A Change of Belief                 

What do I believe? This question has kept me up late many- a-nights.  It is a question that scares me. I thought I knew. I believed that if I memorized as much of the Bible as I could it would begin to seep into my heart and then into my actions; then I would really be on track. Guilt would overcome me if my church attendance was not perfect and if I had a bad day, I felt a fake smile would remind onlookers how strong and perpetually joyful I was.

I don't believe this anymore.

I have traveled to many countries on mission trips. I've seen the slums of Mexico and walked through the Bahamian leftovers after a hurricane. I've performed countless days of VBS and even street evangelized. And what I have come to realize through not only my international travels, but also through my interaction with people in Rome, Georgia, that all people need is love. Don't get me wrong, the naked are joyful for the clothes they receive and the hungry are content when fed—but what every human soul craves is love. Love that is unending. Love that sees no color and disregards all types of poverty; whether that be physical poverty or poverty of the spirit. People crave a love that seeks them out and cleans them up, even when they feel undeserving of a second chance.

I believe in love.
I believe the only way I can love others in this way is to cling to Christ and to accept that same love that He offers to me.
Crayons are a fun gift for children in needy countries and unemployed mothers are pleased when an unexpected dinner is provided for their family—but a hug can cure the loneliness that disintegrates the soul. A genuine smile can erase the memories of tragedy, if even momentarily.

I saw this firsthand when I traveled to the Bahamas. These islands are a popular vacation spot, but they are also a site of great loss and disorganization. We brought many donations with us to the islands: clothes, crayons, and food. But what seemed to invigorate the people the most was the time we spent listening to their stories. They set all the physical items we brought them aside and sat us down to listen to their tales. They told us of the damage the hurricanes brought and how year after year they must attempt to rebuild a life that is sure to be swept away by the tropical winds. We cried with them, we prayed with them, and afterwards saw a smile flash across their face that was not there at the beginning of the visit. A smile, a content-ness fashioned from love.

It's not about church attendance. It's not about memorizing words made empty by lack of action. The Beatles said it perfectly: All you need is love. When we love, then we crave fellowship and we desire to dive into the scriptures. I have answered the haunting question that scared me so badly at first.
What do I believe? Love.