Not Good Enough

Have you ever felt like you didn’t measure up? That you were scared to try because you had just a bit of a fear that your inadequacies would show their face?

I step foot in Haiti in just less than a few days and I’m honestly scared. Terrified. I said it for the first time today out loud, and it feels good to be so truthful with myself. I am not scared of what you may think though; you see the fear actually is that I feel like I am not “good enough” to be there. What if I’m not spiritual enough? I know way too many people whose spiritual walks put mine to pure shame. I’ve messed up so many times and in such big areas of life that surely I’ve gone too far. I seriously can’t be smart enough? So many others have experience and life skills that far exceed mine. What happens when I don’t know what to do when weird medical situations come up that I am just totally overwhelmed by? What if my language skills are suffering because I haven’t studied as much as I should have?

All these things run through my head like a stampede of horses… they are loud and impossible to ignore. My excitement to get back to the country I love is undeniable, but I had to realize something today that I seemed to have forgotten. God has never once asked me to know everything, speak Creole fluently, or never make a medical misjudgment. Never has He asked me to do suffer through something I couldn’t handle. Never once did He ever leave me all alone. He is faithful. Always He is faithful.

I will not let fear of failing or not being "enough" stop me. Nothing was ever accomplished that was not  attempted. More importantly, nothing great has happened that didn't first begin with courage. Facing tough things and weaknesses in us pushes us to depend on strength outside of ourselves. 

Thankfully, instead of complex standards I could never measure up to, I feel God asked me to do some pretty simple things. He created me to love, and gave me the gift of a heart to serve. So THAT I know I can do well--- I can deeply treasure each baby I hold or child I come across. I can pay attention to those that are hurting and need an advocate. I can converse in broken Creole just enough to let those I’m talking to know I care.  I can feed precious mouths, smile for precious eyes, and hold precious hearts close so they feel the love of a God who values them more than we will know this side of life. 

Hopefully I WILL learn more each day and become more spiritually sound with passing time… but for right now---

Each time he said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Through the eyes of an orphan

The following are based on true stories that I have come across in the past few years that deserve to be told: (disclaimer- the pictures are not of the child the story is about for protection of privacy)

Try to put yourself in their place and see the world through the eyes of an orphan….

The wetness around you is thick. The stench is so pungent that it hard to take even just one of the 40 breaths you require a minute. It is so dark all around you- it just validates the evil that has happened to take place in your short life. Those your age desperately need warmth and soft blankets swaddling them, but you freeze as you lay completely naked in the viscous stench. Others that are as fresh out of the womb as you couldn’t last as long as you without anything in their belly… but you have a just enough strength to let out occasional weak cries- desperate pleas for help that seem hopeless in this hole you are in. You never once have been held with love. You were not wanted; your mom couldn’t afford to feed you because she couldn’t even really feed herself. Naked, hungry, cold. In the bottom of a privy. And you’re just barely a day old.

Now imagine you are a common man. An odd sound is coming from the outhouse, and quite honestly it is one you just can’t ignore. You swear it sounds like a baby’s cry, but it is so faint that it is hard to tell. A few steps from the door cause your stomach to jump to your throat and your skin to become clammy… the source of the sound is undeniable now. Anything but this. Peering over the ledge of the seat, you can barely make out the baby lying in the muck. Little fists pulled up to its face. And like an angel sent from God, you lower yourself slowly into the sewage to snatch the newborn from certain death. This baby is nothing but thin skin and tiny bones. You have no idea, but the warmth of your arms has changed everything for this tiny life.

This time it was a happy life. You weren’t like those kids who didn’t have a mom and dad that ran in the streets. Well, you weren’t at least until a hurricane wiped away everything that brought you joy. It took your mom’s smile when you’d dance. It stole your dad’s dedication to bringing home food for your family every day. That hurricane even took your sister you loved to tease until she was furious with you. Oh, to have her be angry with you again… even just once. It took everything from you. You wandered the streets in a daze a while, but eventually found yourself at a place where they take in kids like you. Kids with no one left. They feed you, have a school you attend, and give you a safe place to live within the walls of the compound. Sometimes people visit, and you watch as all the other kids rush to them with delight. Some days you even join in their joy of those people who radiate the love back, but today is different. Today you just feel sad as you watch the other kids play and laugh with the visitors. You sit as far out of the way as you can and your heart breaks watching the visitors hug the other kids with huge smiles. You can see it as clear as day in your mind as you remember your mom’s face light up when she’d take you in her arms. She’d tell you how much she loved you, just as your sister would come to try to jump in. She always annoyed you so much back then, so how can you miss her so much now?

