Listen

There are times that something wells up within my soul and I don't know what to do with it.

If my soul had a breath, it would steal it away.

Times that I am overtaken by something bigger than myself.

It is a richness of getting life at the core level of what it was simply meant to be:

Love. Authenticity. Simplicity. Falling. Fearing. Getting up. Rising again. Grace. Mercy.

"To the degree of mercy you have been given, so is the level of compassion you will bestow"

Thomas Keating.

I am overtaken sometimes by the richness of life.

I am overtaken by the amount of Mercy I have been given.

And I never want to forget.

I am not overtaken by the pain. Not the heartache. Those parts I have seen, and I have wept for.

I am overtaken by the radiant beauty that can come out of that.

Stories.

Of a mother taking in a boy who killed her family in the genocide after her journey to forgiveness - because his family was also killed. He had no mother.

Now he does.

Stories.

Of two lost boys of Sudan who happened to meet in a refugee camp as boys. Now leading their countries in beautiful ways into peace and healing.

Stories.

Of a little girl who is teaching her parents the meaning of unconditional love and healing their marriage. She has Downs Syndrome. Pure Love.

There is Truth in Redemption. There is Story in Song.

It's all around us. Inside of us. Covering us.

Can you hear it?

Listen.

It's there.....

Greetings of thanks from Congo….

….. and Rwanda and Sudan and Kenya and Uganda! I would love to invite you to take a short trip into my journal with the eXile international team in Africa over the past few weeks. See into the hearts of some beautiful children who have survived war. Watch for the hands of God. Listen for the songs of glory. Hear their hearts of gratitude for the support you have given. We could not do this without you. We are thankful! So are they!

CONGO Day 3: “I am writing this from DR Congo where we just left 60 boys who were once forced to kill. 60 boys abducted by 5 different rebel groups. Thirty of them are part of a program at The Peace Lives Center that exile international is excited to partner with. I don’t have words for today. Only an overwhelming feeling that True Life lives in the center of redemption, and God’s grace is an ocean that He is ready to baptize us in.

We have just come from the mountains of Masisi. Having to practically talk Didi into taking us because of recent violence and riots this week. A few aid workers were killed not long ago. We watched with full hearts as 30 once boy soldiers became men of peace. Last year we washed the feet of these boys following our art trauma program. We prayed for each one individually and gave them bibles. Their FIRST Swahili bibles!

Today we drove with them into the mountains and sat beside of them as they washed the feet of 30 more former child soldiers who are the next “peace team” to receive trauma care and peace building training. I watched Augustine as he sat at the feet of these boys; both of our hands in the water. Him washing one foot. Me washing the other. Both praying a prayer of peace. The water was as dirty as the depth of their scars, and the bonding I could feel with my spirit was untouchable. Redemption at this level is just breathtaking.

“We thought we would die in the bush, but now we are bringing peace. It is God’s vision”

These boys usually sleep three to one twin bed. Teenage boys. No mattresses. Their floor is broken lava rock and their beds are mats on bamboo sticks. But at least it isn't the bush. At least they didn't wake up next to their guns this morning.

But because of generous donations (and Jessie raising funds for her birthday in lieu of gifts) this year was different. THIS year, we built a new home for them! Side by side. Because of YOU, we were able to buy new beds with mattresses. Because of YOU we are able to make sure they get healing groups for their war trauma each week. A few more thousand dollars, and we can build concrete floors in the homes over the broken lava rock. About $7000 more dollars and we can purchase the land next door to build more homes one day! God continues to be faithful….

“The new boys in the transit center heard about the Peace Lives Center. They heard of the boys singing at church and living again. They asked to come. Many ask to come, so we pray for the room to take them in”

Thank you for helping us help them! We are deeply grateful and wish you a beautiful weekend of giving thanks with those you love. Stay tuned for more blogs, and we invite you to our next event The Snow Ballhttp://www.snowballnashville.com Dec 8th at Cannery Ballroom. Come hear more of our new projects!

