Ashamed

These days I am almost afraid and ashamed to admit that I'm a Christian. I'm afraid because I know as soon as the word leaves my mouth I'll be associated with people who hate homosexuals. People who cast every vote as though abortion is the only issue. People who think God wants us to drop more bombs on Iraq because he only loves America. People who are regarded in several social circles as ignorant, backwards, close-minded, oppressive, and hateful people.

I am ashamed because I don't do nearly enough to counteract that stereotype. I don't explain that it doesn't matter to me whether homosexuality is sinful or not because Jesus told us to love everybody anyway, or that I think God wants to save the whole world, not just the USA. I don't explain that not all Christians are superficial, judgmental, hypocrites.

Half the time I just end up agreeing with their arguments. Because I can feel their pain, it's so real to me. I can relate, but how can I possible stop there.
Sure, I can and should be sensitive to others opinions, values, beliefs, or morals.
But I also need to realize the part of my story that makes me different from them.
I need to Realize the part that changed me, the part worth sharing.

I need to start taking a bit of a stand for my God. Obtaining a bit of a confidence for sharing the ways his grace has affected me personally!

Spirituality

I think part of my problem is that I want spirituality to be more CLOSE and more REAL.
It's like I can understand why people wear pendants around their necks and why they perform chants and gaze at stars. They are lonely.
I am not talking about lonely for a lover or a friend.
I mean lonely in the universal sense, lonley inside the understanding that we are tiny little people in a tiny little EARTH suspended in an endless void that echoes past stars upon stars upon stars.

There is something beautiful about a billion stars held steady by a God who knows what he is doing.
I imagine God is up there somewhere.
I imagine him looking down on this earth, half angry because his beloved mankind has cheated on him, yet hopelessly in love with her.

Madagascar

October 2010.
Over two and a half years ago.
I wrote around 115 letters to be put in shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child.
I can remember praying over that stack of purple cardstock with my youth pastor and friends.
I can remember praying nights after that.
I prayed for a penpal.
I prayed for someone to connect with from a foreign country.
Because how cool is that?!
I prayed the boxes would arrive safe.
I pictured kids tearing through boxes on their Christmas day.
I pictured their joy.
But I also selfishly prayed I would get something in return.
I prayed for a reply.
At least one reply.
I wanted the hours I spent hand writing each letter to feel worth while.
I wanted to hear back from at least one appreciative kid that the efforts were worth it.

But I didn't.
And after a few months I lost hope.
No big deal though right?
Everyone had warned me before writing how slim of a chance it would be that I be written back.
They told me how the language barrier in the country most of these boxes would be sent to would be enough to discourage kids from writing back.
They told me the possibility of having maybe only a handful of translators in each village.
They told me not to be disappointed when I don't get one back.

But I wrote anyways.
Letter after letter.
With that little hope that maybe I would.

But then out of nowhere, on June 27, 2013. I received a letter.
From a girl named Sachricia.
Who lives in a village called Maromandia in Sainte Marie Madagascar.

She wrote how she walks 3 kilometers everyday to school and how she prays daily for me. She mentioned how she had sent one letter before and never got a reply.

What a beautiful lesson of never losing hope.
Never giving up on the power of our God!
I am blessed!