One of the kids on the bench must have drawn a visitor with a long flowing skirt in, because she’s walking over to your table. Your sad eyes barely meet hers, and you fight back tears because there is something in her gentle eyes that reminds you of your mom. Before you realize it, she sits down- next to YOU! You can’t raise your face to her right now, because you’ll know you’ll start to cry and she shouldn’t be distracted by you when all the other kids are so happy to see her. The girl with the tie die shirt and green skirt does something next that you are not sure you’ll ever forget. She wraps her arms around your skinny frame, and she just holds you. You try to be strong at first, but you melt because you’re just eight years old after all. Seconds are all it takes for the tears you held inside so long to start flowing, and your soft sobs are just loud enough to catch her attention. She doesn’t say anything at first, but then it comes… in desperately broken Creole, she asks you why you are sad. In a sobbing whisper, you say, “Paran mwen te mouri”. Her embrace strengthens as she realizes what you said--- your parents had died. Her showing up that day and holding you close in her arms prove the words she says next as she tells you God loves you.

Now this time it would be enough if your only problem was that you were dangerously malnourished at three months of age. But your story of how you got to this point of starvation is the real clinch. It is truly a story of tragedy, one that is sure to cause people to have to take a deep breath. Your mom was just a child herself at 15 years old when she was raped by the man who was living with her mom. When the story surfaced as her belly grew, it was horribly distorted and the man accused this sweet girl of seducing him. Instead of her mom defending her daughter, she was thrown out to the streets so this evil man could stay. Homeless and desperate, your mom did the best she could with the best attitude she could for your first few months of life, but starvation overtook both of you. You were the size of a newborn after months of not growing, and she knew she had to save you from dying. She brought you to a place for babies just like you. Though it hurt so much to leave you there, she saved your life. God’s destiny for you is far too great to miss.

Final story…

You were the curse. Yes, in this land of voodoo and witchcraft, you were it. Why were you the cursed one? Well you just so happened to be the second baby in the womb. Nothing more, nothing less.. that’s just the way it is. Your mom hid that she had twins from everyone she could, and only takes your sister in public so people don’t know she’s cursed. Your sister is plump with health, but your emaciated frame is a result of only getting the leftovers, if any. You are hidden, shunned, and punished endlessly for your curse. If only you knew that just a country away that twins were a blessing—dressed in matching dresses and bows. Your stuff would be purple, and all of your twin sister’s stuff would be pink. If only you knew that because of this horrible belief that you are cursed, your immune system would be so dangerously destroyed from starvation that a common bout of diarrhea would take your precious life just months from now. Yet when you reach Heaven’s gates, you will learn just how cherished you are. For the very first time, you will never go hungry again. You will never feel like you don’t matter. Never ever again will you feel cursed, for you were created for greatness in Heaven you never could have fathomed. You will discover that God loved the weak and powerless like you so much that He fiercely commanded people to defend you so many times in His book you never got to read. You will discover God whose love lasts for eternity. You will finally experience the truth of Psalm 27:10- “For my father and my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord will take me in.”

“If you can’t feed one hundred people, then feed just one” –Mother Teresa

“Let us not be satisfied with just giving money. Money is not enough, money can be got, but they need your hearts to love them. So, spread your love everywhere you go.” –Mother Teresa

“He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.” –Jim Elliot

Nefarious

>>God, please break my heart for the things that break yours….

I have to give you fair warning- reading this blog shouldn't be easy. It shouldn't be one you read and just go on to sip your coffee and wonder about your schedule for the day. Pray that it rocks your world to the point of action. Truly try to imagine these real life events happening to someone you are watching, and then just try to move on with life unchanged....

Nefarious: Wicked. Evil. Despicable. Immoral. Reprehensible.

Let’s take a journey today... we will travel the world and the word “nefarious” will forever be burned in our brain.

Imagine you see a beautiful little girl- dark brown eyes sparkle with light and joy. She’s barely skin and bones, but she uses the tiny bit of energy left to spin in circles dancing with her the other children in her village.  Her home is a shack, her food is literally garbage, and her family struggles to survive. She has learned more in her tiny body and more in her short life about survival than she ever should have had to. She is just a child, with a wonder of the world and an innocence that should never be touched. She is precious--- of incalculable value.

Her family is in the depths of poverty, but at least she has a mom and dad. You smile at how adorable she is as she plays and explores the curiosities of her little village- at least she has a magnificent joy!

