broken-hearted hallelujahs

I'll never forget a sermon on communion that I heard while in school at Southeastern University. Pastor Sam Hemby taught on "What Jesus Always does with Bread" and it changed me. My way of thinking. Without fail, when Jesus took up bread, he "took it. blessed it. broke it. and gave it.". And Pastor Sam told us to be looking for this pattern in our lives. We, too, are taken, blessed, broken...and given.

I'm thankful that brokenness always has a purpose.

If not, this season would be so discouraging. But the seed of brokenness gives way to a harvest of giving. Any time we seem to be shattered, God is simply creating space to give of Himself through us. And I'm finding that my greatest offering to Him is my broken-hearted hallelujah. The song I sing to Him, blessing Him, just for loving me. That if my situation never changes. If my hopes never become reality. If what I used to see when I scanned the horizon doesn't reappear. He is my more-than-enough God. And what a gift it is to be taken, blessed...Broken...and given. What a privilege to have anything worth giving.

This morning as I listened to our missionary guest, my heart was stirring within me. I was so glad! Though missions giving is part of my life already, I've been really anticipating what project would catch my breath and compel me. I didn't expect this one. And I didn't expect it to be so personal...

Our guest was describing Mission of Mercy and the children (40,600 of them) that they care for. Their desperate situations - poverty, sickness, loneliness. Things that always cause us to wince and survey our lives with new grateful eyes. And I felt prompted, "I would love to sponsor one of these precious kids..."

Then, the speaker gave the typical, "for just 34$ a month...". And my heart sank. "Jesus, I don't have the money. I mean, I'm only meeting my current commitments by your supernatural provision."

"That's right," I felt His gentle response, "so what does another 34$ matter?" A grin spread across my face and I held in a hearty laugh. "You're right. Absolutely right, Lord."

And then - it got more personal.

See, hope is a tricky thing. And dreams, well, they're even more evasive. On the horizon of my life I used to look out and see family, my "one day" family. A relentlessly hilarious, and desperately aggravating, husband. Children who take my breath away daily. Us doing life. Together. But now, when I scan the horizon, I'm not so sure. Now, I see shadows which seem vague and undefined.

And, I evaluate the dream, "Jesus, is this really in your plan for my life? Or...my plan for my life?..."

I release the dream and fully embrace His plan for my "now". Knowing that, if this hope is part of His plan for me, it will be returned to me in perfect timing. I ponder...Maybe the times are too urgent. Maybe there is too much to be done for Him. Maybe the situation in our world is too desperate for my focus to be divided. Maybe time cannot afford for me to live out that part of life. Maybe, I will not be married. Maybe...I will not have children. I soak in His peace - what He has shall be.

And this morning, the Lord whispered to my heart, as compassionately as always, "You no longer need to wait. You are already a spiritual mother. Give care to those I have placed near you. I've given you the opportunity to mother some you may never even meet."

I am broken.

So I give. I worship. I serve. I sing broken-hearted hallelujahs that seem to please His ear even more than songs of triumphant praise. I whisper, "I love you" out of desperate moments of heartache. And smile widely because I feel His pleasure in my offerings. His great and overwhelming pleasure with my simple giving of just me.

Shailesh is my new kid. He's 10 years old and lives in India. (I was hoping he'd be from India - I secretly want to go there someday.) He and I, we both count on Jesus for daily bread. And I'm so grateful to be part of providing his.

He's the newest part of this hallelujah chorus God is writing in my life...