I like to think that I’m good at multi-tasking. I really do. Sometimes, if I plan well, I can accomplish much of my to-do list. But if I’m going to do something really really well, I can’t give 100% to it all. This month, I’ve been focusing on scaling back in my blog writing to try to tackle the huge feet of nearing completion of my very first book proposal. I have the opportunity to present it to some publishers in July and I don’t want to be scrambling at the last minute. I want to do it well. I want to do it right. So, I decided that I needed to hush my heart some to focus in on the message of this book that I’m writing. I’m writing a book on pain, loss, God, and redemption. My audience is made up of Christian young adults, who are trying to figure out life, but amidst the transition of crossing over from childhood to adulthood, have lost a parent. The writing process of this book has stirred up remembrances of old pains and not so old pains. Among them, are feelings and fears of being forgotten… of the world continuing to spin, when mine had very much come to a screeching halt. So many questions come from those places…especially questions of how to keep moving, how to survive, and who will help.
Among the thousands of questions that must be running through their minds, I imagine many of our Nepali friends must be wondering some of these same things right now. There have been two massive earthquakes that took the lives of over 8,604 people and injured over 16,808 people. The world knows about the biggest earthquakes, but most of us are probably not aware that there have actually been a total of 35 earthquakes that have swallowed the worlds of these dear people in the last 7 days and 112 earthquakes in the past month. That’s just it. When your earth experiences the biggest quake it has had in awhile, people gather right away to help. But then, they tend to get right back on to their own patches of earth, leaving you to feel forgotten and helpless to deal with the aftershocks. No matter what the magnitude of the quake, the need to know that you are not alone, not forgotten, and not abandoned runs deep.
I don’t have much to give, but I gave a little. I asked God to multiply the gifts that are received and to use those gifts to rescue lives and bring Christ’s hope to souls. When Jesus died on the cross, darkness, and an earthquake came shortly after. Christ literally rocked our world. And then a few days later, He defined new life by coming up out of the rubble. I know there are a lot of needs I use my voice to speak for. I know most of us can’t help every need financially. But if you are moved to use your sacrificial gift, however large or small, I pray that the Lord will multiply that, along with my own just like the loaves and fishes to help reach hundreds of thousands of people with hope for making a fresh new start in this life filled with encouragement that they are not alone and also for being moved to the hope of everlasting life by those who are delivering the gospel with each bit of tangible aid.
This writing process of mine? Although I have had painful, sad, lonely feelings and memories stirred up, my hope has also been stirred up. Because I have been able to look back to the day my earth quaked and then upon all the days that followed, to see the faithfulness of the Lord in my most desperate times and to see the beauty of the body of Christ that helped dig me out of the rubble. I want to be an excavator. Through my book and through this blog. I want to help dig people out of their rubble with the graciousness of being part of Christ’s body. I’m not strong enough to do it on my own. But Jesus is. And His body isn’t limited to just my fingers. No, it’s strengthened by the hands, arms, necks, ears, mouths, torsos, legs, backs, feet, bones, and toes that help make up the rest of His body. Let’s work together. Let’s reach beyond our own reach. Let’s use the body that we are a part of to help excavate for the people of Nepal today.