The Redemption of Vacation

It was just vacation. IMG_7946

But it felt a lot like redemption. 

One year ago we were all staying in house together. Tight, cramped, choking on the fumes of Kampala, I was losing it. 

Losing it with my kids.

Losing it with my husband.

Losing it with God. 

Right there at the end when all my people had gotten on an airplane and headed home, I started losing my religion. 

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I couldn't understand what God was doing. I wasn't sure God was good. I wasn't even sure God was real. 

Don't you care about orphans? Don't you care about these people? Didn't you promise? 

The weight of those questions was too heavy for me to throw them up to heaven. So I spent as much as my day as I possibly could in bed, using those questions as a blanket that weighed me down in the cool that had come with the rainy season in Uganda. 

Sometimes when you adopt people think you have some spiritual advantage. They think you have it together. I didn't. But I read my own press and then tried desperately to live up. When I didn't, when I couldn't, the failure almost broke me. 

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I certainly didn't deserve the invitation. It could not possibly have been offered to me because I was so pleasant to be around. I wasn't invited because I was so encouraging and uplifting. It for sure wasn't because I was a pillar of wisdom and strength in a hard time. 

But my friend Kristy invited me nonetheless. Come to Colorado. 

So here we stood. One year later and all staying in a house together. And it felt a lot like redemption. 

We talked about music, theology, and tattoos. We made fart jokes, pot jokes (we were in Colorado after all), and shared stories. We stayed up too late and let the kids run too wild. 

Instead of striving there was peace.

Instead of oppression there was freedom.

Instead of fear there was love. 

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So much love. We looked back to that place of oppression. We looked back on the battles. So many defeats. So many casualties. It was too recent for any of us to have forgotten the oppressive weight of the battle, the weight of our own frustration, and the weight of the questions. 

Set against a background of the Rocky Mountains with our kids running loud and free those memories provided a sharp relief. It looked like redemption. 

It looked like an invitation undeserved. 

It looked like a profound desire to connect. 

It looked like freedom from the chains that bound. 


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Redemption of our souls only happens once. Redemption of our lives happens over and over again. It broadens our boundaries each time He frees us from our bonds. 

It isn't too late. Is not ever too late to be free. Jesus is standing there with your open invitation, no matter how undeserved. Seize it. 

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. Galatians 5:1