Clean hands, dirty heart

I often say I want to go to Africa on a missions trip. My heart for orphans is a broken one.

I like to think of myself walking around hugging and holding precious children, feeding them and singing to them.

Mama.

Tonight I sat in my Bible study party and stared over at a homeless girl that my friend had brought along; she picked her up from the shelter a little earlier that day.

By the evenings end I had watched her cry several times over her children being taken away. I know what desperation looks like. She was desperate.

It was 11 pm and there we sat opening up our hearts and sharing our testimony with her.

I finally get it. I love Jesus. I know that each day I grow closer to Him. But I never got it until tonight.

You see, I had several thoughts tonight as we sat sharing a meal.

One of them being... "what if she has some type of infection or communicable disease and we are eating after one another."

I am ashamed of that thought.

I sat there crying with her some time later and holding her hand. In those few moments, Jesus spoke right to my heart.

Beloved, do not fear what can kill the body...only the soul.

I had so many revelations in that.

Did I think that I could go to Africa and pick up a child from a place that wasn't infested with disease and maggots?

Can I show the love of Christ without getting my hands dirty?

Can I tell Ashley that Jesus loves her and lives in me without embracing every bit of her?

And then it came over me like a rush of wind. Jealousy.

I was jealous of her. Jesus came for her. The dirty, broken, suffering, and infected.

And if He came today I would just be a part of the crowd

 and He would pass me by.

It only takes a little pride to become a Pharisee.

After we prayed Ashley asked for a minute to thank the Lord for the blessing of us ladies there praying and leading her to Christ.

We were not the blessing in that room.

If you are in the Clarksville area and would like to help others like Ashley, click here.

Please keep Ashley in your prayers, and me too.

Love,
 Erica