This is a re-post of a blog written by Michelle Euperio. God can do more than we could ever imagine! Just reading this pumped me up and made me want to do something amazing for God...one of these days I'm gonna know what that is!! :)
I was talking to someone today about support/finances and she kept on saying, "You need to be realistic."
After hearing that 3 times, I said, "I serve a God who completely provides. I serve a God where money is no object and money bows down to him. I serve a God who always performs miracles. I serve a glorious king where the possibilities are endless. That's me being realistic. Realistic is knowing that my God provides."
I don't know how many times I have heard...
You need to be realistic... You can't go on the World Race. You need to work a job. You won't be able to raise $13,800. You want to speak? You don't have a voice. You want to make shoes? You don't have a design or business degree. You want to teach women about confidence and beauty? You're not confident and beautiful. You want to help prostitutes and get them off the street? Good luck with that.. You are living in a fantasy world.
Lies. Lies that I have heard. Things that people have said in the past. Lies that Satan has tried to use against me.
I went on The World Race. I saw a glimpse of the Heart of God and I want God more than any amount of money or job.
I didn't raise $13,800. God used all of you and provided not only THE COST OF THE RACE but I was able to be reimbursed for my health insurance and plane tickets.
Yes, the Lord is calling me to make shoes and makes shoes for the KINGDOM. The fashion industry is a billion dollar industry where women are obsessed with themselves, finding their identity in earthly things and false security. I want to see a new generation of women that find their identity in the Lord and see themselves the way Christ sees them. I want to hear the new generation of women uplift and encourage each other to the greatness the Lord desires for each one of them.
My confidence, my identity and my beauty is all found in the Lord. He tells me who I am and I walk in that truth.
Yes, I will help women get off the streets. They are worth it. They had/have dreams like every little girl does of being something great-dancer, teacher, reporter, shoe designer.... Whatever.. And I want them to be able to have that chance again... to dream like that little girl they were before they were robbed of their innocence and ability to trust. I want them to see themselves as the women they were meant to be.
I don't live in a fantasy world. This is reality. I live in a world where lies are constantly thrown at me. I live in a world where women sell themselves for their families to have a meal that day or they sell themselves because that's all they believe they deserve. I live in a world where I know that I am not the "best educated" in design, fashion or whatever. I live in a world where I don't always feel beautiful or feel that I have a voice.
That's where MY KING steps up. That's where My King TELLS ME WHO I AM. That's where My KingKNOWS MY WEAKNESSES AND STILL USES ME FOR HIS GREATER PURPOSE. That's when My King tells me I AM BEAUTIFUL AND CONFIDENT. That's when my King MAKES ME RUN toward whatever seems too big or too scary and FIGHT FOR HIM! *insert Xena Warrior Princess yell*
People may say I am not realistic but this is my reality. What's real or practical is simple. My King died for me. He said I was worth it. That's why I am here. Truth is realistic. Through HIM all things are possible.
Because of you all I am now fully funded for my
apprenticeship at AIM!! You are all amazing and I could not have done it
without you!!
To my anonymous supporter…thank you.Thank you for believing in this
organization and me enough to invest in us.You have no idea how much it means to me!!
For everyone who has supported me over the last few years…you
have invested into the kingdom.You have invested into countless lives of men, woman and children all
around the world who need to know of God's love, mercy and compassion.Thank you for sowing seeds.Thank you for giving.Thank you.
I love you all very much and I appreciate you more than you
could ever imagine!!!
If you would like to continue supporting AIM and some of our staff you should check out my roommate, Cindy Flores! She was on my World Race team and is working in Admissions as a mobilization team leader!! She helps send participants out on the field and manages all support accounts within the Race!! She is such an amazing woman of God with incredible faith and is so full of love and God's grace! She is such a beautiful example of what it means to trust in the Lord with all your heart!!
Sara Choe, from my World Race squad, posted this blog today. After reading it I knew I had to re-post. My heart broke as I read the suicide letter Bill Zeller wrote. The pain that he was going through was so intense and deep he didn't know what else to do. I pray that as you read this blog and watch the video, you think of people in your life that life needs to be spoken over...and when you see them you are bold enough to speak the words.
