Father, this morning I look out of the window at cold, gray Scotland, but instead of tarmac I see a dusty yellow road; instead of brick houses I see little huts slapped together with any material available...wood, pieces of cloth, tarps; instead of a woman with a dog and a cigarette I see a man with a rusty bicycle piled high with things he's trying to sell to earn just a little money to feed his family. And I want to be there. Maybe that isn't exactly how it is but I want to be there.
But I don't know who's desire that is...
I like the idea of walking around bustling markets in flipflops, getting to know the language, the culture, learning to blend in with the people.
I know its okay to like that, but I also feel that it might be stronger than my desire to love and serve the people there. Though I do want to want to have a great love for them, and I want to want to serve them.
Lord, search my heart, know my anxieties, see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. (ps139:23,24)
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