I'm going to be honest with you (not as if I'm not always painfully honest...haven't I told you I had to take a poop one time on here?). Since going through the "Big D" and I don't mean Dallas, I've had a gut wrentching fear that God has abadoned me. That I have failed so miserably, he has pushed me aside for more important buisness like oh I don't know...ruling over the Universe? Sunday school taught me growing up that I was so important to God that he knew every hair on my head. I remember being a kid and trying to see if I could count each individual strand. 1, 2, 3,...I would give up around 46. Although I would never know the number, I believed with all my heart that God did and it was enough.
This recent doubt was very new to me and I have had a hard time handling it. I have been RSVP'ing to my own pity party each and every week, never understanding why I haven't heard some great calling from God. It drives me freaking crazy when people say "God told me to....". Are you kidding me? Did he say it through a burning bush? In a dream? Did you have to build an Ark to hear him? I figured I must be on the Jesus' "B" Team would never understand what people meant when they said they heard from God.
Now let's travel back to yesterday morning at Church. It's Missionary Festival at my church and I've never been on a mission trip. I'm nervous to travel to Mesquite, Texas let alone China or Africa. Needless to say, I highly doubted the service would be one that has and will forever change my life. I'm sure your wondering? Did God call you to the mission field...NO, THANK GOD! I love Jesus but I love me some A/C, Nordstroms, Toliet paper and westernized living. But, I did hear from God.
I experienced something so real that it didn't have to be an audible voice, it was so much more clear than that. I don't know much about India except that their food looks and smells like baby dump and lingers on your clothes wash after wash. You practically have to burn your clothes to get the curry smell out. I also know that I have been prejudice towards these people because they are Muslim and I'm a Republican. That's like trying to mix oil and water...it just DON'T mix! Of course, I've been too prejudice to not assume all were radicals due to the few who are. I've never loved India, never had a desire for anything or anyone from there. Until Sunday.
Pastor Pete tells us to close our eyes and bow our heads in prayer, "Lord, break our hearts for what breaks yours". I silently say the prayer and a rush of emmotion pours over me. My heart begins breaking. The tears fall down my face as I listen to two people from India I would normally tune out because there accent was too thick, talk about the darkness and desperation in India. And then I hear it. "Adopt a child from India". Say what? That can't be right. I stick my finger in my ear to clear out the fuzz. But, yet again. "Adopt a child from India".
So, here I am. Trying to figure out what this all means, not sure where to go from here. It's crazy because I can't tell you the first thing about any of this. But I can tell you what I heard and that I will continue to listen with both ears for God's guidance, wisdom and perfect timing.