I'm a raging foaming river, churning with every photo of an orphan...my heart rushing into the torrents again and again. Passionately pleading for families, praying persistently, crying tears for the ones that get left behind.
You're the quiet deep waters. At times, your silence has been misread as lack of concern. At times I wondered if you were truly hearing Him...wondering if "the least of these" occupied any recesses in your heart.
I've learned to never doubt the still waters of your soul.
...because it was you who said James 1:27 should be one of the most central verses for every church.
...because it was you who said Jesus is all you aspire to be.
...because it was you who looked into an orphan's eyes and saw the brokenness and remembered the lines to a song: "Surely we can change something."
...because it was you who heard God calling you to enter again into an orphan's life...
...because it is you who willingly offered to give up the money saved for the mission trip you've been looking forward to for months because "hosting Sandija is much more important."
You're the quiet deep waters. I was wrong to think quiet equaled inactive. I've learned that quiet means wisdom. Quiet means contemplation. Quiet means the gelling of many pieces of Scriptures, prayers, and thoughts into profound steps. Quiet means less talk and more walk. It's the acta non verba of bygone academy days...rising steadily.
And when those deep waters begin to overflow, I'm awash in the peace. You balance out my raging river currents. I take your hand, and we walk into the unknown together...because you aspire to be all that Jesus is...so I follow you following Him. And the adventure on this path has been truly amazing.
To the man I adore: I love you! I'm glad we've chosen the road less traveled.