I could tell you a million things about Nicaragua. Its humidity, its food, its sunsets. The ruins of a cathedral from a natural catastrophe and a culture from years of violent human castrophe. But if you and I have been on this journey for awhile, you know these things.
You know we went to visit women who love God and seek the broken.
You know we came as strangers and left as sisters and friends.
So I will tell you the moment that wrecked my heart and caused me to pay attention.
I had mentioned in passing to a friend one afternoon that we should perhaps, get a prayer meeting together for the suffering in Iraq and the Ebola crisis in Africa. Here is where that came from in my heart: obligation. What kind of Christ follower am I really, if I'm not praying for the suffering? So let us, by all means, put on the show and do the stuff we do to show God we made an effort.
Sitting around a circle of poverty stricken, ex prostitutes one day later, prayer requests were being mentioned. Most women asked prayer for families, children, health issues, financial issues and then a sweet 60 year old woman said, let us pray for our brothers in Iraq and the suffering in Africa.
And I was devastated.
In my foolish pride, I think that God needs my help to get things done.
But instead, he chooses to use the prayer of an impoverished, older woman who used to sell her body. Because her prayer is powerful and effective, and her heart is righteous before him.
God does not need my help.
He loves and uses his people in every part of society. Every country. Every age and gender. If I am invited by him to be a part of it, then I am blessed beyond what I can comprehend.
Let me be low. Low before my fellow family in Christ and low before the one who calls my name and the names of those all over the world that belong to him. Let me be called to follow in the steps of the Lamb who emptied himself and became a servant. Let me be quiet before him.
Let me pay attention to what he's doing.
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