His,

b

I am no one. I am everyone. I am you.

“Is it dangerous where you are going?” I lay beside of her in her bed. We just finished a peaceful bedtime story. Her eyes get big. She loves adventure. What do I say? The answer is yes. Usually when people ask me that question I say “Dangerous is relative and we are always careful” But I look at her and remember the two aid workers who were killed not long ago in Congo. I know the elections are this month and that we have cancelled the trip once. I look at her and my eyes get teary. Man, I love these kids.

“Not SO very much!” and I tickle her.

Sometimes I feel like a girl with a dream. Sometimes I feel like a women with a burden. Much of the time I feel as though all that is around me, surrounding me, inside of me is too much to carry, and I crave to be held. To be normal. But I know that is not what I was created for. I was not created to be normal. A normal life isn’t always possible. But it doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful. More than beautiful.

I see in these children the power of the redemptive love of Jesus. I see in them hope for this world. It is so much more than just saving a child from the bush or helping them to believe in themselves again. It is even more than changing the course of a nation by teaching them about peace, healing, and honor at young ages. It is learning from them. Knowing that if a child who has been raped by soldiers at the age of five can be a leader of her community…… if a boy of 10 who was abducted and forced to kill in unspeakable ways can later become a man who desires nothing more than to speak about peace and God’s love – then THERE IS HOPE. There is hope for all of us who have been wounded to be transformed into something beautiful.

As I type this, I am entering into a journey. (Rwanda, Congo, Sudan, Uganda) Typing out my heart over large bodies of water is becoming a favorite. On my way into something great and mighty. Into His heart. I am going into this trip asking not only to be used, but to be changed. I am not perfect. I am filled with selfish mistakes. I am a sinner. I am a warrior. I am small. I am thoughtful. I am thougthless. I am intensely selfish. I am selfless. I am overwhelmed with joy and goodness - not of my own accord. I am no one. I am everyone. I am you. And you are me. And we are WE. And when we walk in the ‘we’ – the world gets changed.

We can do more together.

Me. You. Them. Him. Are you ready?

Blinded by Sight

When the moon is quiet and the night is still, there comes a breeze that plays the leaves in the treetops like a soft symphony. Rustling becomes chords of natures' bells as they dance in the rhythm of the moment. And there is no one. No one but my soul and these stones and this moon. My bare feet follow them - inward inward inward. with every step there is surrender. With every breath there is solace. With every moment there is anticipation. The Center.

My footsteps are guarded and intentional. A tension of wanting to run inwardly toward the middle of the maze and a slowly soaking in of each brick. Brick by brick. Thought by thought. Prayer by prayer. The wind plays with my hair and my eyes close. stopping out of a knowing of an unknown. Feeling my toes along the cold stone and somehow knowing where to place them.

Surrender is so sweet when Trust is our Shepard. Faith lighting the pathway. Though we are blind. Yet we can see.

My heart seems to be beating in rhythm with the treetops now, and I begin pretending the breeze in my face is the breath of God. Drawing me toward the still place in the center. Calling to my spirit. To be still.

To be still.

I remember this

"In the case of God's holiest servants it is always the whole life which is the prayer. There is no need of an unnatural straining at the realization of the presence of God, but only for a quiet remembrance of the abiding presence."

My feet are dirty from the earth and they are wet from the dew and they are covered with the darkness of the night and I close my eyes again. Breathing deeply as I reach the center. And I kneel. I am most at peace when I am kneeling. A weakness of safety. Going back to a conversation a few days ago....

"So why are we here? What is the purpose of all of this and of life? Of living"

I sat. I looked down. I looked up. I looked into her eyes. And I said something like this.....

