Read how witnessing these stories painted for Juli a picture of faith, family, and God's good plan for us.
I love words. No, really—I seriously love them. They are my medium of choice, my paintbrush, if you will. Sometimes though, I have a terribly difficult time finding just what to say. This is when I know God must be up to something extra good. You know, the kind of something we can’t begin to explain because it’s way bigger than us.
This is how I’ve felt in Armenia these past few days—like God’s really treating me with the good stuff. The stuff I’m usually too busy to notice, too over scheduled to see.
In the past few days, I’ve been privileged to meet some of the strongest, happiest, most beautiful people on the planet. No, they aren’t celebrities who have acquired fame and possessions, nor are they business owners who have millions to their name. They are some of the most overlooked, struggling to get by, heroes of the world. Fathers, working dusk till dawn for little to nothing. Mothers, who are doing everything they can to keep homes clean and little bellies full. Children, who are simply longing to be children, longing to be loved.
As we sat and talked, I couldn’t help but realize how much we all had in common. Sure, they live in tiny, broken-down homes and spend their lives trying to put bread on the table, but I couldn’t help but see a little bit of me when I looked into their eyes. Humanity became our unity. I don’t know what it’s like to live in freezing temperatures without enough money to buy shoes for my children, but I do know what it’s like to feel stuck in a situation, powerless to get out. This is our common ground. We have all been stuck.
There is one major difference I have noticed between my new friends and I, though. When times get tough, they don’t complain or fret, they trust in the Lord and cling to their faith. They are unwavering. They’ve seen Him provide time and time again, and they hold fast to the promise that He will always come through. I wish I could say that was my default reaction to tough situations. Mine usually includes my own makeshift “solutions”—these ultimately leave me more confused, stressed out, and panicked.
I never saw this kind of restlessness from these families. Not even once. To me, this was a picture of faith, the kind that moves mountains. Sometimes, mountains look like finding funds for bills or bread, and other times, like in my case, the mountains that need to be thrown down are our own self-reliance.
Today, I’m thankful for the families who have reminded me that it’s okay to not know it all. It’s okay to not have the words to say. It’s okay to not be okay. God’s got your back whether or not you feel like you have your life perfectly put together. He’s bigger than any situation you may face. He’s closer than your next breath. Faith isn’t something we see, it’s simply the act of trusting the One who already sees it all.
Let me assure you this: His plans are better than anything we could ever imagine.
Love and Hugs,
Be God's instrument of provision for Armenian families in need. Consider sponsoring a child in Armenia today!
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See what the other members of our blogging team are writing about Armenia:
Addie Zierman: "You Don't Have To Care About Everything"
Amy Bellgardt: "Zhanna Exists"
Anna Whiston-Donaldson: "Midpoint"
Benjamin L. Corey: "The Gospel Isn't About Escaping This World, It's About Transforming It"
Jarrid Wilson: "The Problem with a Breadless Gospel"
Matthew Paul Turner: "Yesterday, I met some of the most vulnerable people in the world"
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