Pretty much daily Gwen answers comments that are in reality questions. I think its time I answered some of them publicly myself, so that Gwen doesn’t have to keep explaining things like my “faith doctrine” to total strangers.
Since I am still potty training (currently nap time…) AND I am pretty certain I have Ecoli, I have a bit of free time on my hands
“What is your faith doctrine?”
I think this is a pretty strange question. I KNOW that it is not a question Jesus would have asked anyone before serving or loving or communicating with them. I am also saddened to think that my LOVE FOR JESUS may not be so apparent in my writing that it answers that question automatically. But here it is for those still asking: Jesus wrecked my life. All my life, I had everything this world says is important. In high school I was class president, homecoming queen, top of my class. I dated cute boys and drove a cute car. I had supportive parents who so desired my success that they would pay for me to go to college anywhere my heart desired. BUT, I loved Jesus. Jesus says to Nicodemus that in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, one must be born again. Check. Jesus says to another guy that in order to enter the kingdom of Heaven one must sell everything they have a give it to the poor and then COME, follow Him. Oh… I realized that I had loved and admired and worshipped Jesus without doing what He did. So I quit my life. Originally it was to be temporary, just a year before I went back to normal Brentwood life and college. It wasn’t possible. I had seen what life was about and I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know. So I quit my life again, but for good this time. I quit college, I quit my cute designer and my little yellow convertible, I quit my boyfriend. I no longer have everything that the world says is important. BUT, I have everything that I know is important. I have never been happier, and I have never been closer to the Lover of my Soul and my Savior. JESUS wrecked my life, shattered it to put it back together more beautifully. I am in LOVE with Him. Period.
“What made you decide to be a missionary? Do you like being a missionary?”
I think that missionary is a funny word. I think that if you declare yourself a Christian, you MUST also be a missionary, your mission to live and to love like Christ, to share Christ with others. My walk with the Lord and my life should not seem so unusual that it has to have a special label. I’m just a mom. I just strive to live and to love people like Christ. The people just happen to be brown and poorer than you. It’s not a special mission, It’s everyone’s mission. I do not deserve a title, and if you are going to give me one, I prefer “Lover of Jesus.” And yes, I like it.
I am more afraid of America. Matthew 10:28 tells us not to fear things that can destroy the body but to fear things that can destroy the soul. I can literally feel my soul suffocating in the safety of Brentwood and all it’s numbness, complacency and comfort. Scary.
C.S. Lewis puts it this way:
“I shall feel rather nervous meeting a lion,” said Susan.
“That you will, dearie, and make no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver, “if there is anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking they’re either braver than most or just silly.”
“Then He isn’t safe?” said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “Who said anything about safe?! Of Course He isn’t safe. But He is good. He is the King I tell you.”
(The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe)
“Is it responsible to adopt so many children?”
Is it responsible to let them starve in the streets?
“What are you going to do next/with your home/with your children/with your ministry/in five years/when you are older/ect?”
I am not concerned with what I am going to do. I am interested only in what I am becoming. Each day, I am hoping to become more like the One who created me.
There is an old Franciscan saying, “Preach the Gospel. And when necessary, use words.” So I am going to quit this silly preaching with words and go make dinner for my precious ones. Your questions are welcome.