"I'm not sure I have it all figured out. I am very sure I don't have all the answers. But I am at peace with knowing that I do know this. God put His heartbeat inside of us when we were created and our soul becomes torn along the way with holes. Eternal holes that we try to fill with earthly praise and approval and mountains that never stop growing. But His heartbeat never stops. It beats when we are living out His love and for something much bigger than we are. Let Him love you. Love others through the shadow of that love. And Let yourself Love Him back. Sometimes that's the only thing that makes sense to me"

I open my eyes in the center and smile. I think if I laid down and hugged myself tightly, I might just fall asleep. I love it when I am the only one here. But I am never the only one here. And I am always the tiny one searching. Searching for a greatness beyond my comprehension.

I hope I never stop searching.

"Earthly Love I crave. Spiritual Love I yearn for. Soulful love I live. And I will live. Because I have decided not to die. I have decided."

I will not look away

I am. Cold. I am. Amazed. I am. Bewildered. I am. Dizzy. I am. Small. I am. Thirsty. I am.

Drowning

In

Something I don’t have words for.

But I am not blind and I will not looking away.

I will not look away.

These past few years have been an adventure to say the least. But I come back and back and more back to the same spot. To the same place in the dirt. Looking over the shoulder of the drawings of the Savior and as He pondered before He spoke to the stone-holding crowd that surrounded Him. As He drew. And as He thought. And as he wondered before He

Spoke.

And I am wondering and pondering and drawing in my own dirt. My mind goes back to a little girl I saw in Fido yesterday morning. She was around three. She was a beautiful Asian little girl. Her frame was tiny. Her hair was messy. She was looking up at her daddy in the middle of the doorway.

“Can you see me now” Smiling. Giggling. She was in the middle of everyone in the middle of the door way. For all to see. You could not miss her. Taking one step back…

“Can you see me now, daddy?”

“Yes, I can see you.” He smiles. Of course he could see her. How could he not see her. She takes one tiny step back again.

“Now, daddy? Can you see me now? Can you see me?”

“Yes, honey. I can see you.”

I soak in moments like those. I often take a picture of them with my heart. Seeing past them. Seeing into them. Seeing through them. Into something bigger.

Just coming from an opportunity to walk with the Resolve staff and advocates in Washington DC. Speaking up for the tens of thousands of child soliders and handing off hand written letters to President Obama. Some said many words. Some said few. Some drew pictures. Some stayed up until 2:30 in the morning drawing hearts and flowers. Many created handmade envelopes to go with them. Sealed with scriptures hand picked for “His Excellency President Barak Obama”. Some asking him to pay their school fees : ) All coming together to truly ask one thing. Through all of their words, they were asking….

“Do you see me? Do you President Obama? Do you see?”

“We are here and we are orphans. We have been suffering as children of Northern Uganda. The LRA came and killed our parents. Some of us have died. We have been in much aloneness” - Barbara

“Do you? See me?”

No, it wasn’t their words. It didn’t have to be. But that’s what they were asking.

Dear His Excellency President Barak Obama….. Do You. See Me? And do you care?

I am on this airplane hovering over what seems to be milliions of miles of empty, unknowing, untouched, blind water. And I am going to the City of Peace. The Hague. The place of Justice.

And I will bring with me these children’s hearts. And I will bring with me these children’s scars. And I will bring with me these children’s stories. And I will stand before them. And I will look them in the eyes and I will ask

You. You ladies and gentlemen…..

Do you?

See them?

El-Roi

There are so many names to God. So many beautiful, powerful, strong, courageous, fearful, honoring, awing, lovely words for The Creator of the Universe.

But there is one that is my favorite. One that captures my heart and my soul.

El-Roi

THE GOD WHO SEES ME

The one. The Alpha. The Omega. The Spirit of the Soul of Living. The Author of Life and Love and all things good and perfect. The Giver. The Taker. The Breath of Love. The Creator of Kindness. The Judge of Justice.

He sees you. And me. And them. And He hears their stories and he holds them as they cry and he peeks into their future and He. He will not, ever look away. He refuses. He cannot look away. And He cannot stop crying for them. He cannot and He will not.

And I, my God, and my breath. Will not either. I will not look away. Because I see them.

I see them. I see.

Then there were two...

