When God Speaks and You Have To Listen

He told me to stay there. In the quiet. In the dark. Many days before flying across the nation.

But I wrestled. Didn’t want to hear Him.

I struggled like a child wanting to clothe myself in designer jeans to impress the other children at school.

“But you will find me there.” 

The impression was so strong, I knew I had to choose.

A five star hotel, or bunking with the parent-less children at some foster home, in China?

“Special needs”. I can’t say I was comfortable.

Nice cars and dinner…so much more so, adaptable.

But, He reminded me in the quiet. In the dark before going…

“Where do you think you will find me? With orphans? Or among the elite filled with self-righteousness?”

And I knew it was less about where I was staying, and more about my willingness to get low and let my heart be captivated by what captivated His…

It was less about elite hotel’s, fancy dinners, and entertainment…

And more about associating with the weak and helpless. Being drawn to the broken, capturing His heart for the hurt and helpless.

So, I went. 

My husband and I navigated the subways and taxis alone, in China. We took the bullet train, and made our way to a city filled with working people…

Passing ladies cleaning the dirt with handmade brooms, women gathering fruit, men chatting in the streets….just like in any other place on this earth…

Except that this was China.

And I wondered…Would I miss having internet? Have a hard time sleeping in a place that didn’t have fine dining, soft carpets, room service?

I turned inside like a spoiled child. Had no idea what was coming as we pulled up inside this children’s home, iron gates protecting valuable treasures inside.

But then, I see the faces, fully alive. Meet the man who gave up his education to care for the children in China.

I ask his wife what she likes most. She says, “Connecting orphans and forever families”. And the roots of my heart unravel around this place…

The glory of His face shines brighter than a thousand American church steeples.

Then, night comes.

The fragile ones worship with a voice much louder than a thousand angels.

My soul wants to get up and dance.

I remark how their worship is more beautiful than a mega church of a thousand plastic families.

And then, he picks the song. The one I heard at a church in Southern China. Something chugs and turns, and spins low deep inside me.

I recall the girls inside the church down south, who sang with passion.

I see a list of over five hundred songs, but find it remarkable that this is the one that’s chosen.

My heart turns back to three years ago. My first time in China.

Past and present greet me like a stark reminder that God is in this journey, and we have a choice about how we will fill the empty pages of our lives. 

Revelation from these paralyzed children sing out. More heartfelt worship than from the most elite sanctuaries I’ve found.

I climb the staircase to my room that night. Not a suite. No five star luxuries, or fancy commodities…

But, it’s the home of this couple who has shown us what servant-hood looks like. It’s the place where lives, hopes and dreams…degrees have been discarded to care for needy children…

Families are made, not by blood, but out of the common denominator, Jesus.

It’s 4:00 a.m. I rise. Wide awake. My husband too. We don’t know what it is. I grab my Bible. His Spirit over-takes me.

Tears flood me with the realization of what it means to not just talk, but truly make ones life the gospel.

While in America, it’s common we hear about dreams and enthusiasm, people’s hopes and personal agendas. There is apathy and complacency and a lot of talk about faith and what religion is…

But here, people’s testimonies are their witnesses. Sacrifices are made. People’s messages have fruit. There is visible, tangible evidence of people’s belief systems.

True faith is seen and not just heard.

Here, His hope is made visible, clear.

His purposes found in Bible studies with girls, playing with children with fragile bones, giving skills to those who need to make their own way soon.

And there is advocacy, bread breaking, slow patience, and requests for Doritos to make life just a little bit easier.

A mother’s heart is seen by guidance and wisdom. A Father’s laugh, humor caught…just at the right time…like a loving, patient Shepherd.

Words are spoken with life…not timidity and fear.

And I realize my gift in coming here….to humble my heart by the witness of these works.

Tears stream. For hours I cry and keep repenting before the sun even awakens.

I finally come down for devotions, where we open the Bible randomly, and scripture fills my heart like an ocean on barren ground…

• “Repent (think differently, change your mind, regretting your sins and changing your conduct) for the Kingdom of Heaven is at Hand.” ~ Matt 3:2
• “Bring fruit that is consistent with repentance.” ~ Matt 3:8
• Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘we are entitled’. ~ Matt 3:9
• “Where you treasure is, there your heart is.” ~ Matt 6:21
• “No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will stand by and be devoted to the one and despise and be against the other. You cannot serve God and mammon (deceitful riches, money, possessions, or whatever we trust in).” ~  Matt 6:24

I hadn’t planned those verses when I opened my Bible randomly. But God was speaking…

Not in some five star hotel. Not in the luxury of my comfort zone in America…

But here, in an older orphanage in China.

And it was impossible not to hear Him.

 

(Linking with Barbie)