A friend from high school and my church in NY shared a link on Facebook to this Gizmodo article: "The Agonizing Last Words of Bill Zeller". Please read all of it, it hurt my heart at so many levels. I'll trust you're going to take just a few minutes to read, but I'll share a bit of the prologue that Joel Johnson of Gizmodo wrote before reposting Bill's letter:
Bill Zeller was a talented programmer. . . He took his own life. . . and left an explanation that I think it's important you read.
Zeller was a victim of sexual and psychological abuse. It's clear from his writing that the abuse left him unable to interface with the world in any way that didn't leave him feeling he was too sullied to have the same experiences that he thought others had. He had a self-described "darkness", which despite his prostration it's clear he handled more ably than perhaps he ever realized.
Programming was a solace, but only temporarily. Zeller never felt he could escape the things that had happened to him because he carried his torment with him everywhere. . .
I was left speechless; saddened and upset because it didn't have to be this way.
A growing number of my generation are getting activated while on the field, where people like Nathan Salley are actually doing what Jesus said we could and should do. We go on this journey and get our hearts broken and our sense of normalcy ruined. We returned changed.
And while some of us are called to go back out there, some of us stay back. Those of us that stay back need to be advancing Kingdom forcefully - more so than out there, as I suspect there are more men and women like Bill Zeller out there.
We're taught to ask for the nations as our inheritance. Now that we've spanned the world, how 'bout we asked for our hometown?
I don't know. . . I think it's like what Ezekiel Azonwu said in this spoken word piece (as Steve shared):
"If I'm not speaking life into you, I'm killing you. . .
. . . we pretend that we're mimes
not knowing that our audience is potentially blind."
You know, as I read Bill's letter, I wondered where God's people were in all this. Why didn't we show up for Bill? A true encounter with God (not the experience he got from the filter of his family) would've turned everything around.
Then as I listened to Ezekiel's words for the umpteenth time, I was rendered further speechless. . . that perhaps it wasn't Bill who took his own life, but that our silence made us accomplices.
No one told him that God loves music with a beat. No one told him how extravagant his grace is. No one told him that nothing is beyond redemption.
No one told him that God gave his life to restore intimacy. No one told him that we're healed by his wounds. No one told that he's never been alone.
No one spoke truth over the lies that kept him in the darkness. No one wielded their Christ-given authority break off the spiritual strongholds.
No one declared freedom over him. No one spoke up. No one showed up for him.
And that is not okay.
And I don't know what else to think or say or even pray.
I only have $1500 left to raise by February 9th!!If you feel led to give just click the button on the left entitled "Support Me!" to give an online donation!It's super fast and easy!
Thanks so much for all you have given during my journey here
with AIM!
I'll leave you with a blog written by current Racer Nic Wolfe. This blog is a perfect example of a Racer who's life is being changed and heart is being broken while out on the field.
This is a poem that was written by a Moldavian orphan.
Our parents work hard abroad And have for many years We have to grow up without them But this fills our eyes with tears ~~~~~~~~~~ Mother, who will care for me if you are away? Our home will have no master, father, if you chose not to stay ~~~~~~~~~~ I miss my parents very much, I am feeling so alone I want no money or no clothes, I want you to come home ~~~~~~~~~~ Mother, who will care for me if you are away? Our home will have no master, father, if you chose not to stay ~~~~~~~~~~ Parents, can you hear us? We need you to come home Other people's slaves were made When you leave us on our own ~~~~~~~~~~ Mother, who will care for me if you are away? Our home will have no master, father, if you chose not to stay
This breaks my heart. Where there are those who might not have the warmest coat or blankets for the long, harsh eastern European winter. Where there are those who might not have the best food available to fill their tiny stomachs. Where there are those who might not have the best facilities to house these orphans. The one thing that they want, the one thing that they crave... is love.
I can't stand by doing nothing while even one of these kids shiver through the night. I can't put on my jacket to keep warm without thinking about the little ones who cannot do the same. I can't eat one meal without thinking about one of these children who maybe going without. I can't look at the place I live, with climate control to keep the cold out, without knowing there are those who cannot enjoy the same. I can't live one moment of my life knowing there are those out there who have not been loved. God has shown me love in abundance. I want to take this love to those without. If you have been moved at all, if your heart breaks, if you cannot stop crying at this thought then do something about it. Go bring love to these children. If you cannot go, send others who can. So that you may know you are helping. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem.
