When Light Breaks Through

“Ugh. Firnsdhip. (Yes. Apparently that is how you type friendship after an EXHAUSTING week of preparing mentally for a conversation with a friend that you just don’t see eye to eye with. But you want to. But you just can’t.) 

I’ve been prepping all day to say it well. To cover it with grace and mercy. But in that moment it comes out all raw and uneven and not at all like I wanted. 

And now I feel emotionally like one might feel physically after a marathon.

And still nothing is resolved. It’s all hard and messy and hard to explain. And then those raw emotions, unfiltered, come out in a way that shadows over the truth.” 

That was a journal entry after a conversation gone awry a few months ago as I sat slumped over my computer, exhausted. 

Sadly it was only downhill from there. In fact, the whole thing spiraled out of control leading to the unresolved and somewhat confusing end to a friendship. 

And I suppose the enemy was pleased since his goal is destruction and death.

I learned a lot about myself and about God’s character in the weeks leading up to that and the weeks following. But the loss was still very real.  

So, as I sat on the cool concrete floor next to a dear friend last week while she was wrestling with the aftermath of a broken relationship, I determined to do one thing and to do it well: listen. I wanted to hear her story and what she felt. Right or wrong, I was there to hear and understand. By God's grace this story would end differently.

I was privy to the other side of the story from our mutual friend with whom she had the conflict. Now I wanted to see her angle. Where was the light not getting into the confusing shadows of her experience? Where had this whole thing gone wrong?

Because every story has multiple angles, not just two sides.

The more she talked and the harder I listened, the more I understood.

Turns out it was the same trio at play here that had wound its way into my situation a few months prior. 

Miscommunication. Misunderstanding. Assumptions. 

The ultimate trifecta to destroy all things relationship. 

As she shared, I prayed and asked for wisdom. When the time came, I gently nudged her towards truth and asked permission to share her side with our mutual friend, the other side of the conflict. 

“No,” she said. “Don’t tell her. It will only be more confusing. It’s over now. Everything is fine.”

Ah. There it was. The lie. The ultimate lie was that if the truth came out then there would be confusion. That it should just be swept under the rug and everyone would move on just fine.

But the truth sets us free (John 8.32). Truth makes a way for forgiveness and that is when light breaks in and dispels the darkness. It is in the silence that the confusion takes root, where the truth is buried, and the darkness prevails. 

I assured her I would not tell her story. Instead we would sit down, the three of us, and we would create a space to hear and be heard. Only then could freedom be found and relationship be restored. She agreed to this and I assured her I would be back. 

The next morning, as the Amazon sun peeked through the cotton clouds that promised rain for the afternoon, I walked back to her house with the other friend. I prayed for wisdom and healing as we walked into her home. 

We found her fiddling with the stereo system, trying to get a station to come in clearly, to no avail. She welcomed us in, though not making eye contact as we settled in on the sofas. With one friend directly across from me and her by my side, I took a deep breath. 

There was part of me that held on to the faith that understanding was possible. That when we sit down, face to face, with pure and humble hearts, there can in fact be restoration. Maybe it will take time take. Maybe it will hurt. But it can happen. 

The other part of me doubted after what I have experienced. We humans are messy. 

“Jesus, lead us.”

I began the conversation by reminding us all that we were there to hear. To listen and understand. “Quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger...” James tells us. A lesson hard learned.

As the discussion progressed, I saw it happening. Slowly but surely (and with some nudging still), the truth began to surface as the stories began to collide. 

This was understood one way, when it was intended that way. 

This was communicated that way, but it actually meant this. 

This was assumed based off of one thing, but that was never true to begin with. 

Light breaking through to reveal the truth that had been buried. 

As the light grew brighter, the darkness fled. It all culminated in tears, hugs, apologies, and forgiveness. There was finally understanding to a situation that had lasted well over a month now. One that had threatened to ruin a friendship of many years and one that very well would have if there had not been space to listen, humility to receive. 

