Where we are.

I have a confession. A retraction of sorts. A flaw that has been found in what I've been saying. (I don't really think anyone reads my blogs. But maybe, someday, someone will glean something from it. And in the mean time, it's like a journal for me to look back at.)

I've been on this passionate kick about going and changing the world and defying what America says about living and giving it all up to go tell others about Jesus. I've ranted and raved about missions and 3rd world and causes. Orphans and widows and the hungry and forgotten. Sex slave trade and blood diamonds. And I still am adamant about working towards healing and redemption in all these areas. I'll hopefully still end up working long term in Africa. My heart longs for it. I pray Kenya is working out. BUT......

I have neglected something huge. Today as I was serving some of my customers, I began seeing them differently. I felt I had a very small window into their hearts and lives. I saw pain. Misery. Hopelessness. An expectation of perfection in appearance and success that they seemed desperate to work for, but that is impossible to obtain. And I was reminded of something very important.

Just like the parable of the talents, when a servant is faithful with little, he will be given little. With much, he will be given much. I talk and I dream of big and huge adventures. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I think it's important to refuse getting caught in the rut of American Christianity. I want to live in crazy places, have crazy adventure. Be the hands and feet of Jesus and do crazily powerful things for the kingdom. However, too often in the dreaming and excitement over my desire for these things, I overlook the possibilities that are right here in front of me. Right now. Today. In this season. In Modesto. It may not be the place I want to end up. But it can be a place of incredible learning and experiences. I may be a barista barely making any money renting a bedroom and driving a car that's running solely on grace who shops at the Goodwill and with coupons at Target. But I can still be a reflection of Jesus. Here. Now. I can still love people with intensity, pouring myself into them knowing it may be only to be thrown aside and disregarded. I can see people's needs, their hurts, and pray healing and powerful restoration over them. I can look at the women I love and am surrounded with and desperately long for them to experience Jesus in the intimate way I've been honored to. I don't need to wait for a change of location or jobs to do these things. I can choose to do them where I'm planted. And in doing so, perhaps I'll realize more each day that maybe this is WHY I'm planted where I am.