Ask and You Shall Receive

This Friday, and seven Fridays after that, I am getting together with a couple ladies in my house. I’ve invited them so I have reason to clean. Ha. Ok. Partial truth. I’ve invited them to coffee talk and mull over some God conversation through a book called Restless. 

I’ve written about Jennie Allen. She wrote the book Anything. Boy did she mean it. I’m passionate about how she lives. I want to reflect some of it. Same with Flower Patch Farm Girl. These girls look the world in the face and punch it in the junk like ninjas. Like boss ninjas in high heels and skinnies and a plaid scarf. That’s the kind of Christian I want to be. (Yah. I’m sure that’s a loosely interpreted scripture.) 
The only rule with them is that they have no rules. They love. That’s it. That simple, short, life altering word. 

And things happen. People’s hearts change and God gets seen and heard. Then the people get restless. 
If I asked you to give me one area you would love to jump into and help, what would you say? If you had to pick a way to help others, how would you help? Who would you help? Picture the group. 
How old? 
What gender?
What’s the theme? 
Does it seem crazy enough to just work? That’s God. Run with it. 
Wanna know mine? 
I want to work at a school, to be opened to girls and boys sent here to America through sex trafficking or other tragic pasts, and I want to teach them English and give them someone to trust and hug them and remind them that they’re beautiful and loved by a king. A real. Living king. 
I want to sing with them and stop what I am doing to listen to them recap a funny story. I want to introduce them to that game where you have to get the Oreo from your forehead and Into your mouth because they trust me enough to be vulnerable. I want to high five them down low as they return to their seat after their armpits sweat out during a presentation. I want to leave them notes in their locker reminding them that God has traded the ashes of their once wrecked life for new beauty. And when the memories and emotions of that once broken life creep back in and they want answers, I want to look them full in the face and say, “your story isn’t finished. That never should have happened to you, but your story isn’t finished.” 
I want to cook dinner with them and teach them to throw pasta at the wall. I want to sing with them and shout to the ceiling. I want to pray with them every morning and pray over them every night as I fall asleep. 
Recently I was asked what makes me tick. What’s my passion? Where would I reach my hands if my arm could extend anywhere I wanted? Well that is the answer. 
I want to work for Mike Mercer of Compassion First. If you don’t know this organization, get to. If you have a dollar a month to spare, send it. If you ever think of Indonesia, pray for them. If you have a daughter, niece, nephew, son, sister, brother, or cousin remember that God’s Grace is sufficient. 

Jesus said we don’t have because a don’t ask. Well, I’m asking. Can I work for Compassion First? Please? Amen. 
So, of you have been feeling restless and stuck in a life that seems busy just for the sake of being busy, meet me at my house for the next few Fridays to go through this book, drink some coffee, and watch a little video. We can and should be doing more for God. People need people. Are you people? I’m people. Let’s do this!