I felt humbled and honored to have been witness to this moment of restoration. It took a lot of self-control, in fact, for me not to fist pump the air and shout, “See! I KNEW it! I knew that it could happen. It wasn’t just in my mind. Relationships CAN be made whole again!” Because how many times has the opposite been true? I’ve seen it in my extended family. I’ve witnessed it in my own relationships and in those of close friends.

Miscommunication. Misunderstanding. Assumptions. 

A heaviness that weighs us down. 

Oh, but God is faithful. He makes a path to restoration and it is never too late. This was proof.

I took the opportunity to read 1 Corinthians 13. 4-8 aloud. It is written across the walls of Grace House where these ladies spend their days and it has echoed in my mind ever since my own conflict a few months back. 

We need frequent reminders as we humans are forgetful. 

I read it slowly, letting it seep into our hearts.

“Love is patient, love is kind.

Love does not envy,

is not boastful, is not conceited, 

does not act improperly, 

is not selfish, is not provoked,

and does not keep a record of wrongs.....”

That last line. I get hung up there. “Does not keep a record of wrongs.” As I am reading this list of love’s attributes, this one stands out to me. How often do we say with our mouths we forgive someone, but our hearts say otherwise when we keep record? 

Praise God, He keeps no record!

And that was where this friend was struggling. She couldn’t understand the forgiveness and the love that she was feeling in that moment, the very things that were causing the tears to flow. She had never experienced it and she could not believe it was true. 

But it is true. Love lets it go, but even more than that, keeps no record. There is not a storage room full of dusty old books where all of our “wrongs committed” are written down to be used against us at a later date. It is as though it never happened. 

“Love finds no joy in unrighteousness 

but rejoices in truth. 

It bears ALL things, 

believes ALL things, 

hopes ALL things, 

endures ALL things. 

Love never ends.” 

The day before this conversation took place, we had gathered together with other friends at The Donut Company, something our jungle family does every Sunday evening, to re-center and re-focus. To hear from Jesus. Richard had shared John 13.35 with us all:

“By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” 

Love for one another.

That’s the distinguishing characteristic. Love as defined by 1 Corinthians 13. That is what sets us apart in this world. It is so simple. We make it so complicated, don't we?

It’s a love that forgives and remembers no more.  A love that endures all things. A love that is pure and patient and kind and it never, ever ends. 

It is a love that I observed shine brightly that day in that tiny home with the tin roof. 

This definition of love is my prayer for myself, my children, my husband, my family, my friends, my enemies, and total strangers who I meet in the day to day. It’s something I fail at regularly. I am often the one asking forgiveness, the one needing love extended. 

How thankful I am that God is Perfect Love (1 John 4.7-8). 

When we walked back from her house that day, it was as though a weight had been lifted from everyone’s shoulders. Restoration will do that. When a part of the Body is healed after an injury, the whole Body feels and experiences the joy of it. 

As it should. 

Pray for our jungle family. For understanding and ears to hear when conflicts arise, as they will. For endurance through the many trials that come. 

And for our love for one another to always prevail so that the world around us will know we are in fact His disciples. 

A Slave Set Free

I hopped off the back of the mototaxi and peeked my head in the door of Grace House to surprise her. She hugged me tight and kissed my neck, smiling that wide open smile that I remember from three years ago when I first met her. I hugged her right back and told her how good it was to see her.

And it really was so good. I watched her as she prepared the food for the kids that day and she worked ever so diligently. She thanked me over and over for the opportunity to be here, in this place, working. “The smiles of these kids keep me going every day. Thank you. Really, thank you.”

Life Off the Bandwagon

 As I watch from a distance the United States becoming a huge mess, I have very conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I long for God to open eyes so that we remain the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave.

But on the other hand, I simply wait and pray.  After all, it’s hard to see the Light when all seems day. 

