Blessed

I am sitting now at my kitchen table, in a dark red and tan colored room, listening to the sounds that float through my window - cars honking, tires screeching, motorcyclists showing off.  But louder still is the sound of music.  Someone is playing a saxophone from a random rooftop nearby.  He plays a beautiful, jazzy melody and reminds me of my home.  It's a quiet, confident song he plays.  He plays every night.  Sometimes I am not as content to listen, such as when I am in bed and have to wake up early the next morning.  But right now, it's peaceful.  It's beautiful.  It's relaxing.

We have nearly completed our first week of outreach at Columbia, and it has been a period of incredible sanctification.  In this week alone I have learned approximately seventeen new ways to swallow my pride, and I have seen the devil in action.  I have begun to realize the magnitude of the task God has laid before Team Columbia, the necessity of prayer, the weaknesses of my heart.  I have been stretched and stomped on and blessed and blessed and blessed.

I am learning more and more the importance of faith and how easily it can be broken and shattered, and how necessary it is to prevail.

It's been a tough week.  It has hurt.  Praise God.  Thank you, Jesus, for loving me in this way.