Overwhelmed

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I’ve been reading the stories of these women in Southeast Asia, and I’ve been looking at the pictures, taking in their beautiful faces and sitting in awe of their bravery. I’ve experienced the full range of emotions — anger that the world is so unjust, excitement that my sisters in Christ all the way across the world are gathering and learning and teaching, amazement that the Lord is providing in such miraculous ways, gratefulness that we are living in such a connected age. Perhaps the biggest thing I’ve felt, however, is overwhelmed. I am just one, and there is so much to be done. I could tell stories and write words forever and ever and not feel that I’ve done enough.

I came to the Lord prayerfully, feeling the weakness and the inadequacy in my bones, and I asked, “What can I do?” I know we can use our voices and our resources, but I felt very small against the oppression; against the great, great need. And the Lord answered, “Do this. Pray and seek. I will move on the hearts of my people when they are open to moving on my behalf.”

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So I’m praying. I’m praying for strength over the leaders in this community, that the Lord would sustain them as they face more physical and political and economical challenges than I will ever know. I’m praying for the women, that as they move through their days, as they teach and learn and press forward in an environment that is not for them, that they would have a sense and a motivation that the Creator of the Universe is for them, and that they would feel the prayers.

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I’m praying for us, for you and me, that we would be open and willing and that we would take in the stories and ask the Lord to change us. That we would take our meager offerings — our words, our talents, our finances — and that we would be ready to pour out wholeheartedly when he moves on our hearts.

He does not open our eyes so that we may do nothing. He does not even open our eyes so that we may simply feel something. He opens our eyes and makes our hearts beat faster because he wants us to be his hands and his feet. I don’t even know what it looks like, sitting here in my suburban house raising my babies, but I’m betting that if we come, open handed, asking him to show us, he won’t keep hidden. He cares far more than I ever could. And in that, I trust.

Sarah Ann Rogers writes to encourage women to live ethical, intentional, connected lives by owning their stories and diving into the heart of JesusFind her at SarahAnnonline.com

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