I will fight.

I had a dream last night that I was in Kenya again.
The sights and smells and flavors were so real.
The faces and smiles and hugs and laughter.... so real.
Waking up is always the hardest part.
The dreams are the easy part, but realizing they are over never gets easy.
My heart STILL longs for that place. Maybe more than ever.
The dreams are more real. The waking up more difficult.
God has given me the smallest bit of HIS love and HIS passion and HIS hurting for Africa.
He has placed in me HIS burning for the father and motherless. HIS desire to seek justice on their behalf.
A year ago the statistics were just statistics. Just numbers on a page telling me how many children were dying, how many were left to raise themselves with no parents, how many were malnourished, mistreated and left to die. A year ago the numbers were shocking, but they weren't impossible to forget. But after only two weeks in one of the world's poorest nations, I am forever changed. Those numbers on a page now have a name. And a story. And a smile. And a laugh. And a voice. And suddenly it's become personal. Their story becomes personal. Their struggle and pain becomes personal. Their impossible circumstance becomes personal. The fact that they were left to fend for themselves at the age of four becomes personal. The fact that they've gone days with no food becomes personal. The fact that they've watched their friends die due to lack of simple and basic medical care becomes personal. It becomes personal.

So, I fight.

I join with God, with his heart for these little ones, and I fight for more. I fight for justice. I fight for hope. I may only be one, but I have a mighty God on my side, and it only takes one.
God has given me faith to see a nation reached and a nation restored. It may be a lofty goal. Some may call me foolish, but I would argue that often the foolish are the ones used to do the mighty.