I think that we have it all wrong. I think that we need to stop and smell the roses of God's mercy for a little longer than we do. I think that we spend too much time on the little, insignificant things in life and not enough time on the One that matters.

 
Like, today… I'm readying my house for some really cute people to come over and carve pumpkins with Patrick and I. I spilled my soda, broke my favorite travel soda cup, and just started fretting over it all. Nothing like crying over spilt soda on a rainy, fall day. Seriously. Don't try it. It's pathetic…

What if we just stopped buying things that don't matter? What if we stopped worrying about things that we have no authority to worry about? What if we stopped to smell the roses of God's mercy and grace every day? Would our lives look different? Would we be more like Jesus.

I'm supposed to be content in Jesus Christ (don't mistake this for being content with my current state of spiritual growth. Until heaven, I will never be content with where I am). I'm supposed to embrace what He's given me. But, I feel so unworthy. I feel so… so… rich. In regards to America's standards… I'm probably not. I mean, Patrick and I are fine. We have food, clothes, and electricity. We have running water and two cars and heat. We have a bed and some furniture and even bathroom (can you believe that?). That's enough… right?

Then I think of other people. Broken. Hurting. Cold. Lonely. Unclothed. Starving. Lost. And, I realize that no… that's not enough… it's more than enough.

I don't know. Maybe it's because I've been reading Katie's book, and I'm ready to pack my clothes and walk to the ends of the earth just to get a little taste of ministering the way she does. But, really… I don't have to sit every night and pray for food to appear on my doorstep or for money to pay off bills that I owe or for clothing to clothe anyone in my family. I have all that. I don't even have to ask.

But, if I needed that all… would it be okay with me? If I was placed in real danger and persecution, would it be okay with me? Would I be disappointed? Would I be faithful?

I think of my current disappointments in life and most of them are silly, pathetic, and, well, completely stupid. I think I might have one that is actually "worthy" of being called a disappointment.

I'm not a "wallow-er". I'm not. I don't really like pity from others… although, I like giving it for valid reasons. I don't like crying. I don't make a habit out of being perpetually sad. But, today, for 15 minutes, I wallowed in pity at the broken cup and soda scattered on my kitchen floor.

Silly.

If I didn't have nice things to break or nice things to sit on my shelves or nice things to decorate all the walls in my house, would it be okay? Would I lack joy?

I want to say no. I want to say that I would live in a Dominican sugar cane village, or a hut in Africa, or somewhere in a remote part of the world that doesn't even have any bathrooms (maybe a jungle or some village in Nepal?). And, I want to say I would live all those places with JOY in my heart.

Truth is… if I cry over spilt soda or unworthy "disappointments," it would probably be hard to live in those places.

But... I'd still try if God called me there. Want to know why?

I think that I'd be closer to Jesus' heart. I think I would fill my time up with more Jesus and less stuff. And, I think that I'd know what real joy is. I think, currently, I only have a small glimpse of what that is. I think I would experience life in a more colorful way. I think I would know God's Word from front to back. I think I would sit still longer and listen longer. I think I would know Him better. I think I would disappear quicker so Jesus could take my place a little faster.

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I'm here. Not in a village or orphanage or different country. I'm in my living room thinking about all this and about why my feet are cold. I mean, I guess they're not really cold, because I live in a house with heat and all sorts of remedies for cold feet. There are people in Russia whose toes are way way way colder than mine. So, in my little, warm, weather resistant house, I'm here. Jesus is too. I just have to look for Him differently than I would if I was lacking all these nice things.

Maybe there's a village around my corner? Maybe it's not a sugar cane village or African village made up of huts. But, maybe… maybe God has a village that He's asked me to live in.

I think He has one for all of us.

I think mine is the village of "finding joy amidst all of the distractions of American life, even though it seems like you're ridiculously spoiled."

What's yours?

If Katie can find joy in Uganda… I can find it here. For, it is not withheld from me, no matter where I am.