There's this thing I pray, something I've said so many times that it's almost more habit than heart. God, teach me to love what you love and to hate what you hate.
I've prayed it for years, and honestly, as I've wrestled with habitual sins, selfish attitudes, and a rebellious spirit, I've often wondered whether it was a waste of breath. Maybe I was just not capable of developing a heart that truly craved the things that God loves.
This year started out messy.
On January 1, I helped some of my dearest friends pack up their home to move away. They were following God's call on their lives, and rarely has an occasion been so truly bitter and sweet for me.
Two and a half months later, in March, Commons Church held it's final worship service. The number one thing I'd poured myself into for a majority of the previous three years was over. I still don't have the right words to articulate that loss, and as much as I want to be, I'm not finished grieving it either.
Then, in April, an innocent enough text message turned my world inside out again. "Soo...I may have accidentally got you roped into potentially becoming a foster parent ..." Claire had no idea I'd been praying for wisdom about what to do with the growing desire in me to foster. Two weeks later, I was in my first (of many) pre-service training class for International Foster Care. That led to many other things, including working toward becoming a homeowner and incorporating Mariposa House Ministries.
Finally, in May, I was asked if I'd be willing to go with part of Cornerstone's reentry team into Tarrant County Jail and talk to inmates about the value of mentoring and the importance of truly allowing themselves to be mentored.
It's August now. My savings toward a down payment on a home is growing. I am four hours away from completing 40 hours of pre-service foster care training. Mariposa House Ministries, Inc is registered with the state and soon to be registered with the federal government, too. And, I'm one ID badge away from going to jail.
As I sat in a jail orientation meeting on Saturday morning, I couldn't help but think, "What in the WORLD have I gotten myself into? I don't want to go to jail! This is crazy." I love ex-cons, trust me. I'm great with them on this side of jail. I love it when they come to CWJC or I get to visit with them in the waiting area of our Welcome Center at Cornerstone. I get so excited when God opens doors and gives them a second chance at life. But go? To jail? Then, Chaplain Barrett began to quote Matthew 25, For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
And, he just had to add, "PRISON MINISTRY IS ONE OF A HANDFUL OF THINGS ABOUT WHICH JESUS SAYS, 'I TAKE THIS PERSONALLY.'" I literally sat up at that. Put my feet on the floor, straightened my back, and leaned forward. And, slowly, the beginnings of excitement for this new task began to push the apprehension back a bit.
This morning, as I dutifully prayed, "God, teach me to love what you love ..." I had one of those epiphany moments as He whispered over me, "I am, child. I am." You see, He loves orphans and prisoners! And, guess what I'm learning to do? Love orphans and prisoners! He's teaching me. He's turning my world upside down and inside out for them. He's stretching me far beyond my natural reach with the supernatural power of His Spirit. He's answering my prayer.
There's still five months left in this year, and I've been wondering all along what exactly I'll remember about 2013. Will I remember how much it hurt in the beginning? Will I remember how many tears I cried in front of others because my grief was too big to hide? Will I remember how I struggled to find a new church home? How I constantly battled fears of inadequacy and failure as I launched into dreams far too big for me?
But, maybe, just maybe ... I'll remember 2013 as the year God answered my prayer and taught me to love what He loves.
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