, help them make smart choices, spiritual counseling and others. Doors know that education alone cannot create good citizens but also counseling. That is why I like working with them, other schools in Uganda have not realized the need for counseling</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I like working at DOORS because it has challenged me spiritually. It has put me on fire again for Christ. The different prayer requests I receive from the women’s ministry have made me re-organize my prayer time and Bible study time I now pray more and study the Bible more, because I have to teach every Thursday and to counsel those with spiritual and psycho social issues.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I like working at Doors because my counseling services, with education and prayer will produce good performance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> My work at Doors is a fulfillment of what God has called me to do. I received a prophetic message from God calling me to be a counselor for the youths, married couples, and women. It took me 10 years to prepare for this. Soon I am going for a masters degree. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> DOORS pays me so am able to help my family somehow, thus I love working at Doors.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">What are you passionate about? </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">-Helping people make right decisions. I do this by creating a relationships with them. Through this I can know what they believe in and help them make right decisions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I am passionate about seeing people live a happy, peaceful life. I know that people struggle to get essentials in life, but there is a chance to struggle with a peaceful heart knowing that the situation there in will change for the better. I have practically decided to sponsor a child in Gulu for two years under ARMS sponsorship program.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I am passionate about letting people know we are powerless, everything is about Christ. There is nothing we can do without Him. Everything begins and ends with God.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I love comedy. I love to be happy and to be with happy people. I feel so bad when a group of people around me are sad, have tough faces, or do not want to smile or laugh. I feel comfortable when someone smiles at me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I want to be a caring friend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I am passionate about my marriage/family. I want my home to be the safest, peaceful place for everyone. I am unfriendly to anyone who disrespects this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I love cooking good food</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; letter-spacing: 0px;">Ø</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> I like adventuring</span></div>
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-67446163299954482512014-08-07T00:58:00.001-07:002014-08-07T00:58:36.330-07:00Sponsorship Qualms <div style="font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I’m having a battle with sponsorship. And I share all of this not desiring to start a war… </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The battle has been ongoing for awhile. I’ve been a sponsor. I’ve seen the beauty in having a name and face posted on your refrigerator that signifies where your monthly check is going to. It makes it personal. You see where your X amount of dollars each month is going to help feed, educate, clothe, and provide medical care a child who really needs it. You sow each month and you get to see the fruit being grown. None of that is my issue. I totally relate and agree with sponsors that sponsorship is affirming and has many beneficial points to it. We have reaped greatly from sponsorship as an organization. Sponsors have shared with me how they see and respond to God as they give, and the children share about how they see God in each stranger who they begin to consider as family that sponsors them. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">My battle just epitomized as I sit here working on Doors’ July newsletter. We’re changing things up a bit in our style and monthly communication. I’ve been valiantly attempting to write a short one paragraph blurb for many days now, about a child in our home who doesn’t have any of his sponsorships currently filled. I rewrote it too many times to count, because each time I wrote it, I sounded like I was trying to sell this child. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I finally sat back and I prayed, “God, I want Your words to be my words. I don’t think you want me to try and sell this child.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">My next thought quickly followed my prayer, ‘Selling children is human trafficking.’ I do not want to exploit (derive benefit from) any child. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Children make difficult products. If I were to write a blurb saying how this child is the most passionate and fearless child I’ve ever met, and that everything that he puts his hand to, he excels greatly….that would be accurate. However, every parent in the world knows that in between those sentences there should also be: “This child doesn’t sit still for more then four minutes, occasionally back-talks the people who care for him, always refuses to the dishes, and is more stubborn than a mule.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I’m thankful that sponsorship isn’t merely a call to buy a good and perfect product. It can not be a part of your paycheck that we merely need to sustain what we are doing and so we put cute faces on pamphlets to try and get your money. