The Santa Fe shooting this morning was the 2nd school shooting this week. The 3rd this month. The 16th this year. It's only halfway through May. This shouldn't be happening. No one should have to deal with this, and yet this is the world we live in.
I got a text from a dear friend today. I'd like to read it to you: "There was a shooting 30 miles from where I live this morning. And I'm asking you to check the news because we can't afford to be closed-minded and just assume evil is in the world. We have to know both sides so why know why we choose to belong to the good. Every day here in Texas, my friends are going to school anxious about what the day holds, and I'm sick of it. Everyone cries out, and God holds us, but they need to feel Him there. Would you please pray?" I wish my friend never had to send that text. I wish no one had ever gotten hurt. I wish a lot of things. But wishing isn't going to do anything. Wishing isn't going to do anything.
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A couple of months ago, I had the amazing opportunity to go to the Amazon jungles of Brazil and hang out with some friends of mine who are missionaries on the river. It was a wonderful time, full of fellowship and fun. Though I have tons of great memories from the trip, one moment in particular has stuck with me.
I went with one of my missionary friends I was staying with to visit a nearby village. Afterwards, we came back to the village where he and his wife lived, and since it was a particularly hot afternoon, I decided to take a quick jump into the river. After my little swim, I got out of the river, onto the dock, and headed up to the house. As I climbed ashore, I got mud all over my feet. Now, the mud there is a little different than it is here. The mud here is more water than dirt, so it washes off quite easily, but the mud there is just wet clay. It sticks to you, it’s slimy, and it’s just downright nasty. Of course, I had this mud all over my feet, so I waited outside the house so as not to get everything inside dirty. All I needed was a towel to dry off, and I could take care of the mud myself with a bucket of water. Instead, my friend grabbed the hose and started washing my feet himself. I don’t mean that he just held the hose and I rinsed my feet under the water. No, he got down on his knees and washed my disgusting, slimy, ant-bitten, blistered feet. He didn’t have to, but he did. I was perfectly capable of doing it myself, but he served me. It wasn’t just an act of service, though. It was a display of love. Love is service. It’s sacrificing your own comfort and preferences for others. By simply washing my feet, my friend was showing that he loved me. Jesus of all people washed his own disciples’ feet. In a world that tells us that we’re the most important, and encourages selfishness, I’m encouraging you to be selfless. I’m encouraging you to serve, to love, and to sacrifice your comfort for others. It doesn’t have to be a huge thing, either. Sometimes, it can be as simple as washing feet. |
AuthorHi, I'm Abigail! Welcome to my blog. Hope you enjoy! Archives
August 2018
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