His Story. His Glory. Period.

My life is not my own.

For nearly five years now, that has been both our mantra and our testimony as our family has followed the heart of Jesus to the heart of the orphan. [Well, to six of them, to be precise. Exhibit A: Gorgeous kids on right-->.] Those five years encompass a book's worth of adventures (both the highs and lows) all their own, triumphs and tragedies we could not and would not have written into our lives had we attempted to do so.

We are thankful for the sweet, intimate way God has carried us through it all. We have witnessed the wonderful. Walked the unimaginable. Experienced the painful. Praised Him for the provision. We have rejoiced in the miraculous. We have been filled only to then be poured out. We have given our all, only to receive His all. We have been broken, and we have been mended. We have been horrifically hurt and wounded, but also deeply loved and defended. We have celebrated and we have mourned. And all along the way, we have beheld His glory. His indescribable, unmistakable, irreplaceable glory. (We might even be a little addicted.)

During both of our adoption processes (see www.blessingsfromethiopia.com to read from the beginning starting in February of 2007), I have blogged our lives away, shared our story when asked and even (or especially) when not, shouted out loud for the sake of the orphan, and publicly documented our personal lives for all the world to see. So much good, so much fruit, so many Kingdom ripples came from it all. A documentary (We Have Room) in the works. A book on the very edge of being written. And all of a sudden God said "Shhhhh." Literally. He told me not to speak yet. To hunker down. To turn inward. To sanctify myself. To clean out the closets of my heart. To quiet myself. To listen. To hear. To stop.

And so I did. For nearly two years now, I've virtually stopped putting myself out there. In fact, I have hit the backspace more times than I can count, knowing that–though I have much I want to say–God hadn't released me to write again. God has taught me, ever so gently, to stay in step with His Spirit. He has shown me that a real danger of the social-media-driven blog-addicted world we live in, for better or worse, is that we live life in virtual fishbowls, swimming around as if no one is watching, while all the while many are. Pretty soon we realize we have an audience (how did that happen?), and instead of writing about our lives to an audience, we might unknowingly live our lives for the audience. And so, I knew I had to be obedient to God. At any point along the way, God could remove His favor from me, so I purposed to be extremely cautious about taking a single step outside of His will for me. And for this disciple of Jesus, it meant being quiet in the blog world. Not an easy thing for me to do, but the wealth of wisdom and healing and insight I have gained in return has been invaluable.

Truth be told, as much as I used to blog and am passionate about the written word, I've always been a reluctant blogger. I still crave anonymity and the privacy that comes along with it, but admittedly and  paradoxically appreciate the opportunities that come with putting oneself "out there." At the end of the day, though, I realize that this is not my story; this is God's. When I have much I can say, but He says "not now," who am I to pick up a virtual megaphone and loudly blabber on? And when He says "Speak now; it's time," who am I to shut up, no matter what privacy must be sacrificed on my part?

And so, here I am. Nearly five years after my first blog post was ever penned. Five years after God first spoke to me and said "Speak now" for the glory of the Kingdom, for the story He was about to write. For the story and the glory that are His alone. Who knew then the story He was writing? And who knows now the story that will come? Only He does.

And so I will write again. Because He has released me to tell the story of His greatness and His glory and His power. Of His redemption and unfailing love and steadfastness to us.

True, it is not the story I would ever have written for my life (trust me on that), but I am so humbled that God chose me to be part of it. I'm thankful that this is my life's story after all, for all it was, all it is, and all it will be. And I'm honored that He wants me to tell it.

My life is not my own.

“Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the LORD will do amazing (!) things among you.”  -Joshua 3:5