The things I'm learning:

The things I'm learning: 

My home has been an idol. I've dressed it up and thought more about matching and accenting and decorating and cleaning it than I have paid attention to my true god and given priority to my family. 

I love things that cannot love me back. 

All of these things I love will fade, crack, fall apart, wear out and break eventually. Most of them are already showing the signs of aging. They are earthly. I must set my mind on things above. 

I can't take anything with me when I die. I cannot build up store houses here. I must invest in His kingdom. 

Jesus told the rich young ruler to sell everything he had and to give the money to the poor. He didn't tell everyone that. He probably only told me because I'm greedy and rotten and it was the only way to fix it. 

I think I may not make a difference and I may not be able to give much in comparison to others, but I can do something rather than nothing. It will make a difference when I get to heaven. It make a difference to someone. 

I am the hands and feet of Christ. I am acting on his behalf. He cares about the people I know about and ignore. He hears the cries of his children even when I/His hands are not obedient to help or serve or give. 

I have much, and I must share it. "Anyone who has two shirts should share with someone who has none." I have over 50 shirts. 

Hairbows on little girls don't really matter.

Fine clothes and jewelry don't make a woman beautiful. 

I won't miss things as much as I think I will. I will forget them. Trends will come and go and my tastes will change. 

Sometimes I am over emotional. Unfortunately, I often make decisions based on emotion. God can use that. 

I imagine that I have needs that are not needs at all. 

I have everything I will ever need to survive and thrive in my life. 

I have been numbed to my luxury and didn't even know how grossly and  opulently I live. 

It is hard for a rich man to go to heaven. 

It's easy to justify any greed or selfishness. 

I actually like having less options. It's cleansing and freeing and less stressful. My house feels bigger with less stuff in it. 

I'm not ready to let go of my curtains. 

I might be crazy to sell everything. But then again, it's probably crazy to love curtains so much. 

I am definitely crazy. 

I can do SOMEthing.

I can't sleep again. This time it's a different book: "It's not ok with me." I'm only 4 chapters in and I've been crying my eyes out, thinking about some kids a zillion miles away who have no idea I'm thinking about them. They don't know that anyone cares about them. They're sleeping in their own filth. 

My daughter peed in her bed and boy, was she upset. I cleaned her up immediately changed her clothes,  selecting from several dozen. Now I can't help but think of those who don't even have a hole, much less plumbing or water. And for those who have clothes, have probably never been changed and certainly not properly cleaned. Their parents aren't there to clean them up or listen to them or protect them because they've died from a %100 preventable disease. This is real. It's not a story. It's not just a few people. There's thousands. Tens and hundreds of thousands. 

Meanwhile, I have three pillows to sleep on. 

I feel nauseous. I can't look at these pillows. 

I'm nauseated by their situation and my lack of concern. I'm nauseated by my own opulence. 

Why do I have all this when they have nothing? 

I'm going to sell everything I have. It may not get me "much," but with the money I'm going to sponsor as many kids as I can. I'll keep what I need to function in this society. A few clothes, a little make up and soap, and the things I use everyday. I'll keep ONE pillow. And I'm not trying to start a fight with my husband, so I'll keep our bed frame, lol. I have curtains that hang on the wall for no other purpose than to look pretty. They can repurpose themselves to feed a hungry belly. I have hair straighteners and clothes and jewelry and throw pillows that my husband hates anyway and books and movies and decorative vases and apothecaries and wrapping paper and candles and craft supplies and lord knows I have shoes. This stuff just sits here, filling up drawers and closets and taking up space. I hardly use it. I don't care about it. What I DO care about is that a baby is on the street, covering up with scraps of garbage to stay warm. Even if its not forever that I can take care of them and even if its from a distance, even if its only a handful of kids I can help, I can do something. 

This has been a long time coming. Tonight jake laughed that it reminded him of me two years ago when I wanted to do this and didn't. How many hungry, cold nights went by that didn't have to? What have I been doing in the meantime? Why do I have so much and they have so little? How can I allow this to happen and at the same time, spring out of bed when my baby cries? These kids are just like mine and I know I would even sell myself to feed my babies.

I don't love my neighbor as myself. 

This has been a long time coming and I can't wait to see their pictures. I want to hang them on my fridge and look at them and love them everyday. Even if its a million miles away, someone has to love them. I can't wait. I can do something. 

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it. And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul? Is anything worth more than your soul? (Matthew 16:24-26 NLT)

Is any of my stuff worth more than a life? 

Coffee is keeping me up at night.

