hosea = me

So, I've been thinking ...

I am preparing for a short-term international mission trip at the end of this year with Habitat for Humanity International through their Global Village program (HFH GV). It has not been decided yet where I will be serving (waiting on the team leaders of each trip) but it has narrowed to two people/locations: Delhi, India or Papua New Guinea.

During each phone interview, I was asked the questions: why do you want to serve with Habitat and why do you want to serve here? I have now come up with better answers. Not to say my first answer was wrong; my answer just wasn't quite there yet.

So, I was thinking about the prophet Hosea in the Bible. Not the part about marrying a prostitute (thank you God), but the children named not loved and not my people. God, in His love and compassion changes their names and changes their lives: "I will show my love to the one I called 'Not my loved one.' I will say to those called 'Not my people,' 'You are my people'; and they will say, 'You are my God.'"

I think we are called to do the same.

There are so many people throughout the world and within our communities that have been forgotten, lost, not loved, outcasted, hurt. I want my business to be about stepping into the lives of these and being present. I want to show tangibly that they have not been left behind and they matter. I want to guide people until they are face to face with God's love.

So if that means going to nations distant by miles and by culture - from an island nation that survives by subsistence farming where their homes are constructed of degradable materials to an extremely densely populated city where far too many are too poor to even have a roof over their heads - to work alongside those we serve to build homes that are safe and good. To say, "I see you. You are not invisible or forgotten. Let me walk with you."

Or maybe it also means lifting my eyes from my own little world to truly see those who exist around my everyday living. To spend time helping in a homeless shelter or soup kitchen. To be a blanket of comfort and compassion talking down a friend from suicide or grieving. To be a force of love.

Many times I fall short. But that's why I'm going.