There is something funny about watching a sunset. It’s like you’re at the movies. Scenes change. Colors blend. And you watch. And it changes. And every day it’s different. I am at my computer at this table by myself waiting for my chicken burrtito. Watching the sunset over to my left and the family of seven to my right. One of the little girls comes walking up to me. She is around 4. Staring at me. With my computer and my glasses on. She is singing. But she doesn’t know what she is singing. She probably doesn’t even know that she is singing at all. She is in her own world. The lights comes on that are twisted around the tree next to her, and it scares her. She stops singing just for a moment. And then starts back again. And stares. I smile at her and wink. Her mom looks at me

“Is she ok?”

“Oh yeah, I’m just enjoying her singing. She’s great.”

Their kids (5 girls) go off to play in the sprinklers and just mom and dad remain. A once vibrant table full of little girl laughter and tattle telling all of a sudden becomes empty and then there are two. Him and Her. Mom and Dad. Husband and Wife. And they become quiet.

“Do you think when she’s five she’ll grow out of that?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.” He laughs.

They are quiet again. And quiet. And more quiet. And I realize. It’s That. And more than That. But it’s That. The quiet. The unknowing. The who are you when it’s just me and you. It’s that part of us that used to be best friends and laugh and dance and have cookie dough fights. Who are we now. Who are we without them and the beautiful (and sometimes ugly) chaos that comes along with it. And why are we afraid to ask…

“Who are we now and how do we become who we were?”

Talking with one of my mentors the other day I was told this, “You have to stop doing couples therapy. You will never ever open up your heart if you don’t. You have seen too much and experienced too much. You need to be around Kindred Coupleship.”

Kindred Coupleship. What beautiful wording. It stirs a drawing in my soul. And a craving for a best friend to walk, run, dance, cry, argue, love, stumble, climb, and fall through life with. But it’s the fear of doing all of THAT with someone who used to be your best friend, your kindred spirit, your Someone – and then they just become Some One. They become Mom rather than Wife. They become Business Partner rather than Best Friend. They become Housemate rather than Lover.

Evolution is real. You either evolve more into each other and into the Kindred Coupleship and less into the Self or you blend into Separate Lives. It’s a Choice. It’s a Push. It’s a Pull. It’s an Intentional Dance of Learning how to Love Well and Nurturing Kindred Coupleship. It’s a Fear.

I had a revelation the other day about that.

Being brave only becomes courageous if you look Fear dead in the eye and meet it face to face. It’s not brave if you aren’t afraid of it – regardless of how dangerous it is.

What is your greatest fear? Rejection? Vulnerability? Flying over a big body of water? Taking chances? Settling?

I am not afraid to go to Congo. I am not afraid to go to war zones. I don’t know why I’m not – but I’m not. I am not afraid of what adopting a little girl from Congo might look like as a single women one day. I am not afraid of judgements or opinions of others. What I realized is that I’m not afraid of the easy things to me - but maybe I am afraid to let go of my heart and let someone take care of me. maybe i am afraid if i do, it wont be valued or treasured, and as long as I am afraid, I am in bondage to my fears.

I am writing underneath the moon now by the ocean. It’s waves are singing to me and I am calm. I am at peace. I am where I never thought I would ever be in life: happy. Not because life has looked like I thought it would. Not because everything I thought would happen has fallen into place. Nothing I dreamed would happen in my life has. Very little of my childhood dreams have come true. But happiness has come from the joy of simply realizing it’s not about me. It’s about Him. It’s about walking in the humility of the cross and drinking in the drops of servanthood and sacrifice for a Love greater than any unmet need or fallen dream I might have had. And maybe that’s what it comes back to…… The girls are back now and life is normal again. They are telling stories of their dancing in the fountains and playing in the sprinklers. Mom and Dad look at each other and smile. And I my heart is hit.

