Sunday, Apr. 21, 2002 | 8:51 p.m.

i go on mission trips and my reaction is, "why don't i live like this?"

my heart is torn between the inner-city and the third-world. i wish i had answers.

all i know is that i go through the routine, but at the end of the day, my heart knows it's supposed to be somewhere else. in a place where people have nothing. a place where people don't think about which pair of doc's they're going to put on. but instead. where their next meal is going to come from. i want to live in a place where people are real. i want to spend a week painting a church that was just painted two years ago. so that maybe. people will come and see that if some crazy americans care enough to spend their time in such a place. then maybe it's worth checking out. because that's how God works. and even when i can't see it. His plan is perfect.

i'm tired of the pettiness and i'm even more tired of getting caught up in it. i'm tugging on the pant leg of my Father.

"Here am I; send me."