Lead me on!

"Anyone who intends to come with Me has to let me lead. You're not in the driver's seat. I am. Don't run from suffering; embrace it. Follow Me and I'll show you how." Matthew 16 (MSG)

I am so incredibly thankful God is in the driver's seat. He is leading, in power, in love, in wisdom. He is my perfect, faithful leader. Why should I worry or fret? Lead me on, Oh Jesus.

    When I feel so tired emotionally I am not sure I can take another step.

When I hold a sobbing six year old who doesn't want to leave the safety of my arms.

         When I stand on the other side of the locked door of a broken girl. "It is ok." I say, "I will just sit outside here and wait for you." 

    Lead me on when there are no seeming resources, or answers.

When I am frantically hunting for a missing girl in the dark streets of Quito. 

               Lead me on towards justice and mercy. 

  Lead me in the wait, in the doubt, in the dark, in the light.

           Lead me, oh Jesus to You.

Let me put on the seatbelt of Your Spirit and Word. Let me sit back and exclaim over the breathtaking views. Let me anticipate what is coming around the next corner. Let me cry with and love with You in the brokenness. Let me laugh when I bounce high from the jar of the potholes. 

           Lead me on, Oh Jesus!

Come walk with Me

For about ten weeks I had the joy of studying God's Word with a group of women, most of them missionary moms serving in Ecuador. We studied "Children of the Day," a Beth Moore study on I and II Thessalonians. I missed several of the group sessions due to my unpredictable and extra busy schedule with Casa Adalia, but oh the blessing of those sweet afternoons when I could join the others in Esther Borman's living room, sharing together what God is teaching us, sharing our heartaches and frustrations, our times of rejoicing...and praying for one another. How I needed those prayers. I still do!

Here is a beautiful excerpt from the day we studied I Thess 2:12. May you be as encouraged as I was!

You and I can’t walk “worthy of God” when we’re walking alone, no matter how much sin we are dodging. The theology of walking happens in His presence.

The Bible unfolds with an image of God walking among His people and draws to a close with Jesus, His risen Son, doing the same. Between those corresponding divine footprints, hundreds of times and in multiple ways, He bids man “come walk with Me.” To walk “before Him”, as so many verses word the concept, is to live continually God-aware. 

To walk before God is to travel down the highway with your spiritual sunroof wide open. Even when you’re looking straight ahead, hands on the wheel, you know those rays are bathing you in warmth and that wind is cleansing the air. If the clouds are thick and heavy overhead, you know what’s above them. You relish hearing from God, talking to God, and also dwelling in contented secure silence before God, confident that He never budges.

That “secure silence” part is crucial. If misinterpreted, silence can become a one-grave cemetery for intimacy with God. We all have seasons when we don’t’ feel like God is near. They are temporary if we don’t break fellowship and walk off in a huff. Day in, day out, we take Him at His Word.

Come walk with Me. Even with a limp. That’s what Jacob did (Gen. 32:31). Even in the fire. That’s what Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego did (Dan. 3:25). Even when we feel like all hope is gone and no one came through. That’s what the two on the road to Emmaus did. (Luke 24:15)

Come walk with Me, whatever shape you’re in, no matter how wounded or bruised. Just bring Me your whole heart – even in ten thousand shards – and let’s walk the rest of this thing out together (2 Chron.6:14). “This is the way; walk in it” (Isa. 30:21). He will never lead you into the path of a freight train, but He’ll meet you in the carnage should you choose that route. He will never veer you from your destiny but, should another path seduce you, He can turn a long, ugly road back home. When you find yourself unwelcome where you thought you’d been sent, He’ll help you move on. If you walk out with Him day to day and season to season, even what seems like the most futile detour will end up taking you to a spot where a piece of your puzzle hides…

Just as Scripture testified that Enoch and Noah walked with God, may huddled angels whisper behind your back when the chronicles of history are complete, “See that woman right there? She walked with God. “ or “See that man right there? He walked with God.” 

Ok, my eyes are filled with tears at the thought of that someday when we will be in the never-ending-glory-land together. They are also filled with tears at the thought of the​ beautiful, extravagant love and grace of Our Jesus. On any given day or moment I can relate to walking with a limp, or facing a fire, or losing hope. Yet, 

because of Him, I am still walking! 

Earth has no sorrow that heaven can't heal.

Where do I begin to try and write a blog after so many months of silence? I have to begin with, "God has been faithful, just like my dad said so many times." It is oh so true.

I wonder sometimes why He has assigned me the labor of such a ministry as Casa Adalia. My Spanish is inadequate, the legal system feels impossible to understand, and there are so few resources within the system that it can leave me feeling helpless and overwhelmed. But over the past weeks that have been especially difficult, I realized that I must stop trying to be adequate, stop wanting the answers for tomorrow, and just let God be God. You would think I would have learned this better by now. :)

As I type I hear the song "Come as you are." One of the girls from Casa Adalia is listening to music. She loves listening to worship music, often in English. Songs like "Oh how He loves us so" and "The Revelation Song" -- the music pours out of her room. Sometimes I hear her trying to sing the lyrics, nearly always off key. It is incredibly beautiful. But then there are other times. Dark times. Despair is heard instead of joy. Instead of music, I hear her sobbing, deep sobbing that seems to be without end. I hold her in my arms, tears of my own fall. I pray. I offer the only thing I have, my presence, but not just me, God in me. "You are not alone," I tell her.

This week our daughter, Danelle, sent me a video of the song, "Come as you are" by David Crowder. She said they sang it during worship at church, and it made her think of the girls in Casa Adalia. 

As I listen to the words, I hear Him beckon me as well, this 56 year old imperfect and tired mom who does not have the answer to "Why?" 

Jesus, I come. I lay down the burdens and hurt. I lay down my heart. There is no sorrow You can't heal. 

Come broken hearted. Let rescue begin.

Come find your mercy, oh sinner come kneel.

Earth has no sorrow that heaven can't heal. 

So lay down your burdens. Lay down your shame.

All who are broken, lift up your face. 

Oh wanderer come home, you're not too far.

So lay down your hurt. Lay down your heart.

Come as you are.
By David Crowder