I’m weary and restless, stirring at the thought of the world’s bony children and bare feet. Somehow, these things warm my heart. Those who have nothing are dressed with smiles and filled with joy, finding contentment in another day to live. They rejoice and give thanks, always finding something to delight in. I see them and I’m reminded of, “You turned my wailing into dancing; You removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to You and not be silent. Oh Lord my God, I will give You thanks forever.” Psalm 30:11-12
I’m itching to share good news, to hold the coffee colored hands of an African child and tell them how wanted and valued and special they are. I want to skin my knees playing with those little boisterous beings, and then collapse on cool ground to soak in God’s goodness. I want to spend my hours drawing water, laughing as I drench myself trying to carry it back. Oh yes, these things warm my heart.
“When have you ever read a story of God’s great work that made a lot of sense, a story that didn’t seem a little over the top, a little impossible? Not often. Radical, extraordinary love just doesn’t make sense in a fallen world; that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. But it is the very nature of God.” – Katie Davis
I feel this unexplainable urge, this push and prod, to move to Africa and do these things. To share good news and to hold hands. To play with children and soak in God’s goodness. Serving, laughing and loving. Somehow I know that God, who resides in this heart of mine, is the source of it all. This growing love I feel towards people I’ve yet to meet is surely God ushering me into a life of discipleship. “Go,” He whispers. And go I will, running fast and free to Him, to Africa, to a life on the other side of the sea. “In the end, love doesn’t just keep thinking about it or keep planning for it. Simply put: love does.” – Bob Goff