So instead I pray for God’s true Church to come down as the darkness closes in. No more cheap grace and Gospel show. No more divide and conquer. 

The Spirit is far from our pretty buildings and well-coordinated programs and our endless checklists of do’s and don’ts.

We hop from bandwagon to bandwagon as they pass by with their Scripture-laden banners flying high, announcing what is right and wrong. All the while our feet never even touch the ground.

His Kingdom, Right Here {Part 2}

“Play it cool,” I thought, as I fumbled along the unfinished road with the dignified wife of the former Amazon Governor. She in her high-heels and me in my flip-flops plodding our way to the notary public just five minutes out from closing time.

“What in the world am I doooooing??” I thought to myself as I signed the papers for a one-year-lease on a massive leap of faith we had only brain-stormed and kitchen-tested up until this point.

“This is it. We have officially lost our minds.”

She handed me the key to our newly rented space with a dubious smile and I took it about as uncertain as Peter must have been those moments before his feet touched solid water.

What followed was a whirlwind of paperwork and fees and building and sweating and juggling timeframes and learning legal requirements and hiring and little sleep.

Then suddenly, there it was: The Donut Company. Exactly as Richard had sketched out on a piece of paper in the middle of the big empty white space was an incredible testament of God’s power and creativity. Truly a demonstration of His strength at work in us because I can say with certainty it was only by His provision and might that we went from Googling a recipe to opening an incredible, beautiful donut shop in a matter of four months.

Un.be.liev.a.ble.

But as exhausting and draining it was to build out a shop, to navigate the waters of employee rights and accounting requirements and legal jargon in your second language, to figure out where in the world to buy industrial kitchen equipment in the middle of the jungle, to figure out ingredients and schedules and suppliers and operate new machinery, and so on and on, the true challenge was yet to come.

Because the point in our shop wasn’t just to provide a few locals a job or to offer a tasty treat to native residents of this jungle town. Our main objective was much more than affording tourists a trendy escape on their Amazon expedition.

Our whole purpose is this: to love God and love others. In a town saturated with churches, we want a place for the unchurched.

It’s the opposite of what we feel naturally inclined to do. But we are firm believers that if you are surrounded by people who look, think, act, talk, and live exactly like you, you’re doing it all wrong.

Because we can shout all day long to a broken world that they are lost and going to Hell. But they are dead. And dead men, well, they have trouble hearing.

So the language we’ve been commissioned with speaking is Love. It’s this crazy, unorthodox, supernatural language.

Naturally, some people don’t like the way it sounds. They say it sounds like we’re hippies, condoning sin and living freely, everyone doing as they please.

I propose those people haven’t quite grasped what true love looks like. Because love requires a lot more dying to self and a lot less being right. It requires a lot of sacrifice with no promise to see the fruit. It requires massive amounts of humility and shows so much mercy and grace it’s painful at times.

Love is hard. It can be this strange conundrum of sharing a meal with someone who lives completely contrary to your convictions and laughing together over a surprise common ground. And it is those unexpected similarities that slowly break down the walls and lead to open doors and liberating conversations of how Jesus changed our world and opened our eyes when we were blind, too, and now we see so clearly that we are all just alike at our core—broken people in need of a Healer. Maybe our sins look different than theirs. Perhaps we don’t have the same struggles. Our backgrounds are different. Our cultures varied. But we are all the same. We all need Love.

And loving hurts. Often. When you give your life to the wounded, you’ll likely be bruised. People you pour your heart and soul into will walk away seemingly unchanged, resolute in their habits. We’ve cried a lot over relationships ended despite our best (though imperfect) efforts to love.  And we’ve been labeled a plethora of things for our open door approach. We’ve had to let employees go who just couldn’t accept graceful correction. We have had people we considered friends all but spit in our face when we stood firm on Love. Because sometimes loving means correcting and sometimes it means forgiving when it’s so hard to do and sometimes it means watching them walk away but still keeping the door open wide just in case they return.

