Africa has been so strongly on my heart lately.
My heart is literally breaking.
I had the most vivid dream last night–it was more realistic than any I’ve ever had before.
When I woke up and realized that I was not actually snuggled up under a mosquito net with my babies . . . my heart ached and my eyes overflowed with tears.
It’s easy not to care when one doesn’t know the names and faces of those in need.
I have begged God to give me His heart–to break my heart for what breaks His. And oh, He has answered. He has shown me faces, He has told me the names. I vividly see the faces of those starving, the faces of those being abused, the faces of those abandoned, the faces of those overlooked, the faces of the hurting, the faces of the hated. I deeply love them.
I can’t not care.
I am so thankful to know that my heart is broken for that which breaks the heart of our Father.
I’ll be transparent and say that I didn’t realize how painful this answer to prayer would be–but it’s a pain I’m thankful to carry.
Jesus, continue to soften my heart towards the things which are nearest and dearest to You. You are a Father to the fatherless!