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Sponsorship is a call to come and build with us. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The truth is that all of the children in our home and in our school have issues. But let’s face it…who doesn’t? Our heart behind sponsorship is that we don’t have to advertise to any person how perfect are children are, or how desperately in need our children are. Our hope is that beyond a face, you will see a multi-faceted God who takes more care and ownership over that child than we ever could. A God who is sowing seeds in and all around that child, because His greatest desire is to love him or her. We serve a God of redemption, and I am blessed to look upon His redemption in my own life and in the many others around me, every day. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">We pray that our sponsors see that we are building alongside the greatest Maker. We pray that our sponsors’ hearts don’t break over a child who used to be hungry, homeless, or needy - but rejoice alongside of ours, and alongside the Almighty’s about His love for that child. We pray that a song of praise can’t help but burst out of all of us as we look upon the work of our Maker, and we eagerly long to join Him in the redemptive process. </span></div>
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-45371136465997171032014-07-28T04:53:00.003-07:002014-07-28T04:53:49.050-07:00His picket fence <div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">His picket fence? Has anybody ever wondered about the funny name for this blog?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It started with two soul sister best friends (Yes, there are actually two people who write on this blog. One of us just tends to write more nowadays than the other). We were about to graduate college and were dealing with the normal questions society throws at people of that age: </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“What do you want to do with your life?” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Do you have a job?” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Where are you going to live?” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Wait…you’re going to Africa? ….. Well, do you have a job lined up for when you get back? How are you ever going to get married? So are you just going to beg people for money and live off of that for the rest of your life?” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We had a desire not to settle. It was a desire not to go except for where our sweet Jesus was whispering, “<i>follow me</i>.” It was not a desire to bash the American dream of a perfect home, a white picket fence, two and a half kids, and a dog - because all of that is fine, if that is where Jesus is calling you. And it was not a desire to get rid of everything we own and move into a mud hut and never eat cheeseburgers again. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was a desire to build our homes in the Kingdom - to be inside His picket fence, His perfect plan, His heart desires, and to embrace that whole heartedly. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was a desire to be poor. The poor are desperate. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ve learned a lot from my poor friends. Lessons that I could write one thousand blogs about, but there’s one that is really burning in my mind right now. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ve learned that their desperation leads to life, and comfortability equals death. If they are not desperate to survive, they will not. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The poor are desperate. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I recently spent some time in the United States and had several conversations that went something like this:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“I love your bag!” - Mallory </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Thank you so much! I got it…..(the sinking realization on somebody’s face that I live in Africa cuts them off, and their excitement dwindles and a nonchalant, somber face ensues)…..on sale. I would have never spent that much money on it, but I really needed a new bag….” -Friend</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">…and then they would follow the fifteen new reasons why they needed a new bag. I had people apologizing to me about how much money they were spending on meals or clothes or activities. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My brothers and sisters….if only you knew… </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I make coffee every morning in a french press.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I work every day on a brand-spanking new laptop.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I spend too much time on Facebook. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have the utmost delight in living where I live. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I do not embrace poverty. I do not reject riches. I think it’s beautiful and from the Lord that many believers are seeking how it is right for them to live in a country that is so wealthy. However, I think we need to surrender our actions. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We can not be desperate to have riches, and we can not be desperate to be poor. We can not make a ‘correct’ pattern for life and expect that to shape our hearts and minds. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We have to be desperate for Jesus. A desperation for Jesus will keep us seeking our daily bread. Daily bread that feeds our souls and ‘makes our cup runneth over’. A desperation that forces us to embody humility, and humility is irresistible to the Holy Spirit. Desperation beckons the Holy Spirit into our hearts and then our minds, our actions, and our lives will reflect a desperation for Jesus. Our actions will be molded out of an overflow of our hearts.