Going through life protecting your heart so much that you risk never truly loving is no life at all. Refusing to give up the Self and become settled in order to give yourself completely to one person is, in the end, Loneliness Personified. And refusing to look at the person that is your Kindred Companion and just ask that question because we are afraid to ask that question is just feeding Existance rather thanLoving. You know – THAT question,

“Who are we now and how do we become who we were?”

Because you can. Become who you were. And even better. I tell all couples the same thing when they come into therapy the first session. The question is not if you should stay together or not stay together. The question is not can I make it in this loveless marriage? It’s not even – can I really ever learn to forgive them? To let go of the resentment? That part is up to you….

The question starts here: “How do we become best friends again? How do I find my Kindred Spirit?” Kindred Spirits don’t change. They are not lost. They fade. Kinda like a sunset. It fades away….. until Dawn. Then it rises.

It always rises.

He Said No

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world" - C.S. Lewis

When I was around 11 years old I remember being in gym class. Johnny Gingles gym class at North Elementary School. I said something or did something. I don't really remember what. But I do remember what she said. I remember a girl looking at me and saying

"You're weird"

And at that moment I thought "She's right. I am. I'm not normal" But it's like I didn't care. Or I didn't know I was supposed to care. I mean, I wasn't a social outcast. I liked everyone and everyone like me. But my cloth seemed to be cut a little different. Not much has changed. Except it's been amplified times a thousand. It feels like the more I pray for spiritual eyes, the more He changes my lens and the more uncomfortable normal becomes. It is a peaceful wrestling. There is a deep richness that comes with seeing life from the lens of your heart. His heart. It is a mixture of the pains of empathy tainted with the anger of reality, and drenched in a longing for more of the very thing that puts you in that place discomfort. Feelings of disconnection can run deep.

"I feel most understood when I am by myself" I said. "Really?!" he said. Wait - what did I just say? That's weird. That doesn't even make sense. But nothing was more true. I did. And I do. Like now.....

I am lying here by myself on this beach chair on my stomach by a pool on the 9th floor of a building in the middle of downtown Nashville reading a book. Surrounded by chatter about the latest parties, celebrity gossip, and fashion. How to make more money and climb more ladders. A cute hat on my head and black sunglasses covering my eyes. And I am crying. Crying after reading these words from Shane Claiborne on a trip to Iraq:

"I grew especially close to one of the 'shoeshine boys' - a homeless boy around 10 years old named. Mussel (in Baghdad) ...Day after day...we grew on each other. We went on walks, turned somersaults and yelled at airplanes "Salaam" (Peace!).... Mussel began internalizing what was happening..Nothing I could do made him smile.. he mimicked with his hands the falling of bombs and made the sound of explosions, as tears welled up in his eyes. suddenly he turned and latched onto my neck. He began to weep and his body shook as he grasped for each breath of air. I begin to cry... we wept as friends, as brothers, not as a peacemaker and a victim."

And I wept with them. Lying in my chair a world away. Longing to be in the dirt with Mussel. Craving to be in the street with him. Dirty. There. in Iraq. Who is with him now? He is not a name in a book. I know that now. He is somewhere. He is somebody.

There are some words that should not go together.

Children. Bombs. Guns. War. Slave. Just to name a few.

I close my eyes. Yes, I am tired. By choice, I am transparent. Too many years behind masks and hiding behind locked doors. Life is to be lived together and out loud. Not in the shadows and with hidden tears. I talk often about the fear of the pedestal. I talk openly about past struggles and am candid about poor choices that God has patiently taught me from. He has taught me much and there is no place I would rather be than at the foot of the Rabbi. Living. Learning. Loving. Until it hurts.......

