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Processing My Passions
There are a lot of things I love to do. There are a lot of things I like to do. There are a lot of things I would rather not do. And there are things I despise doing. But then there is a separate category from all these things–the things that I am passionate about doing. I just don’t love them or like them, I am deeply attached to them and desire for them to consume my inner most being. Things like music (singing and playing guitar), Jesus, writing (and writing well), reading good books, photography, shooting hoops, and working out are my passions, to name a few. I make time specifically for these things because I need them in order to live and live as Jesus has called me to. In some way, each is a sacrament because in these moments, perhaps these sacraments of the present moment, His presence fills me, and in turn, I am fully present and engaged in the activity, the music, the literature.
Lately, I’ve been prompted to a new passion. I’m not sure what to make of it yet, but the Lord keeps laying it on my heart. I went to Passion 2012 over Christmas Break and there we talked about it. A few days later a speaker came in to Bethel speaking about the same issue. And yet again, this past week for the World Christian Action Conference the speaker hails from an organization working directly with it. The other night I even had a scary, but rather eye opening dream about it. And I believe through each of these events God is speaking to me. I don’t believe this is a coincidence, but a divine calling perhaps. So what is this passion I am talking about? Freeing slaves from sex trafficking.
A few months ago God gave me a picture of me unlocking padlocks, chains (not literal), and helping others break the bonds in their life from the ties in their past. I am not sure if that’s even what He has in store for me in this “call”–if I can call it that. I am still processing this whole thing. And if I can be honest, I am scared. I am so afraid that I am not good enough or equipped enough for a battle as big as this. 27 million slaves are stuck in the sex trafficking business. But my heart cries FREEDOM, FREEDOM, FREEDOM, for each individual who is without a name. I’ve donated financially and I thought that would be enough to please God, but for some reason He keeps drawing me back to this issue. I don’t know where to go from here except to keep praying, keep seeking, and respond accordingly. I will spend time in prayer and maybe as I practice my daily “sacraments” He will once again speak to my heart.