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A desperation for Jesus may have me living in a home with a bunch of former hood-rats that bring me more joy than a world of accessibility ever could. A desperation for Jesus may have you living in a house much bigger than you could have ever imagined with a job that pays ten times more than what you ever needed. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It should look different on each person, or else we would all be doing the exact same thing. It’s our hearts behind these actions that should look the same. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Desperate. Poor in worldly dreams, worldly emotions, and worldly sacrifices. Poor because there is nothing on this earth that we truly have taken hold of, apart from Jesus. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Being poor is a posture of the heart that is completely dependent and yielded to Jesus. That’s who He welcomes inside His fence. Those are the children who are building in the Kingdom.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Blessed are the poor in Spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” - Matthew 5 </span></div>
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-27234408671726393012014-05-18T04:52:00.002-07:002014-05-18T04:52:52.617-07:00Belly Shirts <div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The taste of chocolate is still lingering in my mouth as I
write this. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">About fifteen minutes ago, I pulled into our “driveway,”
ignored most of the children calling my name, flung open my bedroom door, and
announced to my roommate that I was going to eat my chocolate bar and then get
on the floor and cry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I ate the chocolate and lay down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Those tears that had been swimming in my eyes for the past 2
hours waiting for the dam to open so they can explode down my face were
suddenly refusing to come. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I sat there for a bit. I rolled over. I put my arms across
my face. I stared at the ceiling. However, it wasn’t until I started dwelling
on every negative emotion I had in me and why I had it, until that soft Spirit
voice spoke to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Mallory, you can sit here and you can over-think about
every reason why you are upset, angry, mad, and frustrated until you reach the
point where you will cry…..or you can praise Me – it’s a much more peaceful
option.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Most of you who read this blog know me. If you don’t – I’m a
tall lady. (6 feet and ½ inch) My
parents had a particular challenge with me when I was growing up. Pretty much
every major season change, none of Mallory’s clothes fit her anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the beginning of summer you could find me putting on
dresses that now were as short as shirts, and if belly shirts had been a trend
for 8 year olds I would have been “in.” Fall brought jeans that brought
confused looks from people as they tried to decipher whether I was wearing long
pants or capris. Winter also came with mittens that only covered half of my
hand, and the fluffy, warm winter coat we had bought last year was the first to
hit the goodwill pile. Jean shorts that never would have passed the school
fingertip length for dress code always plagued my Springs, as the warm weather
called for us to lose some layers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From the time I can remember until that glorious year in
high school when I stopped growing, every season that I remember found me
putting 7/8 of my clothes in the Goodwill bag. That 1/8 that remained was
always bound to be something horrific that obviously was not socially
acceptable to wear anymore. Yet until I could replenish my closet (i.e. until
my parents helped me replenish my closet), I was stuck in horribly ugly, definitely
not matching, well-worn clothes, that were pushing the line to be put in the
Goodwill pile anyway but I couldn’t walk around naked and my mom made me keep
them to cover my butt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s hard to have a child that grows all the time. I could
mention the feet that were 5 sizes too big for the body or that awkward class
picture where you always knew where your spot was, but I think I will save
those for another blog. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today as I refused to cry in front of the kids in the car, I
had all kinds of funny thoughts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’m tired of living this way!!!!!!!” was the dominant one
as I stormed out of the ATM empty-handed for the third day in a row. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Living which way? By faith?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gut check. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That apparently didn’t do the trick, because I still
marinated in the rage, frustration, and doubt all the way home. It wasn’t until
I was staring at a really ugly ceiling, willing my tear ducts to produce
something to run down my face, probably making faces similar to that of
somebody who is constipated, that I relented to this mighty call to Praise Him.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mr. Fear peaced out real quick. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Followed by Mr. Rage and Mr. Worry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Doors Ministries. I don’t have words. I am honored to be a
part of it. I love being surrounded by this heavy weight of God’s glory every
day. But we are a growing baby. Each
season finds us scantily clothed, looking to our Daddy for new provision.