I look down. I read more of Shane's time in Iraq. I read this:

"One day we had a birthday party for a girl names Amal... As we were playing a little game of balloon volleyball, bombs began to explode in the background.... One explosion hit very close. A couple of us huddled down with the little children. I looked at the young teenager who had courage I could only dream of, she looked deep into my timid eyes and said "It's okay. Don't be scared" .. Later when we asked her what she wanted for her birthday. She said "Peace"'

My heart begins to break again. Yes, I am tired. I am tired of coming home to an empty home to cuddle in an empty papazon. I am tired of people thinking I am special when I am not. I am tired of the tug of war that comes with raising monetary funds to meet spiritual needs. I am tired. But

I

Am

Not

Tired

... of this place. I am not tired of this space I am in and this heart that overflows. I am weary of many things. But I am not weary of Love. I am not weary of the heartache that comes from loving until it hurts. The deeper I go into His heart the more I find the broken. The more I find the beautiful. Around every corner. Around every letter I find from a child. Around every drawing of a body. Around every story heard on my sofa in my office. Around every insight of wisdom I hear from the suffering.

Imagining I am walking through the heart of the Savior. I do not see pretty. I do not see neat. I do not see married, 2.5 kids, and a picket fence. I do not see pretty faces and plastic smiles. What do I see? I see the lonely. I see the deserted. I see the depressed. I feel the pains of the homeless who are dying alone. I hear the heartbeat of the homeless child who is shaken at night by bombs. I feel the softness of the mother's hand who longs to hold her baby she has aborted. I taste the salt in the tears of the father who was forced to say goodbye too soon to his son. I do not see the pretty nor the perfect nor the nice nor the neat.

Not in the broken heart of Jesus.

I see the ugly. I see the lost. I see Mary Magdeline. Many men had known her body - but only one man knew her soul. She was abused and turned aside and given up on. And He said - no. No. I do not see you as they do. I do not see you as you do. You will not find that here. Not in my heart.

You are not who you were or what was done to you or what you have seen or what you have done. That is not what I see when I look at you.

I see Me. In you.

I am there. In the street. In the shadows. In the nights of silent tears. In the mirror and the feelings of inadequacy. In the bombs. In the thinking you can't go on. In the hoping you won't. In the fear. In the silence. In the dirt. In the loneliness. In the hiding. I am there. And I See you. And I love you. Scars and all.

I

Love

You.

Father God, there are times that words actually leave me. Times like these. All I know to do is to thank you for breaking my heart. And in a weird way, I ask you to keep breaking it. And for Mussel and Amal and all of those of us who have been, will be, or are being broken. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for loving us. Thank you for seeing past who we see ourselves to be. Thank you for seeing you in us.

I am, gratefully and forever -

Yours, b

To Change the World....

Thank you Katharos Now for the opportunity to share my heart in this article. Website and article below.....