Matthew 25:40 "The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.' - Jesus
My apprenticeship with Adventures In Missions ends February
9, 2011 and I keep getting the question, "what's next". Well...here it is.
February 9th will be the last day of work for me
here at AIM (yes, supporters, you can all breathe a huge sigh of relief!). I am going to be staying in Gainesville
to live in this community around these amazing people, but I will no longer be
working for AIM.
My hope and my dream is to start doing more work with
glass. In college my minor was Art
with an emphasis in stained glass.
During the end of my time at college I started working a lot with the
kiln and really enjoyed it.
Working with glass has been a secret dream of mine for a while now and I
figure now is the best time to go after that dream!
My time with AIM has been amazing! I will ALWAYS be an
advocate of The World Race and Real Life.
They are programs that have changed my life and I thank God everyday for
the people I have met and the things I have experienced because of this wonderful
organization! I have been changed
because it exists. So, to Seth
Barnes (the founder of AIM), to Michael and Kathy Hindes (the directors of the
Race and Real Life), to Allison Johnston, Kelly Chadwick and my boss, Jimmy
McCarty, to all of my amazing co-workers, and all the people I have had the
privilege of meeting...THANK YOU.
You have blessed my life in ways neither you nor I can fully understand.
To every single person who has supported me...YOU have changed
my life! Your encouragement and
your unfailing support have meant everything to me! I could not have done the Race, led a Real Life trip or
started working here in Recruiting without you. Each and every one of you means so much to me. Thank you for loving on kids in other
countries. Thank you for holding
babies who have been abandoned.
Thank you for letting woman know they are important and loved. Thank you for showing God's love all around
the world. Each and every one of
my stories is your story. THANK
YOU.
This is not a complete goodbye...I'll be around the office
until February, I just wanted to make sure I didn't forget to tell you all how
much you have meant to me. My
heart is so full of joy and I wish you could feel the gratitude that I am
feeling right now. I wish I could
send it in a box to each and every one of you, but I can't do that. What I have is this blog and I hope I
can adequately express in words just how thankful I am!
With that said, I need to raise $3,005 by February 9th! I know it is a lot of money in a short
amount of time, but I also know that my God can provide! Please consider partnering with me in
my last few months here financially.
I know many of you cannot give financially and I understand that. If you could just send up a prayer
today to place this organization and myself on peoples hearts that would be
wonderful!
This is a blog by current Racer Stacey Compton. I hope as you read it your heart breaks a little more for the nations like mine did. This is why The World Race exists...to do something about the injustice in the world.
I've been sitting in front of my computer, staring at the screen and waiting for the right words to describe the state of my heart. It's just me in our bedroom, forced to sift through my thoughts. Sylvia calls me to the living room for lunch, so I re-focus my eyes and crawl out of bed to join her and the kids. My mind still seems to be in a haze. I sit down to begin eating, then look up and realize that Sylvia has asked me a question; she's staring at me and waiting for a response. I force a smile, answer her question, and tell her thank you for the delicious meal. Sylvia asks me if I'm tired, she can sense something is bothering me. I tell her everything's fine, then join in the conversation at the appropriate times throughout lunch and retreat back to my room; my mouth is trained to speak the right words, but my mind is far away from me since yesterday.
Yesterday. The day God decided to break my heart; the day I felt like a tidal wave crashed into me. The day God decided He could take the scales off my eyes and expose me to the gravity of the world's problems. The day I breathed in the stench of mud puddles filled with feces. The day I walked the streets of Luongwe with Jeremy and was overwhelmed by the people around me; a drunk man tried to take my grocery bags from me, a young girl ran behind me and pulled my arm while asking for money, and a group of teenage boys followed us to the gate of our house, ignoring the fact that we asked them to leave. Those parts of the day barely scratch the surface of the array of experiences that I had.
