Faith, Hope, and Love

I've started to think about them often-- Beatrice and Scovia . They are the two Esther Home Girls that are sponsored through IF: Gathering and who I'll get to meet when I'm in Rwanda in July . I don't remember if I gave to the campaign that allowed their dreams to go to college possible, and so I've browsed through the small profiles/update we've been given , hoping to come up with gifts that can bring with me. Maybe a scarf? Or a set of my favorite colored pens? Maybe those things would be too small, too trivial? I don't know. And then I hear insecurity whisper: Maybe everything you have to offer will be too small, too trivial. Not just to the girls, but on the whole trip. And I tremble with fear. By nature, I am a pretty cautious person. I don't like to take risks, and any adventures I embark on are generally strongly vetted (or are only adventures because I finally decided to actually step outside  my home). But God has been nudging me...

I fear that I am not a good enough witness for Christ. I fear I am silent when I should speak. That I don't make the most of every opportunity to share His love and His truth. In some ways, I am proud of the strides I've made. In the last two years, starting with that first trip to Haiti, I've grown bolder in my faith. I feel more and more unashamed. I no longer shy away from speaking up about God's faithfulness and goodness in my life. But is that enough? Am I actively running the race God has called me to? 

I haven't been to church in what feels like, and probably is,  months . I just got tired of church hopping. After living in Houston for almost a year, I had been to at least eight different churches. And while there were a few churches I went to for weeks at a time, I hated the awkward, out-of-place feeling I had while there. I just wanted the whole thing to be over with. I just wanted to belong somewhere. And then one Sunday, there was an excuse not to go visit a new church or go to an old one. Can't remember what it was. But oh, what a slippery slope that became. Suddenly there was an excuse for every Sunday. I was out of town. I didn't feel well. I was going to be late. And then the day came when I decided, why bother until I know where I'm going to live next? I was ready to put an end to the church hopping routine and settle down, but I couldn't do that until I was settled, right? If my dad ever reads this, I know he'll be appalled. As would probably my...