http://katharosnow.com/index.php?pageID=4548_3

Sometimes something touches your heart so deeply that “doing nothing” isn’t an option anymore. It becomes more about finding a way to make a change than it is about finding excuses. Not because the fear goes away, but because the hunger to do Something is deeper than being afraid. My mind told me that the problem was too big. That we couldn’t make a difference in violence that had been going on for centuries. But my heart told me that the very reason young children are abducted and taught to kill is the very reason we want to save them and teach them about peace. Because when you are a child, your heart is delicate, fragile, and beautiful. It is a garden that can either be trampled and burned or nurtured and loved. I realized with a problem so massive, you must start with the smallest child. To teach them they are worthy. To show them a different way. So they grow to be soldiers of peace rather than soldiers of war.
Exile international was born out of a Darkness. In August, 2008 I went on my first trip to DR Congo with an organization called ALARM, Inc. On that trip, former child soldiers asked me to be their mother. Women tried to give their children away to me. I heard stories of boys and girls who were abducted by rebels and forced to murder their parents. Stories of women and children as young as 2 who were raped as a weapon of war. Stories of women who had their children stolen out of their hands by the rebels. I met children so traumatized that they rarely spoke and could hardly show emotion. We visited 5 displacement camps in one day with women just crying to go home. I realized that these people were not only living in true exile, but in emotional exile, as well. They lacked security and stability of the heart. It was a level of hopelessness I had never seen before. I had been to Africa many times, but Congo was like no other country I had been. I think for some people, its darkness envelops you in a way that bonds you to it. You leave knowing you have to play some part it bringing light to her people.
That's how I left Congo. But I didn't know what part I could play or how I would play it, until God seated me next to a three-year-old autistic Kenyan boy on the plane ride home. After two weeks of trying to wrap my brain around everything I witnessed, the people I met, and the stories I heard, this little boy profoundly summed it up for me. In a few seconds, with a few words, he made sense out of my restless thoughts. As he and I stared out the window at the magnificent clouds, he began to repeat something my heart needed to hear: "It is bigger than we are...It is bigger than we are...It is...It is...bigger than we are."
His words settled my heart and my mind. I knew God was speaking to me through this little autistic boy. Speaking to me in a profound and beautiful way that would change how I see the world around me, and my place within it. I thought to myself, "Thank You, God. It IS so much bigger than we are, isn't it? The heavens. And so is Life. So much bigger than we are...but the beauty is that so are You. And You, God, are in the middle of it all." I finally understood that God is in us and with us, through our tears, through our violation, through our orphaned journey, through our loss. He is in the midst of it all. And the hope of Heaven is bigger than the waterfalls of pain. I realized that I needed to stop wrestling with the question "Where are you in all of this, God?" Because the answer lies in the mirror. The question isn’t “where is He”. He is beside of them when they are afraid in the bush. He is holding their hand when they are abducted and running from rebels. He is right there with them on the battlefield and the bullets. The question is not “Where are you, God?” The question is, “Where are WE?” It is through becoming His hands and feet that He becomes alive in us, and we begin to live out the gospel in loving others.

When we begin living for something bigger than ourselves, we find ourselves. We find our purpose - our song. The trauma work we do with the children in Uganda and Congo through art and expressive therapy brings us to life as much as it does them. Much of the program we use was actually created out of what the Lord taught me through my own journey through trauma, depression, and anxiety. That is our dream for the children. That they are not only survivors of war, but that they allow God to use their deepest pains to bring others to life by being the future leaders in their communities one day. To help them to know Jesus – The Prince of Peace.

As an organization, our team has been honored to work with over 800 children. Both through trips we take to offer the art/expressive therapy program and in the support of local leaders on the ground as they do weekly group work with the children. When the organization was founded, we thought it would be a small umbrella of trauma care. God has opened more doors than we have the resources to walk through, and our team continues to be taught that it is by walking step by step that we touch lives. Not in trying to fix the big picture. It’s about touching one heart at a time.
My heart cry is for the children of Central and Eastern Africa and for anyone who others have given up on. I needed someone to believe in me in one point in my life. And because God never gave up on me – I will never give up on these children. I am not special. I am not amazing. I am just a small woman who is doing what I needed someone else to do in my darkest hour – to believe in me. Just to believe in me. Although I fail daily, my wish is to be His heart here on earth. I want to let the Lord use my passions to make a difference, to embed peace in once war torn countries, and to help these kids know that God is beside of them in their pain. What is your heart cry? What passions has God placed deep inside your soul? What gifts has He given you?

I have learned that we often wait and stand back to find our purpose. We wait for our passion to come to life in order to begin living, when He has already given it to us. Our passion is found in living out our purpose, and our purpose is found in living out the gospel. Being the hands and feet of Jesus and loving His children who He places in front of us. One at a time. That’s how you change the world.

Editor's Note - eXile International offers a variety of ways you can help support their work. Go to www.exileinternational.org to learn more about the incredible things they are doing and find a way to be a part of it!

Bethany Haley is proudly Kentucky born and bred. When she is not seeing clients in her private counseling practice in Nashville, you can find her either playing with her nieces and nephew, in the depths of war-torn parts of Africa doing art therapy with former child soldiers or involved in advocacy work in DC. Bethany earned her bachelors degree from Freed-Hardeman University in social work, master's degree in social work from the University of Tennessee and her PhD in counseling psychology at Southern California University. She founded Exile international in 2008 after returning from DR Congo. She laughs loud, loves hard, and lives life as if she has only one.