Earlier in the day, Jeremy and I went to town to buy groceries and check e-mail. I've been overcome with tiredness the past few days, so my mind was in a fog as we walked down the sidewalk lined with elderly women begging for food and money. In a sense, I feel like my mind has become numb to the poverty surrounding me; it's now normal for me to be asked for money twenty times a day, normal to hardly ever eat meat, normal to pile in a small bus with thirty people and various kinds of animals, normal to take a shower with water out of a bucket, and normal for me to lay my head down in a house with no electricity. It seems normal because it's been my life for the past 5 months, but that doesn't mean poverty is acceptable. It's 11 months for me and a lifetime for these people.
As I was walking down the street and wondering if my heart had become hardened to the conditions around me, I saw him; a young teenager, no older than 15, lying dead on the sidewalk. It looked as though he were sleeping, but his motionless body position and the flies swarming around his head told me otherwise. I diverted my eyes, stepped around him, and continued walking. I told myself I couldn't do anything about it and thought surely someone would move his body to a proper place.
Several hours later, we walked down the same sidewalk. I'm going to name the young teenager Peter, because it seems like his life was meaningless if I continue to refer to him as a nameless boy. Peter's body still lie on the sidewalk; someone had taken the time to cover his face with a jacket, but no one had moved him.
As we walked past, I noticed two boys around the age of 7 sitting on a pile of rocks a few feet from Peter's body. They shouted out Mazungo (white man) to us, ignoring the fact that there was a dead body separating us, took a sip of their Coke, flashed us a cheesy grin, and continued chattering to each other; something broke inside of me during that very moment. I grieved for the loss of innocence of those children; the fact that they are non-chalant towards death and unfazed by things that take my breath away.
I tried to focus on finding the bus stop and attempted to forget the image that was burned into my mind; my stomach was in a knot and I was sure I would vomit at any second. I couldn't help but wonder if anyone was looking for Peter, or if he even had a family that would miss him. How many children in the world live that kind of life? A life robbed of innocence and care-free giggles.
I allowed myself to feel the hurt of the people around me in Ireland and felt like my heart was being wrenched inside of me; I wept for what seemed like days, a pain that I didn't want to feel again. But, these people don't get to choose whether they experience that pain...it's their reality. For the first time since then, I gave myself permission to fall apart; permission to cry out for the people that live in this despair...the people that are so often just faces on a poster or a television screen.
I don't have a 3 step solution to solve the inhumanity and injustice in the world. I don't know where to go from here. I'm only one person, but I do know that I've seen and now I have a responsibility to DO SOMETHING. I do know that I'm not the same person I was 24 hours ago. I do know that one person can start a ripple effect of change in the world. I do know that I asked the Lord to break my heart for what breaks His; He answered me in a less than ideal way, but He still answered me nonetheless. I've gone from counting the costs of what God is continuing to speak to me about the plans for my life, to counting the times that I hear God say to do more....something I've tried to ignore and go on with life as I had it planned. I don't know where to go from here, but I'm taking steps forward towards the person that God is calling me to be...and that's a start.
This is a blog written by Ginger Larson who is currently on the field. It's too good not to repost! Enjoy!!
The way they grab for food with their grubby hands, dirt under their fingernails, it aggravates me.
I was squeezing a package of black refried beans into the pan - kind of like how one rolls up the tube of toothpaste to ensure every ounce is used. Pleased with my thorough squeezing technique, I tossed it toward the trashcan. Josue intercepted it. He motioned if he could have it. I shrugged. Really, could he get much more out of it? If he could just wait a little longer he was going to get a huge plate full.
Later that afternoon, I saw the black bean package again. It had been forgotten, thrown to the ground outside. This time it was ripped to a flat sheet of plastic - no longer a bag - licked clean.
I confess, I get angry when these boys grab at food in the kitchen, when they demand more food or juice. After making the menu for the week and the grocery list and accounting for just the right number of bananas, bread slices, pasta and rice, etc - I'm a bit of a little general in the kitchen. The grocery store is at least an hour away. But then I have to remind myself that these aren't normal teenage boys. "Don't they trust me that I'll give them a plate of food in just a minute?" Trust. They don't know what trust is.
