I finally made it on the plane to Caracas, Venezuela after 6 years of waiting to return.
I still remember the feeling in my gut stepping back onto American soil after an incredible and life-changing week at the Samuel's House orphanage.
The United States would never again feel like home to me. Sure it was comfortable, but home?
No more.
The first hug I received from a wide-eyed, dark-skinned little girl with seemingly no reason to rejoice altered my universe-one that once revolved around me.
I was a selfish, arrogant, rebellious 17 year old child even though at the time I saw myself as an adult.
What a joke.
I knew a lot about Jesus but I had no idea who He was.
My relationship with Jesus has morphed and turned my world upside down, inside out and shaken everything I thought I knew about being a follower.
I have made a transition from fan to follower.
Pain does that to you.
In the past 6 years I've gone through seasons of dryness, anger, mourning and joy.
When I originally planned this trip my life was in a completely different place than it was today.
I have recently suffered great grief, great change, but great freedom.
I have lost some people that I pictured holding my hand through every life's season.
I have planted seeds in new places and taken roots in fresh soil.
I have learned to smile again for no reason.
I have learned to not force people to stay in my life, but to remain open to anyone willing to stay.
I have learned to laugh at life and change.
I have learned to love people so deep it has consumed every thought and keeps me up at night.
I have learned its okay to let go when you've fought yourself to your own collapse.
Part of me thought I should cancel the trip to Caracas all together.
I let a select few's words poison the dream God planted in me before I even had a name.
God wasn't going to let that happen.
Words to any of you:
Nobody, I say NOBODY can wipe away the identity Christ has given you.
NOBODY can write whatever they want on you without your consent.
In a matter of three months I have been shattered into a million pieces, to sitting on an airplane with a smile on my face and a song in my heart.
How?
I ask myself that everyday.
Jesus is in the business of broken people.
God met me while my face was buried in that off-white carpet that day.
I was screaming, hurting and angry.
I was clawing my nails into the carpet and sobbing uncontrollably like a child away from his mother for the first time.
I was doing much more talking than listening that day.
God laid on that carpet by my tear-stained sleeves and reminded me of Who I was dealing with.
I was dealing with the same Jesus Who took a murderer and turned him into a ruler.
I was dealing with the same Jesus Who took a stuttering man and with him parted seas of red.
I was dealing with the same Jesus Who took adulterers, killers, losers, screw-ups & turned them into vessels.
There was no way Jesus was letting me off that easy.
My life pivoted at that moment.
Jesus came into my life like never before.
I have become head over heels in love with Jesus.
Ive fallen so hard and deep I find myself loving people I couldn't love before.
God took me, broke me, rebuilt me from the bottom up.
He shook me, washed me and clothed me with new garments.
When I see old friends they notice that thing some people have in their eyes after they've just had their honeymoon.
That's what it feels like to be in love, in obsession with Jesus.
I went into the week absolutely blind, but open to anything and everything Jesus had for me.
The week was not what I expected.
At first, I questioned God as to why He would bring me all the way to another country to...clean dishes and mop floors.
That week I witnessed servant hood in a real and tangible first-hand way.
One morning as I washed dishes, staring at the beautiful Caracas mountains God stood next to me and spoke in a quiet, clear voice.
My heart had been broken for this exact week, this exact moment in my life.
God allowed me to experience brokenness in order for me to experience restoration.
All the scrubbing, drying, washing, mopping; it was for me after all.
To go and give of myself, asking for nothing back.
To go and wash another's feet.
I expected to go and teach others about Jesus, but ended up being taught lessons by people who never spoke a word of English.
They didn't have to.
Isn't that amazing?
The woman who cleaned/cooked everything every day with a smile on her face showed me Jesus in a way I've never know before, and she couldn't even speak my language.
This week was to show me that this life I live is not about Britney, but about everyone else.
I learned how to shred 10 pounds of meat by hand, fold trash bags, prepare plates for upcoming groups of volunteers.
I swept a floor that I knew would re-dirty within ten minutes of my cleaning.
I washed dishes I knew would be stained with food again within 2 hours of my labor.
Sometimes you must minister behind the scenes of another ministry.
You may never get recognition.
You may never get servant of the week at your local church.
That. Doesn't. Matter.
Jesus has washed my feet for so long, knowing I'd wander off to only get them muddy again.
Yet He washes them again.
And again.
And again.
What God spoke to me as I stared out that window has changed the way I see myself in future ministry:
"Britney, don't you see? I have brought you to the perfect place for ministry: on your knees."
God brought me across the world to shake me up and open my eyes to my lack of a servants heart and need to only minister in the lime light.
May I always remember washing those dishes.
May I always serve in small tasks to make big impacts.
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