Sadness.

I think something is happening in my heart.

I think that God, in His silence, is teaching me to recognize His voice. Lately I have felt a great sadness, and I find myself wondering if the Holy Spirit is speaking through this.

II Corinthians 7 has this to say of sorrow: "I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done. At every point you have proved yourselves to be innocent in this matter."

This verse seems to describe me perfectly. In the still moments when I am alone, in comes the sorrow, and with it alarm, deepest longings, heavy concerns, utmost earnestness.

I have the smallest of visions -- things like, "Set an example for the believers in speech[...]", and a great eagerness to see it done. All this, though, is tempered with selfishness, lack of desire to experience change, and overwhelming feelings of worthlessness in the face of the troubles that beset the world.

As I sat in Tyler's room reading "The aWAKE Project: Uniting Against the African AIDS Crisis", and Bridgit lay with her head in my lap, I noticed her WWJD bracelet, and got to wondering. How much time does Jesus spend crying? There are more than 13 million AIDS orphans in Africa, and Jesus loves each of them as much as I've come to believe He loves me. How can He ever do anything but cry over the sinful, sorry state of the world He created to be loved? And how can I, as His child and servant and missionary face so great an evil without my mortal heart just crumbling to pieces? I feel worthless and useless, and simultaneously appalled at my lack of willingness to sacrifice the daily ins and outs of my life to make a difference for people who, for all intents and purposes, died the moment they contracted AIDS, and daily live a hopeless existence wondering whether to try to survive (for what?), or to just lay down and die.

And so here I am. I'm tangled in the midst of this great sorrow, struggling with the Holy Spirit. I feel His sorrow upon me, but I have not yet sensed His direction or His guidance. I'm bothered, and I'm sad.

Come, Lord Jesus.