I am sitting here, crying, because I miss the sound of their angelic voices lifting up His name. Sometimes after missions trips, the shock and heaviness of being back in the States is gradual. Yet sometimes, the pain hits all at once.
I woke up today with a longing in my chest, and their laugher in my ears. I do not miss Kenya necessarily, I miss their joy and unrelenting faith in Jesus. I miss the way God was so present in every aspect of creation in that beautiful place. I miss the way my own walk with Jesus was refined and purified while I had the privilege of visiting Africa.
Why do we Americans settle for so much same? So often, we have become poster children for bland Christianity, with an incessant doubt of God’s faithfulness. How come the most impoverished continent is so spiritually rich, and AMERICA is so unbelievably dead for Jesus?
It hurts my heart. I’m praying for change, for fire to ignite my heart, as well as the hears of believers in this country. I am so tired of giving Jesus second best. Aren’t you?