You watch as one day a man whose dark eyes host an evil glare comes to the village. You see him speak with several parents, and then he hands them a small amount of money. Your heart pounds when he drags the girl in her tattered dress away from her family… her blood curdling scream will always haunt your memory.

Shaking and terrified, this petite babe is taken away to a place no girl should ever have to go. She is not old enough that anyone would even let her walk to school in America, yet she is put on display for lurking men to purchase. This is a child. A living, breathing human being who should be learning about the wonder of the world, not the fear that is required to keep her in submission. Men the age of her father now are destroying every ounce of innocence left in her spirit. Her soul has been been swallowed by the devil- a life destroyed one transaction at a time. They pay more because they want someone her age and innocence. One time she tried to refuse to work. A piece of cloth was shoved in her mouth so no one could hear her scream as she was raped by a customer. She experiences what no human being should ever have to feel, and she is just a tiny child. Tears only buy her beatings, so she learns to die inside so she stops feeling the repeated rape. Her dark brown eyes no longer sparkle… they are empty, lifeless, and numb.

This is not just another number or statistic of a girl sold into sex slavery… this is a person with a fingerprint that can never be replicated. At the expense of a man’s selfish touch, she will never stop shuttering at the thought of a gesture of towards her.

Imagine a teenage girl… bright blue eyes shine excitement for the life ahead. Her eastern European life has been fabulous, and now she has been promised a life of modeling in an incredible country just a passport away. Based on the looks of the guy who recruited her, she is in for a lovely modeling life with the most charming boyfriend on the universe. He treats her like gold as they travel to the new country. Oh, how lucky she feels! But all hell breaks lose when her passport and money is confiscated by the guy who brought her there so sweetly; he shoves her in an apartment with five other weeping teenage girls. Some appear bruised and beaten, others scrawny and emaciated. All appear extremely terrified. Before this bright eyed girl has time the chance to ask what is going on, the door swings open and four men stand there. Their faces are stern and inexpressive, as what they are about to do is beyond cruel. In the most forceful voice, one screams at them to strip down. A hesitation from the blameless girl instigates a brutal thrashing. Her bright blue eyes turn red with bloody tears. From this moment on, she has to learn men take what they want, leave her with the bruises they please, and toss her back to her pimp. When buyers come, they would make them take off their clothes as the men examine them like they were cattle. The skimpy amount of food provided is supplemented with drugs, and she comes to learn the drugs help numb the horrible pain. She just wants to die because she has no way out. The time she tried to run away she was found by the corrupt police and taken back to her pimp for little compensation. He taught her a lesson that intended to make sure she never attempted to leave again. She was once beautiful, educated, and filled with inspiration. She was going to be famous and married to a wonderful man someday. But you see her face to her knees rocking in the corner of the crowded apartment awaiting her next torture. Not even 18 years old, she never smiles any longer. She has no reason to. Just then, your heart drops as you see the door swing open once again….

It is like a bad dream- one that you can see and feel everything but cannot move fast enough to stop the evil from happening. You see a little girl in America in her pink and purple bed, unicorns on the walls. She is dreaming of being a princess in a faraway land rescued from a dragon, awaiting her prince charming.  The dream is shattered as the door creaks open, her eyes open wide in fear and the floorboards announce his drawing near. He tells her it is just their secret, and that she has to do this if she loves him. He gives her dolls and candy if she is good and doesn’t tell. She can’t quite understand what is happening to her, but it hurts so bad. Her mind is consumed with dreaming of a prince someday saving her from this man she thought was supposed to protect her.

You see this same girl in years to come- she is fourteen years old and now out on the streets wearing clothes that make her look twenty one. Fairytales are for children, and she knows no one will save her now after the years of loneliness and hiding the shame. She once was offered money for sex, and she couldn’t believe someone would give her money when she was so used to someone just taking from her before.  No matter how much it destroyed her soul, she has lost all sense of worth. People look at her bright makeup and short skirts and just scorn. She is rejected by society and discarded by her family, so the only place to turn is her “new family”- a man who claims to protect her as he takes his cut. She knows how to fake a smile to lure a man, but the pain never ceases. She has been beaten by Johns, kicked out of a moving car, and had a gun pointed at her head. But she knows if she can’t act like she is happy in her work, she will never make the money required of her to be able to come home. The night generally offers her forty different scenes to act like she is happy so she doesn’t get killed. Ah, you see instead of becoming a princess when she grew up, she has become the greatest actress of all.

Wreck my heart, God, for what wrecks Yours. 

1 out of every 3 girls is sexually abused as a child. 

1 out of every 5 boys is. 

When girls are trafficked, they can be gang raped, beaten, and starved for the soul purpose of "breaking their spirit"- seasoning her for the years of prostitution.

