News of the terror still rings in my ears.
I can hear the scream of a confused francophone.
My heart leaps, wanting my legs to race towards a plane,
Even years ago when twin towers fell my eyes rarely shed a tear.
With this slaughter, my face is carved with salty rivers.
I dare not test God, but I must obey if he is prompting this travel.
I’ll pray and discern, hopefully.
Some counsel received says that I must put my family first, as if this land holds any more promise of life than another.
“If you love your father or mother more than you love me, you are not worthy of being mine; or if you love your son or daughter more than me, you are not worthy of being mine.“-Matthew 10:37
When will faith become real? When I pray, will I know whether I am hearing God or the megaphone of my emotions? Do I trust God enough to protect me or to provide should I perish? If I did go, how would I even begin to assist?
Here I am Lord, lead me. I am willing and able. Show me the way you want me to take here. Would it further your purposes if I went or is this desire mere foolishness?
Will I be worthy of being his or assert myself and be an eternal orphan, a wandering pilgrim for all time?