I’ve traveled the world for 257 days now. I’ve seen staggering Central American mountains, lush green European fields, unmarked African bush lands, and bustling Asian streets. You’ve seen me hiking volcanoes, exploring ancient Roman cities, bungee jumping off waterfalls, and riding on the backs of mammoths. And yes, the world is beautiful because God’s fingerprints are all over it. But the world is also broken, shattered, and slashed with sin. And I see it every single day.
I see things that have broken my heart. I see things that I can’t show you pictures of. I can’t show you the desperation in the eyes of a child digging through our trash bins for any spare food we may have left behind. I can’t show you the broken heart of a little boy born out of rape abandoned by his young mother. I can’t show you the elaborate golden temples and figurines on every corner, full of false gods and empty promises. I never took pictures of the men so full of depression and desperation that they drink away their sorrows on dangerous, homemade concoctions designed to numb their pain or end their life. You may never see the elderly witch doctor offering cursed cures for ailments and selling revenge on a platter. You can’t see the men with scars all over their body from a past filled with abuse and hatred. You can’t see the young girls who are ripped from their homes and whose bodies are sold on the street to men who devour their innocence. You can’t see the boys so desperate for food that they sell their bodies for a bowl of rice. I can’t show you the teenage boy who was used as a drug mule and whose body is near crippled by beatings from the dealer. You may never see it but I won’t ever forget it.
I see so much that I’m terrified I’m becoming numb to it. I’m so scared that I’m becoming used to the injustice in the world. Sometimes I find myself somber when others are in tears around me. Is this a gift of strength or a burden of apathy? Sometimes I can’t tell the difference. Are the harsh realities of a broken world affecting me less in Month 9 than they did in Month 1? Am I less shaken by the effects of sin and the fall than I was when I stepped off my first plane ride of this journey? Oh Lord, I pray not! I want to be deeply moved by the hurt, anger, abandonment, and pain in the world. People who are moved, MOVE. People whose hearts are wrenched open are stirred to action. If I cease to be shattered over a shattered world then I will become complacent, numb, unresponsive, or even worse – just going through the motions. I did not leave my home, my job, and everyone I love to be a “good Christian” and “do the right thing” overseas. I left because the lostness of billions of souls destroyed me. I left because the world desperately needs Jesus and I refuse to keep quiet about his hope and redemption. I left because God lovingly dropped a wrecking ball on my heart.
Sometimes I’m scared of the numbness I feel. But my solution is simple – I meditate on the Cross. I remind myself of what Jesus did for me and for the world. I picture meeting Him face to face and the joy I’ll have when those I’ve encountered this year do the same. Then I pray a very sincere and dangerous prayer – “Lord, break my heart for what breaks Yours.” And then I wait – patient, terrified, ready.
I have two more months left on this incredible journey. I beg you, please pray that prayer over me too. I do not want to waste a single minute removed from this mission. And while you’re at it, consider praying that over yourself too. You will never regret a prayer that forgets yourself and focuses on the Kingdom. Be bold today, friends, and press on.
Love,
Bre
