Honest Glimpses

Have you heard of Katie? That girl in Africa who has adopted 13 girls? I’ve come across her story several times and am always fascinated to read about her life and testimony.  She wrote a book called Kisses From Katie and she is a remarkable young lady with a passion for Christ and the poor. Sometimes when I read her story, I become green with envy. I want her life. I want those girls. I’d like to live in a culture of warmth and light and open arms. A place where a 24 year old can adopt a dozen girls, and fill her life with ministry to the orphans. The deepest part of my soul longs to care for the orphan, the oppressed, the needy. I want to gather them in my arms, take them into my home and love them forever.

But I don’t live there. Don't get me wrong, I love where God has placed me. I love my country. I love the people here. But it is not always a place of light and warmth. It is unspeakably precious to me, only because I view it through the lens of God’s grace and calling. Honestly, I am criticized, condemned and subtly corrected more often than I am affirmed for reaching out to the most needy. I am often disabled by the prejudice and classism around me. It is a hard road.  An endless and often losing battle for truth, righteousness and compassion. The most hurting are often out of my reach. The people I desire to serve sometimes don’t want to be served. The reach of the gospel is slow. Roadblocks abound. The fruit of ministry is often minuscule and just barely obvious enough to help me persevere. After two and a half years I am still no closer to determining how I can bring abandoned children into my home. It seems just as impossible for a single American woman, living far below the American poverty line, to adopt one Indian child, let alone 13.  

With equal parts inspiration and discouragement, I read about Katie, a girl several years my junior, who has accomplished so much more than I have in ministry. In many ways she is doing what I long to do. It can feel like a failure when I compare myself to people like her. But God didn't give me her life or anyone else’s. He gave me mine. And it is never a failure to follow God where he leads us, even if it is the harder road, the less rewarding path, the more tedious life. I know there are those who probably feel envious of where I live and how I am privileged to serve. Most days I do feel ridiculously blessed. I know how absurd it is to complain, even for one moment, when God has given me a life of fruitful service for his kingdom and glory. These brief moments of envy fade quickly as I am convicted once again not to define success by my own standards but by His.

Victory and success are not based on my accomplishments, my righteousness, or my good deeds. True victory is this, that I am ‘found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness that depends on faith.’ (Philippians 3:9)