His Love Never Fails

I looked around and saw many macadamia trees hitting the horizon.  I was tired, sweaty, and sick of grafting healthy shoots to each tree in order to produce a more abundant crop.  I wanted to do something more important.  Something that would make a bigger difference to the kingdom of God than just allowing a few more nuts to be produced.

That night,  27 children came in to sing at our chapel at the orphanage where we were staying.  They sang in pure sweet voices about a God that loves them no matter what.  They praised the Holy Father that cares for them, lifting their sweet faces to a Savior. 

They sang of a love from far above this world:


You, Lord, will always
treat me with kindness.
    Your love never fails.
You have made us what we are.
    Don’t give up on us now!
Psalm 138:8

And then the pastor came up after and told about how each nut that they can sell brings money into help these children. Each. single. nut.

The money helps buy food, clothes, bedding.  I think of the multiple sets of sheets that I have at home, and I die a bit inside.  I die to myself and I start over with Christ.

I want to continue to make a difference.  In the lives of these orphans, in the lives of everyone who I come into contact with.  In the life that God has given me.

The next morning, I look at all of those macadamia nut trees

and smile.


~~~~~~


That was many years ago, a moment in time where I chose to put Him first.  And I try to do that daily.  I mess up daily.  I tend to really like myself and want to make myself happy, but once in a while, God's Spirit will touch me and He will move.  I chose to become a Compassion Blogger because of this touch. I chose to teach Sunday School because of this touch.  I choose to write because of this touch.

I know that His love never fails. Whether it is a love for me, the children, or a simple tree.

His love never fails.

Do you have any verses that have transformed you that you might share with us?

  I would love to hear about them...

Link up and share with others.

Help a Child

Crazy Little Thing Called Dinner

We recently went to an instrumental concert that played synthesized music incorporated with the Christmas Choruses that we love to hum, sing, and whisper quietly at night to sleeping babies.

This particular concert also had a video accompanying the music in order to (I guess) enhance the music.

Some of the videos were beautiful: candles lit on a dark night and one by one lighting up the room with the flickers of fire, snow covered trees with ice skaters gracefully moving while we swayed with them.

Some of the videos were a little more random: the sad drummer boy that never came back from the war, the psychedelic wisps of smoke that looked more like the lawn of a Woodstock concert. Groovy!

But there was one video that actually kept replaying throughout the concert.  It was of a medieval feast and it showed the men and women greedily eating the food all the while entertaining themselves with the artists of that time.  And I realized during that video, that really, my dinner is not much different.

We have the same cast of characters, just a little different attire:

Joker: Jumping into the feast with his flips and juggling act, I think of my child who loves to make us laugh, gets up during the meal in order to show one more trick he has learned that day. I thank God for his smile.

Dancer: Gracefully moving while her beauty is beheld, I think of my child who is growing more in ladylike beauty and gracefully guides little ones in her life. I thank God for her love.

Knight:  Quietly sitting back and yet will come to the dance if needed, I think of my child who sits back to speak his word and yet all the while encouraging the others with his laugh and encouragement. I thank God for his kindness.

Sword Swallower: Defying all sense of what is real and courageously goes on his own, I think of my child who lives in the light of pretend where kisses and Mickeys still exist in a little boy's heart. I thank God for his goodness.


And then I move on to me...what character do I play in this musical?

Sometimes I am the princess, on those days when I remember that I am the daughter of a king.
Sometimes I am the cook, feeding my little ones goodness.
Sometimes I am the gymnast, juggling carpools, homework, and my patience at times.


But sometimes, I do not want to be a character.  I don't want to enter the dance.  I don't want to eat the food.  I want to stay up in my high tower and be alone.  Waiting for the King.  My time to hear his whispers of how much He loves me.  And from that high tower, I will see a little baby being born. Crying in the night wrapped in a rough cloth and in the still night.  And if I listen hard enough, those cries of life will turn into cries of death for soon that baby will die for me.  The rough cloth being torn.  And the feast will be over.  The night will be still.

But then...

 the music plays and the light shines on for the Son of Man will rise and live again.

And I will join that dance, for he died and rose so I could be a part of that dance.
That feast.
This life.

What character are you in this feast of life today?