My Greatest Struggle

I have to die to my flesh daily.

I hate to sweat. 

Hate it.

This morning I have had a great time with Jesus preparing a devotional that I will do with the girls at the Children's Home on Tuesday.  So into spending time with Jesus, that I didn't even hear Tori and her friend calling me at the gate.  That is some good Jesus time.

But now, I am trying to get ready for a wedding out in the village.  And it is hot.  It has been unmercifully hot this week.

And it is a reminder that I must die to my flesh.

As I straighten my hair that will soon curl from the sweat running down my neck.

As I try to apply makeup as it sweats off as quickly as I put it on.

And in these times, I must die to my flesh.

Because this family will be so happy that I am there with them.  Even with my sweatiness.

I will slowly sip cold water (because I won't have a restroom).  I will bring my washcloth to wipe away my sweaty face...just like a true Belizean.   And I will fan myself.  (And I will sweat a lot--did I mention that?) And I will rejoice as this couple weds. I will rejoice as this couple sets an example of the importance of marriage.   And I will be there for my husband.  To support him in his complete exhaustion.  As he serves (and sweats too).  But never complains.

And I will die to my flesh once again.  Because Jesus has blessed me with a husband who serves God with even more than he has in him.  He gives it all and then some.

And because Jesus came for these people who live in the hot  little village just as much as he came for me.

And I want to be where Jesus wants me to be.

Even if it means I have to die to my flesh daily.