Love bears all things. Believes all things. Hopes all things. Endures all things.

It never fails. 

Which requires time. It will take sacrifice. It will demand humility and forgiveness and sacrifice and dying daily.

But over time, if we’re patient, we may start to see little buds of fruit. When that atheist boy comes back to the shop again and again because “it’s just so different here”. When that girl who cuts herself sits down across from your employee who grew up fatherless, too, just to talk it out because “he’s the only one who will listen”. When that same employee says “tell me more about what it means to love others” because all he’s ever felt in the institutional church is “not good enough and condemnation” and he, too, wants to love others well. When those well-to-do clients are baffled that we would use the profits from the shop to love orphans in a neighboring town. When locals see us loving the homeless on the streets. When we take in refugees and fight for them. When we treat the nomadic hippies like actual human beings.

Suddenly it’s quiet here. Defenses start to fall. Hearts are softened. Ears are opened. And humility and grace finally get a platform to speak.

So to those who would never set foot in a building under a steeple? Come on in. Those who look different than they “should”? There’s no dresscode here. The crazy guy who everyone ignores? How’s a free donut a day sound? The prostitute working late? Welcome. The homosexuals, the fatherless, the lonely, the cutters, the agnostics, the atheists, the broken, the overachievers, the young families, the elderly couples, the enthusiastic teens, the Average Joe—this place is for you.

Because we love you. And we believe there is hope to be found for each and every one of us and that Hope is true Love and His name is Jesus. He’ll be the one to do the changing. Love will mark you in a way that you can’t help but share.

Jesus said, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.”

Fortunately, He loved freely. He didn’t require us to change first and He didn’t shout condemnation to the lost. He shouted grace and mercy, forgiveness and freedom.

He went on to say, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

He didn’t say they’d know because we had it right. He didn’t even say they’d know by how good we were. It’s love that they would hear first.

It looks a lot like sitting across the table and talking. It looks a lot like, “Welcome. How can we serve you?”

It looks a lot like the Kingdom of God, right here.

This is a multi-post series. See His Kingdom, Right Here {Part One} and {Part 3}.

{Don't} Be Careful

We recently invited a young hippie couple to live with us for an undefined period of time.

We met them randomly about two months ago when they were walking down the street to sell their artisans. Our friend and ministry partner saw them with their awesome instruments {and awesome hair!} and said it would be cool to hear them play some music. “Invite them in!” I said.

That led to donuts which led to a few dreadlocks for me and some friends which led to inviting them to our big Thanksgiving bash which led to us asking God to allow us more and more opportunities to speak Truth and Love into their lives which led to us finding out they’d be homeless mid-December which led to “I know exactly what you are up to here, God.... and that is {once again} taking things further than I expected which led to “We’d love to have you in our home... and yes, even your cat."

And I do not like cats.

So here we are and here they are and wow.

And you know what?

They’re really awesome people. We played Monopoly the other night and it was a blast. She can play the “melodica” like a beast and you should see the jewelry he makes. Our kids love them and invite them to play and we spent Christmas and New Years day together because we are all strangers in this jungle town and “we’re each other’s family this year”. We eat together and have had many conversations about life and living and God and Christ and what it means to love and forgive. We’ve shared our struggles {current and past} and we’ve laughed and had frustrations {like when their cat tried to kill our duckling...what is my life??}. He talked for two hours about God and being rejected by “the church” and we shared our stories and what community and the Body of Christ really looks like in the day to day.

Mostly, we don’t tell other Christians we have them in our home. Why? Because it’s the same response.

“Be careful.”

I don’t really know where this idea came from of “being careful”. I can’t seem to find it in Scripture. In fact, what I see in Scripture is the exact opposite. I see people doing crazy extreme things in the name of Christ. I see people living in community and opening their doors and their refrigerators and their closets and their hearts and saying, “There is Love here. And you are welcome here. Exactly as you are.”