Sometimes it’s hard to continuously be growing, because we have to be
continuously shopping for “new clothes.” For me, I have to fight to keep my
praise during all this growth. As a ministry, we have to choose to praise,
rather than worry, doubt, or live in fear. If I had succumbed to those negative
emotions, I would still be in a pit of tears, snot, and chocolate slobber right
now, instead of humbly asking for your help. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Doors has many needs right now – staring us blatantly in the
face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. We are in need of classroom sponsors for our school. Our
classroom sponsorships keep kids in a Godly classroom environment, while also
providing them with 2 meals a day, and helping pay our teacher’s salaries. Our
school is the main place where we struggle financially each month – it’s hard
to keep food in front of the ninety children and employ our ten teachers
without the help of classroom sponsorships. If you would like more information
or have any questions, <a href="mailto:doorssponsorship@gmail.com">doorssponsorship@gmail.com</a>
is the place for you to go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. Because we lack classroom sponsorships, we are currently
doing a fundraiser to help meet the gaps of need for the school. We are trying
to raise $4500 to cover the first month of school expenses. There’s many
different ways and places you can contribute to through the link below.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.gofundme.com/8wuark <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. Five of the boys in our home are lacking sponsors. This
is a big number for us, because it’s almost half of our kids! We’ve been so
thankful and blessed by our current sponsors and donations that keep our home
running. <a href="mailto:doorssponsorship@gmail.com">doorssponsorship@gmail.com</a>
is where you should inquire if you would like more information on building a
relationship with a former street child and helping them grow in the knowledge
and wisdom of what a life walking with Christ is! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We need givers. We need fighters. We need praise warriors. We
don’t need pity. There may be a very tiny amount in our bank account right now –
but there’s a big praise in our hearts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We live by faith. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pity lives by chocolate bars and tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He is more than words can ever say – let’s REJOICE today! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-37237286789165641852014-04-10T08:50:00.002-07:002014-04-10T08:53:25.953-07:00What about this one? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pkwmqcoAPHhRVv2eBxz6i2jhJ_hF37VHLf7X67V8xQChVuHCI6rGhMZjYbYwktRd-3hGU3fPUawGjmZ9Cw5Kjx_8aYHcyM9r0VRhVRzkGrFwIVzS0DkR-kkz50nuWpnw1ZVvVEkwtCI/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pkwmqcoAPHhRVv2eBxz6i2jhJ_hF37VHLf7X67V8xQChVuHCI6rGhMZjYbYwktRd-3hGU3fPUawGjmZ9Cw5Kjx_8aYHcyM9r0VRhVRzkGrFwIVzS0DkR-kkz50nuWpnw1ZVvVEkwtCI/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" height="400" width="300" /></span></a></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-34"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">See that green gate straight ahead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s ours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Yeah, the one that when you look closely, it kind of looks like a murder scene, with
the smeared red paint all over it. For once - it wasn’t the children painting on
something they shouldn’t – it was the landlord! And I’m not really sure what he
was planning for that one, but I’m hoping the reason we have doodles on our
gate is simply because the paint ran out). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Behind that gate is a large compound, twenty beds, piles of
stinky shoes, a charcoal stove that almost always has a pot of beans boiling on
it, and 13 boys who proudly put on Doors t-shirts every day as they go to
school, eat 3 meals a day, play football, dance their hearts out, worship
endlessly, and sleep each night under a roof. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I’d like you to direct your eyes to that big, rusty, red
box on the right side of the picture. In Uganda, we call this a container.
Containers usually make a home in Uganda after they’ve brought some sort of
imported goods or shipments of donations. This one lives at the end of our
driveway. This particular container is empty, but here you can find people
living in containers, having workshops in containers, or even making
restaurants out of these containers (they get creative!). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This rusty red container usually serves no great purpose.
But in the past few months, it has become significant in my eyes. It started
when I was on my way home one night and it was around 11pm. Most of Ggaba was
already asleep. As the car’s lights hit the container, I saw the feet
underneath the container. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Three pairs of dirty, beat up, cut, calloused, and fat feet.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Street kids. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They’re feet are easy to distinguish them by – not many
people walk the amount that these kids do, in the places they do, without
shoes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The three children had wedged themselves between the container
and the ground and were fast asleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I froze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mallory wants to pick them up, take them to that gate that’s
10 yards away, clean em up, feed them, and let them sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. And I had to drive by
reluctantly. I began asking around, very discreetly too. I wasn’t ready to find
every boy in Ggaba dressed up like a street kid sleeping outside of our gate
the next night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They are young. The oldest one is 8. They’ve never been to
the city, which is good, because that means they are sober. And it’s now been a
month or two since I’ve started asking my questions, trying to get the truth of
their stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I watch the man who sells scrap at the end of our street,
who occasionally lets them sleep among the piles of scrap metal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hear from the bar tender at the corner a daily update of
where they slept the night before, as she lets them come in in the morning and
pick up the bottles to go and sell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There’s a woman who sells vegetables outside of our house.