It is estimated 99% of all prostitutes were sexually abused as children.

The average age of entering prostitution is 13 years old.

Orphans are incredibly vulnerable to being trafficked due to the ability to make them disappear and no one even notices a thing about them missing. 

Fact: God desperately loves these victims, which means we are called to as well. He speaks to this topic on many occasions.

James 1:27

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world. 

Exodus 22:22-24

You shall not mistreat any widow or fatherless child. If you do mistreat them, and they cry out to me, I will surely hear their cry, and my wrath will burn, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children fatherless.

Isaiah 1:17

Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow's cause.

Psalm 27:10

For my father and mother have forsaken me, but the Lord will take me in.

Psalm 146:9

The Lord watches over the sojourners; he upholds the widow and the fatherless, but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin. 

Psalm 82:3

Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. 

Exodus 22:22

You shall not mistreat any widow or fatherless child.

Matthew 25:40

And the King will answer them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.'

God, open our eyes. Never let us be the same. 

Dear Haiti, you helped me write this...

I was physically shaking. Not from fear. Not from exhaustion…. No, this is the type of shaking every human wants to feel in life because they care about something THAT much….

I left Haiti in May 2011 with every intention in the world of returning in just a few short weeks after my required “leaving of the country” after 3 months of living there. My knee was swollen and had some issues during my time, so I was told I needed a quick surgery with a short recovery before heading back to my precious Haiti. I will never forget the moment waking up from the surgery and the surgeon telling me the words, “Well, you sure won’t be going back to Haiti.”.  Devastation in a moment— my oh my, I learned devastation so well that day.

The bone where my previous ACL surgery had attached to had become necrotic and needed to be replaced with bone grafts. When those healed six months later, I would need another surgery to replace the ACL once again. It would then be six more months of physical therapy before I could return to work I was so passionate about. I was faced with devastation I couldn’t have imagined prior to this lesson in patience.

The following times included the most humbling events I have experienced so far in life. My knee became infected after the third surgery and therefore required a fourth surgery. My ignorance led to a failed marriage and a move away from my family—further and further from my passion to return overseas. Before this bottoming out, I never understood the depth of the doubt of how God could ever use a sinful and desperately broken person like me. I walked around feeling like I didn’t fit anywhere any longer…

Then it happened. Not overnight. Not in a brilliant moment of epiphany. It didn’t happen in a church, nor did it happen suddenly in a conversation of deep pain…

Months of facing the disappointments and pain- struggle after struggle to try to pull myself out of shattered life I had created… I finally lost the strength to fight and collapsed into the most loving arms in this universe. God saved me from myself and my feeble attempts to fix my mistakes.

He whispered life back into my soul that had been sucked dry. He demonstrated insane power, intense grace, incredible hope, and incessant love for those who have been beat down in life. Never had this verse made so much sense to me:

Isaiah 40:28-30

Do you not know? Have you not heard?

The LORD is the everlasting God. The creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.

Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall;

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary,

They will walk and not be faint.

I decided to surrender the destructive things that I thought brought me comfort in a time of pain. I traded those in for the uncomfortable challenges that were required by a life abandoned to God.  I exchanged the label “shameful” for “humbled”, for God makes beautiful things out of what humans destroy.

So why was I shaking?

Because while I was beaten down by evil, I could not be ruined…

While I was tempted and failed by evil, I am redeemed…

While I didn’t have the strength any longer, I didn’t have to save myself…

While words ate at my soul and worth, God filled those empty holes with purpose…

I was shaking because I was reminded of what I was put on this world for. There are the most beautiful children starving to death, orphans awaiting families to love them, girls trafficked for sex slavery, and desperately hurting people screaming so loud that no one could hear them.  There are girls devastated by sexual abuse by people they trust most, women marred by the words and actions of a vindictive man, and families destroyed by adultery, abuse, and lies. It is now that I realized no matter how utterly we have failed, God has this incredible charge for our lives. We are to stand up for the defenseless and fight for justice in the world. We are commanded to care for the forgotten, feed the hungry, and live with integrity and hope.

I decided to start writing this blog again because, while I may not be living overseas at the moment, God is still teaching me so much about things to shout to the world about! There is so much to learn about freedom from oppression, in the million ways it rears its ugly face. I am so excited to write about the things that I know I will never stop being so passionate about— perhaps we can transform our minds, revolutionize our lives, and discover what life is really about through the eyes of a hungry soul.

I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all; but whatever I have placed in God's hands, that I still possess.  -Martin Luther