But it’s uncomfortable to invite them in. We’d rather preach to them with our words at an outreach one day than with our lives in our own four walls in the every day. We don’t want to do life together. We want to change them. All the while forgetting that we were never—never EVER—called to change anyone. We were called to love. The Holy Spirit does the changing.

And for some reason we are afraid to love whole-heartedly, unconditionally, just as they are. It’s almost like we think it’s the weak thing to do. We need them to see that they are SINNERS! Going to Hell!

But we forget that they are DEAD in their sins. Dead men can’t see. So in our lame attempt to put glasses on them and hand them a Bible, we don’t notice that their hands and hearts are cold because there is no life in them. They CAN’T see no matter how hard we tell them to open their eyes. It’s going to take nothing less than the Holy Spirit giving them sight and giving them life.

Our role in it all is love. {Remember the two greatest commandments?} And here is what Scripture says love looks like:

Love is patient,

love is kind.

Love does not envy,

is not boastful,

is not conceited,

does not act improperly,

is not selfish,

is not provoked,

and does not keep a record of wrongs.

Love finds no joy in unrighteousness

but rejoices in the truth.

It bears all things, believes all things,

hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends.

It doesn’t say that love is safe or easy or careful or comfortable. It doesn’t describe it as something conditional or something that eventually runs out. It doesn’t say that love tells people what to do or points out all their flaws so that they can get better. Love goes against every human instinct we have because often it just. doesn’t. make. any. sense. y’all.

I know what you’re thinking...of COURSE there is wisdom to be had as well. Some would say it’s not wise to have people in your home like this. But I’d say those people are confusing wisdom with carefulness. (See James 3.17-18 for Biblical definition of wisdom... hint: it doesn’t say anything about being careful.) 

Carefulness says that when they smoke pot one rainy night in your backyard, that you kick them out and deem them untrustworthy. Wisdom says you let them know that is not ok here but that you love them and forgive them. Carefulness says that they may bring with them demonic activity so it’s best to protect your family from that. Wisdom says that you address their spiritualism with Love and Truth {knowing that He that is in you is greater}, covering your home and children in prayer, not fearing the enemy.

We are so very thankful for our community at The Common Thread that encourages us from afar in this journey. They speak Truth into our lives and set an example for unconditional love, self-sacrifice, and humility with open doors and pouring out and dreaming big. When we tell them things like us taking in a hippie couple, their response is, “We’re going to pray with you in this. Here is some of our experience in the past. Let us share with you some wisdom we’ve learned over time. What are their names so we can pray specifically? Keep us posted.”

Doesn’t that sound a lot more like a body of Christ followers, passionate for our neighbors, than, “Be careful!”

I think about it and I wonder what type of impact we would have as the Body if we truly died to our comforts and fears. Instead of seeing people as souls to be saved, we saw them as individuals to love. Jesus will do the saving. He promises He will in His time to those who believe. It’s just not our job {By the way, that was a good call. We can’t even get the basics down, much less save souls!}

If our lives looked more like Love and Hope and less like condemnation and judgment (like Jesus commands), we’d actually be really surprised at the rich relationships we build and the incredible opportunities He gives us to speak His name to people so different from us... and yet so, so much like us.

So let’s stop being “careful” and start loving people where they are, how they are, just like Christ loved us. Let’s bring them in and let them know that we are with them and Christ died for them and there is Hope and Truth in this world. That we were once lost and broken, too.

And let’s all be thankful that God wasn’t “careful” about loving us.

The Answer Was "Everything"

As she carefully climbed into the canoe, she felt the little baby squirming in her belly. It would not be long before she would meet this tiny person and everyone knew it. That is what prompted this last minute trip downriver to an unknown place filled with strangers.

All she brought with her were the clothes on her back, a few personal items, and a pet monkey--you know, the essentials. Gratefully, a few family members tagged along as well, otherwise it may have seemed like too much for her. After all she was practically a kid herself at sixteen years old.

