I pray for those whom I do not yet know --
my family all across the world who suffer for the sake of the Gospel.
Usually, that's it. I pray. I get up. I leave. I go on with my day.
This morning, it's different.
The prayer is closer -- is deeper --
and somewhere deep within my soul, I feel a restless flame burning --
a familiar flicker from long ago --
an effervescent, evading ember.
This is a restlessness which tells me to
and go -
to get out
This is a restlessness which makes me uncomfortable
because I know exactly what it means.
Deep inside me, I feel my core mourning. It calls out.
It says, "This is not enough, Rachel."
And I am reminded of the times before I have heard my core calling out in this way,
and I think again that maybe I am not meant to stay here.
There is still an impetus to go.
When I pray for that family -- the family yet unknown by me but thoroughly known by God -- my heart aches. I visualize my own small family with them -- being there in a very real way.
God, what does this stirring mean? Each time it happens, I tuck it away --
mainly because you have asked us to stay. But it comes back again and again.
The stirring won't still itself.
The ember won't fade.
Something remains lit.
And I wonder if maybe something else is on the way --
that someday, You will ask us to go.
And please - please make our hearts ready.