She’s at work at 7am with her baby, leaving every night at 11pm. She struggles.
Today I watched her split what little food she and her son had, with Joab, one
of the boys. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m watching them, and they are all looking at me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I do nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because behind that gate- there are no empty stomachs, and
people are busting out of our home. There is no empty bed, and there are
thirteen boys who used to sleep on the sidewalks of Kampala in rice sacks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s kind of ironic. Nobody has told them that the boys that
pass them and bring them food everyday used to be in their situation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because they’ve seen me do nothing, and they don’t want to
get their hopes up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve searched my mind. I’ve prayed. But I’m not sure that
I’m ready to turn our living room into another bedroom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I feel like I should be able to do something, and as I watch
my neighbors give what little they have to the boys, I feel them all looking at
me. “Don’t you have a home that helps these children?” It’s the unspoken
question. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t know what to do. And I think that’s ok. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-34"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is when people start saying, “You can’t help every
child” as they try to comfort me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I'm a big believer that ministry is simply loving the people that God puts right in front of you. </span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-34"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Matt-25-34" id="en-NIV-24043">“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-24043V" title="See cross-reference V">V</a>)"></span> prepared for you since the creation of the world.<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-24043W" title="See cross-reference W">W</a>)"></span></span> <span class="text Matt-25-35" id="en-NIV-24044"><span class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;"> </span>For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,</span><span class="text Matt-25-36" id="en-NIV-24045"><span class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;"> </span>I needed clothes and you clothed me,<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-24045Y" title="See cross-reference Y">Y</a>)"></span> I was sick and you looked after me,<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-24045Z" title="See cross-reference Z">Z</a>)"></span> I was in prison and yo</span>u came to visit me.’</span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Matt-25-37" id="en-NIV-24046"><span class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;"> </span>“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?</span> <span class="text Matt-25-38" id="en-NIV-24047"><span class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;"> </span>When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?</span><span class="text Matt-25-39" id="en-NIV-24048"><span class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;"> </span>When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-39"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40" id="en-NIV-24049"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="versenum" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;"> </span>“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." -Matthew 25</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these." -Mark 12:31</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't know what God wants us to do. It seems pretty simple in the passages above. But it would be crazy right?! </span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What about the finances? The beds? The space? The food? The 29 children who could camp outside of our gate the next night? </span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I think God is asking, "What about this one?" </span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="text Matt-25-40"><span style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so I'm asking back, "What about this one?" </span></span></span></div>
Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-18432582637896991262014-03-10T02:52:00.003-07:002014-03-10T02:52:42.468-07:00“I don’t want to be _________________ any longer.”<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I don’t want to be _________________ any longer.” </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fill in the blank. Sinful. Angry. Single. Selfish. Hurt. Alone. Dry. Sick. Busy. Here. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There’s a word that we can all put in that blank. Something that we all tell God that we don’t want to be... </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And it’s usually followed by a sentence that is cried out in frustration or desperation, that goes something like this....</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“God, I want to be ________________!” </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Content. Joyful. In community. There. Married. On the mountaintop. With my friends. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wonder what would happen if we all stopped asking God when we are going to get what we want, and we are we going to stop being what we don’t want to be? </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And instead we ask him to show us what we have now that is of value? </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we speak sentence #1, it brings dissatisfaction. </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we speak sentence #2, it defers our hope. (Proverbs 13:12) </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we ask Him to show us what we have now that is of value - it can only create praise and humble us to worship. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Worship is where we render our hearts to be transformed into His likeness. It doesn’t come from dissatisfaction, or hoping that when I get this or reach this place then things will be better. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We get too caught up in trying to fight who we are not made to be. We spend too many hours praying not to be something or somewhere. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Any time Jesus healed sickness in the Bible, He did not look at the sick person and say “Oh, you are very sick.” He looked at them and said, “You are healed!” </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When Jesus tells the disciples to feed the five thousand, He doesn’t tell the disciples “Not enough food!” He says “We already have what we need!” </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He didn’t look at the repentant thief hanging on the cross next to Him and say, “Now you! You were particularly sinful.” He says “You will surely be with me in paradise!” </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He speaks who He created us to be, who He died for us to be -- NOT what we can see that we are in that moment. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because we live by faith and not by sight. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Proverbs 23:7 As a man thinketh in his heart, so he will be... </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want to think about myself the way that Jesus thinks about me. I want to speak about myself the way that Jesus speaks about me. I want to believe about myself, what Jesus believes about me. That’s true humility. Seeing yourself how Jesus sees you. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I respect our older boys in our home beyond what words can ever describe. They are young men that walk with such faith, and are pioneering what the Doors home stands for. They’re like that first child in the family that the parents are still learning when that child falls you don’t need to always rush to their side. The parents are still learning that when that teenager asks to go to the library to study but has on her party clothes - you should probably say no. They are the guinea pigs. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all know that. They know that. They rejoice through it, and most days do it gladly.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I see one of them struggling with something, or hear a conversation going on about girls (that can sometimes happen when you have large amounts of teenage boys under one roof) I can begin to think, “What if they don’t turn out ok?” </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I see their sin, and I want to panic! “What if we’ve messed this up?!” I want to fight that sin so that they can be who God has made them to be. (Disclaimer: I know they aren’t perfect, I’m not that dumb...) </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I sat down to pray for these boys, and God spoke to me and said, “Speak over them as I speak over them. See them as I see them.” So instead of laboring hours praying “Jesus, let his eyes be fixed on you and not on girls.” or “God, take away his disobedience.” I just proclaimed, “Man of righteousness, man of humility, man of gentility, man of who serves the Lord with all He is, man who loves the Lord with all that’s within him...” and so on and so on....and I let the praise come forth. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I don’t want to spend too much time acknowledging who Satan is trying to make these boys, I would rather spend my time agreeing with God for who He has already made them to be. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s how we sin abolished in our lives and that’s when we see certain struggles coming to an end. When we combat them with praise. Proclaiming who God is and who we are, renews our minds. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This phrase is beautiful and you’ve probably heard it before, but let me tell it to you again. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We have to stop telling God how big our problem is, and tell the problem how big our God is. </span></span><br />
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Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877765337426018682.post-70070490127649635452014-02-17T20:15:00.001-08:002014-02-17T20:15:28.127-08:00Rest Assured<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen. -Hebrews 11:1 </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">What does it mean that faith is the evidence of things unseen? </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">That there are things that are unseen and the only reason that we know those things exist is because of faith. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">These past few weeks I’ve seen this awesome vision that the Lord brought about called Doors Primary school start it’s second full year of school. I’ve seen beautiful children come abounding into school with joy and relief to be back. And I’ve seen a devoted and passionate headmistress walk through the slum in her high heels and drag those children back to school who didn’t make it the first few days. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">And I’ve seen busyness over every page in my planner. I’ve seen sunken looks on kids faces as I give them snappy answers. I’ve seen beautiful joy exploding out of two friends that spent 4 days in my house and blessed me abundantly. I’ve seen a two week battle with a stubborn child over whether or not he wants to use his mosquito net be resolved with laughter and tears. I’ve seen the death of too many sweet children, and I’ve seen life abounding. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Our sight is undoubtedly one of the greatest ways that we perceive where we are, who we’re with, and what’s going on around us. What we see with our own two eyes can comfort us, appease our worries, or depending on the situation really freak us out. It’s one of our five senses that we live and perceive by every day. But for the believer, God has given us a totally different sense to live by and that’s faith... </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">I rely too much on what I see in my own life every day to determine whether or not I’m being faithful. I’ve been challenged this past week by realizing that when I see the fruit of my relationship with Christ, or see myself having actions that I deem faithful, I feel faithful, and I feel assured that I’m okay. When I wake up and get in the Word before crazy days start, on days when I control my tongue and pray for somebody rather than slander them, on days where I am singing and praising and praying in the Spirit all day long, on days when I am moving with God and I know it’s step by step, move for move --- those days are days where I can see the fruit of my relationship with Christ and in turn I am assured that I’m being faithful! </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">But what about the days where that quiet devotion in the morning doesn’t happen? Or the days where I’m questioning God because I can’t see why I am where I am? Or the days where it is so hard for me to love people that I would rather go to the dentist and have a root canal and tell them to go easy on the Novocain? </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">What about those days? Did Satan come in with a vacuum cleaner and devour all my faithfulness? The days where I can’t see myself acting in faith or see the fruit of my relationship with Christ...I feel unassured that it’s there. They can make me believe that I am falling away. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Then there are seasons of walking through the fire. There are seasons of pain and loss. There are seasons of dryness. There are seasons of disobedience. There are all types of seasons that may be days, weeks, months, or years...Seasons where we don’t see our faith, and we quickly divert to measure ourselves as doing wrong, as unfaithful. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">But in Hebrews it says that faith is the substance of things hoped for. Faith makes God’s promises over us have substance!!! Faith makes my relationship with Christ have substance! Faith is the evidence of what we can not see! Even when we are looking into our own lives to see if that relationship is there - should we do that? Or should we have faith that the relationship is there and it’s thriving? </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Let’s talk about our own faiths for a moment. So many days when we are in the process of being refined (which is constantly!) we don’t see our faith and we lose assurance and immediately we begin to doubt and question and worry and judge ourselves (when we can’t see our faith we lose faith that it’s there). When we can’t see our relationship with God, we doubt that it’s there and we doubt that it’s working. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">But what God has been teaching me is that He is always tilling the soil and we don’t need to judge ourselves at all. We need to come before Him with meekness - meekness is giving God the power to judge you without defending yourself. We need to seek the Lord for what the condition of our heart is. He is the <u>only</u> one who can ever see the condition of our heart and our Spirit CLEARLY and righteously. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Upon asking Him to give us a clean heart, to renew our minds, and to love us that very day -- then we need to keep walking and trust Him. Trusting that the condition of my relationship with Him is right, and that maybe I’m not “seeing” the fruit of my faith for the day because really God is teaching me to live by faith. To trust the unseen instead of trusting what’s right in front of me. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">To have assurance that my faith is there even when I can not feel it or see it. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">I’m rejoicing on the days where I’ve come meekly before Him and the fruit of my relationship with God appears to be unseen to me, because I do have assurance that that means that my faith is being faithful. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">I don’t need to see the fruit of my faith. I don’t need to see why I am where I am. I don’t need to see how faithful I am being for the day. These beautiful eyes that God has gifted us with need to be focused on seeing Jesus, and when they are fixed on seeing Jesus that’s all that people are going to see in you too. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Cleanse your heart and come surrendered before Him and then... </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">When you can’t see your faith, you can be assured that you are living by it and it’s being built up every day. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">When you can’t see why you are where you are, you can be assured that it’s because you are relying on God and that His purpose is deeper than what you can see. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">When you are in a season where you’ve been fighting to even feel like you’ve ‘got’ a little bit of God and you don’t feel like you’re doing anything right because you’re not getting an answer, you can believe that you are right where you need to be and that the ways that God is teaching you to trust Him are increasing your dependence on Him every day. </span><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><br style="font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">The mere act of looking to what is unseen causes us to live an undeniably life of faith. Have assurance in that today.</span>Doorshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11123801717496245944noreply@blogger.com0