Arriving at the |ndigenous Seminary site after a long day and a half on the river, she was met by staring eyes and whispers in languages she could not understand. They led her to the tiny room where she would sleep along with ten other people--and give birth to her first child.

When Richard met her, she had been there for a couple of days and it was very evident that she would be going into labor at any moment. He asked Lolo, one of the local pastors and a good friend, what her story was. Lolo explained that he had met her on his trip downriver to the Seminary just a few days prior. They lived just off the river, but far away from any medical facilities should something go wrong.  It made sense to bring her to the Seminary where they were closer to civilization, especially since this was her first baby. The family agreed and they made the journey, a little apprehensive since they would be the only ones from their tribe there.

As expected, just two days after Richard arrived, she went into labor. Initially the baby was breech so there was concern, but there was a midwife there who was able to turn the baby and the delivery went smoothly.

When Richard asked if there was anything she needed, the answer was, "Everything."

Let's take a moment to imagine what must have been going on in this girl's mind:

She is in a place she has never been with people she has never met surrounded by languages she does not speak about to give birth to a baby for the very first time in a small "box" of a room and she has absolutely nothing for this baby except some used towels that were cleaned in river water and dried by the sun. It is hot and humid. Bugs are biting. 

Personally, I cannot imagine what she was feeling. Some would say, "She is used to the heat and humidity and bugs and pain." I would argue, "They do not get used to it. They just learn to deal with it."

I had Raegan here in Brazil just a couple of months ago and I thought that was hard. 

I am a wimp, people. This girl is a beast! And she could be my little sister!

I digress...

After finding out her needs, Richard went to town and was able to purchase the basics: a blanket, diapers, wipes, vitamins, shampoo, and a few outfits. The total cost? About $120.

Most of us spend much more than that on baby clothing alone! This will likely be all that she has for a long time. In fact, she was reusing the disposable diapers by removing the cotton lining and using the outer plastic. I didn't even know that could be done....

This is just a glimpse into normal life for the |ndians. Two days later, this girl was down by the river washing clothes. There is no time to take it easy when you are basically surviving from one day to the next.

So what does this mean for us? How should this affect us as Believers? What can we do?

Those are the questions we asked and this is what we came up with:

We cannot take away the humidity and bugs. We cannot provide a comfortable, relaxing environment for all |ndians to give birth. We cannot insure that they will all have a midwife standing by in case something goes wrong.

But we can show as many as possible the love of Christ with our resources and prayers.

We are praying over starting a ministry for "Stork Baskets". These would be baskets filled with some of the "essentials" for a new baby and Mama:

-blankets
-clothing
-CLOTH diapers
-reusable wipes
-shampoo
-vitamins for Mama
-a small water purifier for Mama
-a snot-sucker (you know what I'm talking about... I don't know the technical name!)
-nail clippers
-etc., etc., etc.

The cost would be about $120.

Some of the items will be more practical to purchase in country, others could be donated.

The goal? 

Shower these women with the love of Christ by helping meet some of their basic needs.

This may not seem like a big deal to some, but for these women to see that complete and total strangers love them enough to give sacrificially on their behalf--it speaks VOLUMES. And what's more, it opens the door to sharing the motivation for our giving: the Love of Christ.

Will you pray over this with us? 

Will you share this with your Sunday School class and your Women's Ministry? 

Let's pretend these are our babies being born, and love them accordingly. 

"For it was You who created my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother's womb. I will praise You because I have been remarkably and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful, and I know this very well."

Psalm 139.13-14

Indian girl who gave birth to a precious baby girl at the Seminary. Her husband is to the right. 

