I love to read blogs. I think they are a great way to broadcast thoughts, to get feedback from a wide variety of people, and to storehouse your memories. That being said, I just spent some time looking for some fellow missionary bloggers to follow. I found entire sites dedicated to cataloging missionaries in foreign countries, I found inner city missionaries whose blogs had been moved, consolidated into church program websites, or abandoned. In my search, I could not find one inner city missionary that blogged of their own volition, sharing their own thoughts, fleshing out their own salvation with fear and trembling.
I see something wrong with this picture. Not just because I want to read blogs by fellow missionaries that experience the same sorts of things that I do -- that our missionaries do-- but, also because I realize that I don't write like that... and I should. So, I suppose I'm on here to write a little resolution... again. I want to write from my heart. I want to share what God shows me, whether it's in my time alone with Him, in the community that I am seeking to minister to, or in my time working with my hands in a dirty old warehouse or vacant, desolate buildings.
I think there is a huge issue in America. It might be cliche, but we ignore our own mission fields way too often. The suburban church chooses foreign countries for mission trips and mission support-- helping the poor (sometimes), planting churches, going to dark places (sometimes)... dark places in other lands, when our land is filled with dark places, usually the places that suburbanites refuse to even drive through, as though the devastation might be contagious. So many of our large cities are rotting from the inside out, and we're letting them.
So, I'm going to write about this one. St. Louis. The dark place God has drawn me to. The things that He shows me here. The things I struggle with in this lifestyle that I have chosen. The things that bring me abundant joy.
I hope you keep reading.
Ten years ago, I sat in the dining hall of a Christian camp. A man my father's age sat with me. It was April, and I had no idea... I had...
In 2017, I wrote a book. It’s not the book I thought I would write. I was on course to finish my third novel, In Terms of Liv by Novemb...
God makes me giggle sometimes. "No girl should feel she has to trade her body for love or be an old maid"
There once was a girl who wore a superhero cape. It wasn't a fancy cape. A hodgepodge of florals and stripes, bold and tame. Fashi...