it's different when you sleep there.

and that's the truth. before i could come and go, but now i'm here and here i stay. it hasn't even been a full week yet and i feel a bit of tension....this is what it means to die to self. just let go of all of my own desires and wishes and let him do his thing. follow.

i'm hoping that soon i'll have a lot to write about my experiences here. this week begins a year of ministry in the inner city. this week begins a new chapter of my life. i don't really know what all that means (and it's good not to know, i've decided).

i miss africa. and mexico. i want to know where i'm going. mali? kameroon? mozambique? atlacomulco?

please, please, please show me. please.

p.s. - THIS made my day:


mr. watson is in good hands now. and i have a picture to prove it. thanks, jared :)




africa, i miss you. my heart longs for you. bring me back.

yep.

give me your eyes for just one second
give me your eyes so i can see
everything that i keep missing
give me your love for humanity
give me your arms for the broken hearted
the ones that are far beyond my reach
give me your heart for the ones forgotten
give me your eyes so i can see

this one is for you, but you know that.

say anything. 

this is safe.

the only other who will see you this way

did before the thoughts even became. 

this one, divinity who stooped to be a man

yes, i ask him every day to stoop again 

and change things. and he is.

invisibly to you, though he will place

his hands on your eyes soon and give you grace

to see it too. 

don't give up. he won't give up on you. 

p.s. - thanks for inspiration. i'm writing again, because of you. 

misunderstandings.

i'm talking in a language you don't speak

and maybe i'm too soft but i believe

anyone would feel this way right now

go ahead, pretend that you don't know

say i've built walls but i promise yours are higher

honey you're just preaching to the choir

no one asked you to start the demolition

you're bulldozing by your own volition

tender ones need gentle urging but

you want to fix the scar by making cuts 

there

is so much to say, yet i do not have the words to adequately express.

the song "you found me" by the fray really makes me think about my homeless friends downtown. don't know why.



i found God on the corner of 1st and amistad
where the west was all but won
all alone, smoking his last cigarette
i said, "where ya been?" and he said, "ask anything."

lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
why'd you have to wait? where were you? where were you?
just a little late, you found me, you found me.....

why'd you have to wait to find me, to find me

amy carmichael wrote....

have you no wound? 

no wound? no scar? 

yes, as the Master shall the servant be,

and pierced are the feet that follow Me,

yet yours are whole. 

can she have followed far -- who has no wound? no scar?

s.o.s.

i know that you said
when i am weak you're strong
but i'm so tired of being weak
i know that you said
when i mourn you will comfort
but i'm ready to dance again