From the Archives: God's Love Language

It's been interesting as we've traveled around the Southeast,  meeting people from every walk of life. Having been raised in a very conservative church my whole life, it was like culture shock for me when we stepped into our first Southern Baptist Church a couple of years ago. I wasn't accustomed to seeing blue jeans on the Pastor and a whole band on the platform, drums and all. It took me off guard when the Pastor opened his ESV to begin teaching the Word and we didn't sing the traditional hymns that I had heard all my life.

And the truth is, I loved it!

For me, it was like a breath of fresh air. Everyone seemed so at ease and connected. There was a certain passion in the room and an excitement about the Word. I loved the music and for what seemed like the first time I actually felt connected in worship. I felt at home and I was at least 600 miles from mine.

So what did this mean for me?

I have found myself with a lot of conflicting emotions over the last couple of years as I've met so many people that have enhanced my relationship with Christ. I've read books and heard sermons that have changed my worldview, broadened my mind, and opened my eyes to the fact that we serve a big... make that HUGE... God who doesn't fit inside the box that we've tried to fit him in.

In all of our travels I feel like my soul has been awakened, as cheesy as that may sound.

But what were the implications of this? Was the church that I was raised in not doing things right? Did the fact that they were hard-core KJV only, singing hymns from 1930, and it was suit and tie and dresses to church every service mean that they had somehow missed the mark? Or did the fact that I didn't feel connected with that atmosphere somehow imply that my heart was wrong for liking the contemporary worship songs and preferring pants over a skirt?

Fast forward to a month ago as we sit in the middle of the Jungle at an Indigenous church. The Pastor is speaking in two languages as he preaches from the front of a grass-roof hut. The people are all sitting on benches and the floor, though concrete, is covered in dirt. Women are breastfeeding with no regard for who is nearby and chickens and children are running all over the place. The music service is in the tribal language and the song leader and several women in the crowd are dancing.

I won't say this was culture shock for me, because a part of me felt right at home. But it was all new to me. Where I come from, dancing is off-limits and children are seen and not heard. If a woman needs to nurse, there is a special room designated for that and chickens are only seen on our plates after we go out for Sunday lunch.

Was this church getting it wrong too? After all, the pastor wasn't wearing a tie and he preached for an hour and a half straight... didn't he know that lunchtime is at noon? And was that the KJV version of their tribal Bible translation.........

So who was getting this right? Who was really glorifying God? Whose heart was really in the right place??

I think the answer is all of them. God was being and is being glorified in ways that we don't understand and it's all around us all the time.

God's love language is diversity.

He created the Indians in the Jungle who dance while they sing to the Almighty God. He created the 20-year-old who has a talent playing the drums and uses it to glorify his Savior. He created the 80-year-old man who wears his suit and tie in reverence to the creator of the Universe. He created the Pastor who wears jeans and the new mom nursing her infant and the mom who doesn't even own a pair of pants and young woman who hates skirts and the teenager who wears straight-legged jeans and dyes her hair pink and the little Indian who runs around naked and the man who sits in the back row because he's uncomfortable in social situations and the shut-in who faithfully listens over the airways and the music director who raises his hands in praise and the Indian lady who dances her traditional tribal dances and chants her tribal songs and the ex-drug addict who sits in the front row to soak in the Word that changed his life and the young married couple who got tattoos to commemorate the day that their lives were transformed by Christ and the missionary couple who gave up every earthly possession to follow Him and the business man who uses his wealth to further the Gospel and the stay at home mom who raises godly children and the Indian who fishes for his food every day and wears monkey teeth around his wrist and the elderly lady who weeps as she sings the hymns that have carried her through so many trials and.............................................

And the list goes on. And who are we to say that we have found God's true love language? Who are we to say that this worship music is right and this kind is wrong? And who are we to say that you have to dress this way or that?

Who are we?

I'm thankful to serve a God who not only loves diversity, He created it.

May we not be so closed-minded to think otherwise.



"...For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7


"...and with your blood you purchased men for God from every tribe and language and people and nation. You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God, and they will reign on the earth." Revelation 5:9-10