Stripped and frisked

Hi seems it is me again. I feel as if looking back on month one i have a small sliver of an inkling of what Jesus has been trying to do in me. When you visit a mall here there is a person you will pass as you enter and if you are female it is a woman if male it is a man and they will frisk you ever so gently to ascertain the security of all those in the mall. At first it is uncomfortable but quick so it is bearable. After a few times it is acceptable and you think this is what you must do to enter the mall. When i first entered this new country, i thought arrogantly, "no problem i can handle this i've been to foreign lands, eaten foreign foods hey i am strong i even delivered 5 kids without pain medicine" and then it comes. The realization that i am only fooling myself, that i am weak, that i have never really been strong; i am soft, spoiled, used to getting my way. I have never really suffered. When i meet these woman and men who lay down their lives daily i become keenly aware of my lack. it is like stripping an onion only to discover layer after strippable layer. It seems i've come to this place so the Lord could peel back my own illusions of strength and adequacy. I can do nothing apart from you. it's in the bible but i don't really believe it. It is when i see the faith of men, women, and children who depend on Jesus for their strength amidst true pain and suffering i understand this truth a little more. The openness of Filipinos is shocking to me, i ponder it. Why would a perfectly good stranger share with me so candidly and freely of her pain in losing her grown daughter, inheriting the gift and challenge of raising her four grandkids, and losing her husband all in the last few years? All the while reminding me she cries out to the Lord to give her strength and depends on him because that's all she can do. Another conversation with a dear older woman she shares her heart in broken english with tears of coming into relationship with Jesus late in life and realizing she does not have money but that's ok because she has Jesus and she is loved by him and that's enough. Another man shares of his abusive childhood and becoming a street kid to escape the tirades of his alcoholic father who would tie him up in a sack of rice and beat him. He recounts his motivation for living to seek revenge and kill his father one day, on his journey he accomplishes learning english, becoming educated, earning money and nears his goal until he encounters the one true God, Jesus Christ. Now seeking reconcilation and forgiveness from his father whom he hated for so long, he goes and finds him and asks to be forgiven (even though to me it would seem his dad needs to ask) and breaking his father's heart at the audacity that his kindness and love present, his father tearfully repents and his whole family is reconciled to God and one another. What kind of love is this, what kind of forgiveness, of change of heart? Only Jesus could elicit such a response, who faced wrongful suffering and chose to extend mercy and forgiveness! After hearing such a story, i am broken reminded of how i store a tiny wrong or perceived wrong in my heart and nurture it as if i had a right. I am being stripped of my own false presuppositions of myself and as Jesus tenderly reveals another layer of my sorry heart I am reminded how great he is. How merciful, how loving, how good, how kind, how gentle. It is this invasion of my soul that reveals the hidden and concealed weapons of my own feeble heart. This is good, this is right. I am learning to accept his love even if i squirm.