Love. Jesus. Hope.

Whenever I think too much about the future, and how exactly I’m going to put flesh on these dreams of mine, I start to get a little overwhelmed. How? When? Who? So many details, so many obstacles. So many reasons that it’s all too optimistic, too unrealistic, too unlikely. And even too vague…What exactly do I want?

But recently I’ve been re-inspired by Mother Teresa. She achieved great things in her life, touched many lives and is known throughout the world. But her journey began in obscuirty. She was unknown and insignificant in the great scheme of things. But hearing God, and obeying His words in her life, she began to change the world. A quote of hers has given me great hope and has been going around in my head these past days :

“Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time and always start with the person nearest you.”

It is so simple. Not profound, but it brings my dreams down to their most basic form. Loving a person. Though there are lots of different things I hope for, it all starts with this most simple beginning. Loving people.

I’m so excited. It almost seems possible when I think like this. Just go. Just be. Just love. See the person in front of you. Grow.

And then today my heart was touched again. What a relief.

And there’s a bit of a back story I suppose. For the past few…um…months? longer? I have been uninterested in church stuff. It has felt irrelevant, uninspiring, shallow. It is possibly more an indication of what is going on in my life than a problem with the church…but there you have it. So when I heard that yet another ‘ministry’ was coming to town, it hardly even registered on my radar. I’ve hardly attended any of these meetings, and haven’t minded missing them. Most times I don’t understand what everyone is so excited about.

For a while I have felt uninterested in supernatural things….not feeling like I really wanted to bother with healings and miracles. It was an added extra, that I didn’t have the energy to bother with.

So…I didn’t go to the meeting on Monday night. I did consider it at the last minute, but had kids to consider and hadn’t planned ahead enough to get a babysitter…anyway…details! I stayed home. Hundreds of others went.

A friend told me I needed to hear it… she didn’t elaborate, but I trusted her. D always copies the audio files for me, so today I listened to the guy talk.

Oh my heart. He just told stories. Stories that I so needed to hear.

He told us about praying for a dead baby. Dead for 5 or 6 hours. Blue, grey dead. Then seeing the child gasp and cry and given back to it’s mother to nurse at the breast.

And he told us about the HIV/AIDS  infected mother and her baby. About praying for them. Hugging and kissing them and seeing them along with 40 others healed from AIDS.

Stories of remote villages. Healing of sicknesses. Dead being raised.

It sounded just like what Jesus went around doing.

And man. I cried. Because it IS Jesus’ heart. That it IS what I want too. I DO want to see these things, and do them. You see. Everybody knows that when a mother is holding a dead child in her arms, the only thing that she really wants  is to get her baby back.

And now: In love. And vulnerable. And shaken. Because I’m scared to believe again. I’m scared that it’s too good to be true. I’m scared someone is lying to me. Scared of people exagerating this stuff. Making it up.

I’m scared of disappointment. Scared of failure.

But there’s hope… and wanting to believe.

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