They usually don't get food unless they dig for it - in the trash. They don't know their father. Their mom used to be a prostitute and now is in and out with a boyfriend that lives in the dump. Their home has three walls. If they were to say they were hungry, who would they tell? If their mom was around, she'd probably tell them to go dig.
I've never hungered like they have. They don't have a mom or dad who plan well-balanced meals, make sure they brush their teeth, take a bath and wash behind their ears. The only shower they get is when they visit us at the farm, which is a slow, cold trickle.
God showed me this week myself in the boys. I do the same thing those boys do. Not trust. Stock up because I don't know when I'll get a "taste of America" again or a reminder of home.
And beyond that... emotionally I do the same thing those boys do. Their actions represent my jealousy. I envy a friend with a plan for his life or a friend who is getting married - thinking that my God has forgotten me. I'm jealous of a God-encounter that a teammate has or the way God speaks so clearly to someone, thinking that God is holding back on me. That He favors them more than me. I don't trust that my God is good 100% of the time. I worry about the future.
I'm acting like I don't have a good Father who has a good plan for me, who loves me. I'm trying to write my own story, grab my own "food" - often from the trash. He does know best. And He's asking me, "don't you trust me, I have something better for you. A big, well-balanced plate full."
The truth is God IS good 100% of the time. He hasn't forgotten me. He isn't out to rip me off. He has a plan for me.
He isn't ripping you off either, my friend. He has a good, good plan for you.
Will we trust Him?
Will we not hoard our food, our things for fear of what the future holds - or doesn't hold?
Will we not hoard happiness and good things to ourselves but instead trust that our God is a good, loving Father who gives good gifts at the perfect time?
I have no idea how to start this blog except to just say it...I
am in desperate need of support! I
am currently at the point where I will not be getting paid if I do not get more
support in. Please pray and if you
feel led to give you can support me online through this blog. (Click on the "Support Me!" button to
the left). You can also send
checks to:
Adventures In Missions
6000 Wellspring Trail
Gainesville, GA 30506
Make sure you put Audrey Powell in the memo line.
Thank you all so much!
I'll leave you with a blog current Racer, Leslie Redman wrote. This is what you are doing in the world! You are being His hands and feet. His lap, arms and words. You are helping send people out into the world who come back changed!
Thank you!
"We're currently staying at the Kid's International Ministry House in Pa Ming, Philippines. The other night Tara, Theresa, and I got to help the older girls shower and get ready for bed. Once the girls were showered and changed into their pajamas, Theresa read them a bedtime story. After that...lights out. We gave each girl a hug and kiss before sending them to bed. And they came back. Not a big deal, one more hug, one more kiss. And then they came back again. And again. And again. We must have given each girl at least a dozen hugs and good night kisses before finally tucking them in.
We went outside on the front steps to pray over these girls. I was (am) so broken for them. I wonder how often they're hugged and kissed. I wonder how often someone takes them by the hand, looks them directly in the eye, and tells them "you are so beautiful". They're so thirsty for that love and attention! But as I hold them and tell them how beautiful they are, their response is always, "no, you are beautiful". These girls want lighter hair, whiter skin, etc. It's funny because I have lighter hair and skin, and I would MUCH rather look like these beautiful little girls. Which makes me wonder...
As my heart breaks for these girls, for their inability to see their true beauty, can I relate to God? Every time I wish my curly red hair away, does God's heart break? Every time I wish I were taller, thinner, had different feautures...does God's heart break? Has God been trying these last 22 years to tell me that I'm beautiful? Have I been ignoring Him? Have I cheapened His creation? His blessing? His delight in me?
This morning, i'm deciding to change my mind and attitude about all this. Not just for myself, or for the girls here at the orphanage...but for my King. Father, I've cheapened the works of Your hands. I've second-guessed the unique and individual beauty of Your creation, and i'm sorry Father. These girls are so beautiful. My team is beautiful. And so am I. Thank you for the blessing of beauty, God. Give us your eyes to see it. Amen!"
There is one Christmas song that I love more than the
rest. I have loved it since I can
remember. Maybe you have heard of
it..."Grown-up Christmas List". I
was contemplating the other day why I have loved this song for so long...I mean,
I can't even use the word "like" when I talk about it, it has to be "LOVE"!
