Underground Children

Tonight I watched a documentary called Underground Children before I went to bed.  It was a very bad idea. I do not recommend it because it is 12:30 am and I can't sleep. 

My heart has been crying out to God.  Where are you in this?  These people have no hope, never even been given a chance.  Broken from birth. 

I've been thinking about going back to Nica this week too.  Although I know that there has to be an ending to the current situation my heart cries out against leaving those women and girls.  Allowing the only place of refuge to fail.  I can't speak Romanian, but I can speak Spanish.  I can't help or heal the broken in Romania, but I can do something about what has been given to me. 

And so, God.  Where are you in this?  In this week?  Bend me, break me, make me into what you require.  I want to do your will. 

I have been going into this with self righteousness and pride over wrongs that have been done.  I have wanted righteous retribution. 

I went into teaching last week in Crash with a prideful attitude too.  Thought I had it together.  Teaching had come naturally and been easy up to this point.  So I got up there and promptly forgot every last thing I wanted to say.  I sputtered for 8 really god awful long minutes and then threw to Andy as soon as possible. 

And it occured to me afterward that perhaps the confidence I need most when teaching is not confidence in my abilities, but confidence that comes from obeying what God has told me to do. 

Confidence through obedience.  Based not on the circumstances or talents within and around me, but based on the character of God and what he has required of me. 

And I think that is exactly where God is taking my heart for this coming week.  Confidence through obedience.  Wherever he leads me.  Whatever he says to do.  In every circumstance. 

Randomly, I've also been thinking this week about artists and mediums.  Is the artist defined by the medium?  Or does the artist do the defining no matter what the medium is?

I believe a real artist is an artist whether you give them a lump of clay or a camera or a paintbrush. 

The art comes from within.  The medium becomes what the artist bends his will to make it be.  And the real artist will have to create and not be satisfied till something expressive and lovely is born. 

God is not done.  He is still creating his will.  The medium might be changing, but the heart of the Artist is not.  I will trust His hand and dwell in confidence. 

See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
    and streams in the wasteland.