These thoughts are keeping me awake. 

I spent a summer doing humanitarian work in Peru. I scrimped and saved and even accepted donations. But was I more useful while I was there than the thousands I spent getting there could have been in the hands of those who were already there? Oh, but I built relationships. That makes an eternal difference. Those who are working already in Huancayo have already built relationships, lasting ones. They know the needs of the children and families there and quite frankly, everything in South America is much cheaper there than I could buy it here (not to mention shipping costs). I have known this since I left. Why am I not scrimping and saving now to send money to them? Or to anyone? My "mission" is over. I've "served" and now it's only something I talk about to make people think I'm altruistic or supernaturally caring and loving. "I went all the way to Peru to love on people. Look at me." 

I remember watching an episode of "Lifestlyes of the Rich and Famous" and seeing that J-lo spends 40k per year on her face cream. I can still see the swirling purple tubs with dollar sign graphics dancing around them. I remember feeling disgusted with her and thinking, "If she would just have some compassion and be slightly inconvenienced by doing without her face cream, she could send me to college and change my life." 

The blood of African children is saying the same thing to me. If I could be ever so slightly inconvenienced by not drinking a cup of coffee (or sometimes two) every morning, I could send $15 a month to world vision or compassion international keep someone alive.

 ALIVE.

 I could make the difference between life and death. This isn't about adding $15 to my bottom line of expenses and then continuing to enjoy my usual luxuries until I forget about those in need. I need to sacrifice a little for this. I need to remember that it's not about me. I need to have compassion as I go through my usual morning routine or through my day. 

Ha! Doing without a cup of coffee is sacrifice?? I am so spoiled. After three days without it, I will probably not even notice it much. Not to mention the fact that it is hardly necessary to my diet. That can barely be called a sacrifice, but I will start there.

So that's where I'm at when it comes to physical poverty. But there is another real and present danger among us: spiritual poverty. Though "undeveloped" (what a terribly inaccurate word to use) nations have real physical poverties, are they spiritually poor? Yes, probably. More than the US? More than where I am?  

No doubt I live in one of the (if not, the single most) spiritual depraved nations in the world (if not, the history of the world). What am I doing here? 

I want to go where coffee doesn't matter and neither do appearances or iPhones or chlorine free diapers. It would be easier there. 

Bloom where you are planted. 

Each of you should continue to live in whatever situation the Lord has placed you, and remain as you were when God first called you. This is my rule for all the churches. (1 Corinthians 7:17 NLT)

How convenient to me as a Christian that I'm planted in a field ready for working! How can I not take advantage of this opportunity!? 

I'm thinking of the great commission. When Jesus said to "go into all the earth," he was physically in Jerusalem. My American hometown, my backyard, is part of this vast expanse of "all the earth." Was Jesus giving me a command to travel or telling me to bloom?

Though the African blood of many is crying out to me, a broken heart across the street is calling too. A young girl who keeps calling me her mentor (the poor thing) is calling too. A mother who needs grace is calling me. A husband who needs encouragement and a daughter who needs my patience when answering her unanswerable questions like "Why?" and "Did god make cows or stop signs first?" is calling for my action. Another daughter who needs me lay on the floor and forget about my to-do list is calling me. A girl in my newsfeed who needs acceptance is crying out. A woman who made a mistake many years ago and is calling my office to find healing is in my American life for a reason. 

These spiritual needs are pressing, and to quote a sermon I recently heard, "Jesus always cared more about the spiritual than the physical." 

I don't want to find the almost expired items in my pantry and call it helping the food bank. I don't want to haul off the rumpled, unlaundered mess of clothes in the back of my closet and fool myself into thinking I'm meeting some fat American's needs. America's needs are mainly spiritual, not physical. 

In this season, I will sacrifice my wants and luxuries, starting with my daily brew. I will be a good steward of what is given to me. I will send my physical money to where it is needed, to the other "ends of the earth:" to those who need my money more than my silly, god-complex, American personality. And I will spiritually serve here, in this rich American soil where I was planted. I don't have to go all the way to Peru to love on people.  I will make a difference in the lives of the people put in my life by the God of the universe. I will connect with them on their level and meet their needs with my silly American personality. I will invite the heart across the street over for a cup of ...well,  coffee probably.  

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you. And you will be 

my witnesses, telling people about me everywhere—in Jerusalem, throughout Judea, in Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8 NLT)

In Jerusalem, their backyard, first. 

A cup of coffee first. 

Oh Jesus, be first and foremost in my life!