As a child I think I liked the song because I longed to be a
grown-up and had so many expectations of what that meant (now that I'm here, I've
found it's nothing to be overly excited about!!). But, I also think it was because even at that age I knew
that there were things going on in the world that hurt people. As I have gotten older there is a much
larger spectrum of "hurt" that I have found and it makes the song mean even
more to me...
I think about woman
and children I have met who have been brutally raped, beaten and left for dead
and I pray that...
no more lives
are torn apart.
I have amazing
friends who have headed into the military and then been deployed and I pray...
that wars
would never start.
I think about family
members who have been so overwhelmed by deaths and I pray...
that time
would heal all hearts.
I have met so many
people who feel they are alone in this world and I pray that...
everyone would have a friend.
I think of my
beautiful Otim in Uganda and all the other people who have been devastated by
the acts of Joseph Kony and his army and I plead...
that right
would always win.
I think of marriages
that have ended and I pray...
that love
would never end.
But...is this kind of a world even possible? Honestly, in
the world we live in today...could we make this happen? Could we as the church stand up and say that it's not
right...that the things going on in the world, the injustices that we see are not
right...and could we DO something about it? One of the lines in the song that
sticks out to me is:
"What is this illusion
called?
The innocence of youth?"
Is that really what the song is...an illusion because of youth
and innocence? Or...maybe...just maybe...we
can actually make a difference.
I've added a video by Amy Grant singing "Grown-up Christmas List" in case you don't know the song...which would be very sad!! (Sorry the video is so old...kind of entertaining though!)
One of the lies I have believed for so long is that I am
forgettable.I can't even count
the number of times I have met someone and when I see them a few days later they
have no idea who I am.I've come
to realize that is what I expect.I expect people to not remember me.I brace myself for the moment when I have to introduce
myself yet again.
There is one instance that stands out in my mind most
clearly.I had met a particular
guy who I went to college with on three different occasions.Each time I met him, he would introduce
himself to me and then ask me my name as if we had never met.He just so happened to show up at the
wedding of a friend.I was standing
with my parents when my dad struck up a conversation with this particular guy.My dad was telling him that I
was thinking about participating in a mission's opportunity through our
college.So...the guy turned to me
and introduced himself...again.There was a moment where I had a decision to make.I could introduce myself for the fourth
time or I could let the guy know we had in fact met before.I chose the later, shook his hand and
said "yeah, we've met...a couple times." I remember feeling so embarrassed that
my parents had witnessed what I had hoped they would never know about me, that
I didn't have my dads charm and my moms beauty that draws people in, that I was
in fact a "forgettable" and I was so incredibly sick of feeling that way!
The other day Liz, Matt and I were driving in the car on the
way to a recruiting event.Matt
and I were talking and for some reason he said my name... "Audrey".It took me by surprise.I was shocked...he knew my name.Then, a couple days later I was in a
meeting with my boss, Jimmy.Again, the same thing happened.He said my name... "Audrey".I was so shocked that I completely lost focus of what we were talking
about because he had called me by my name.Why was I so shocked that my co-worker and my boss knew my name?!
I think part of it goes back to the lie that I am
forgettable.I think the other
part has to do with the desert season I have been walking through.I have mentioned in two of my last
blogs that I am in a season of walking through a dry/lonely season but I still choose to believe in God. The thing is that in the midst of the season I seem to have forgotten who I am.I have lost what little confidence I
had before this season started.
The crazy thing is, I'm kind of okay with that.I know that God is going to restore
me.I know that He will tell me
exactly who I am.He will speak
His truth and life over me.By
saying I am okay with not knowing who I am, I am not saying it is easy.It actually hurts more than I could
have imagined.I just know that
God redeems and He would not take me through this for no reason. It is so easy for me to tell the orphan and the widow that they are not forgotten and that God will never leave them or forsake them. It's a little harder to tell myself that same truth.
My name is Audrey.I was named after my Grandma Audrey.My name means "Noble Strength".I really like my name.
Bill Zeller was a talented programmer. . . He took his own life. . . and left an explanation that I think it's important you read.
