I just live here.

It seems that in fact we live as if we should give as much of our heart, soul, and mind as possible to our fellow human beings, while trying hard not to forget God. At least we feel that our attention should be divided equally between God and neighbor. But Jesus' claim is much more radical. He asks for a single-minded commitment to God and God alone. God wants all of our heart, all of our mind, and all of our soul. It is this unconditional and unreserved love for God that leads to the care for our neighbor...

- Henri Nouwen, Show Me the Way (emphasis added)

My call is not to serve the poor. My call is to follow Jesus. I have followed Him to the poor.

- Mother Theresa

I sometimes get stressed out during very normal-seeming conversations.

People find out I "work with refugees," and—this is the good part—they ask lots of questions. I love it when people are interested in this sometimes invisible-seeming population. I love hearing that people want more information, and want to be involved. I could talk about global refugee issues and the specific community here and individual refugees and cross-cultural interactions all day.

The problem is when they ask me about what I actually do. Their questions echo the questions I've been asking myself since I moved here. I feel this pressure, real or imaginary, to justify the fact I've been here five months, and I don’t have any more of a defined goal, or a "ministry model," or a vision for large-scale need-meeting, than I did when I arrived. Assuming that people expect plans and details, I panic slightly:

"Um, no, I'm not officially here with an organization."

"Well, I just got here recently and am still getting a sense of the community, what's already here, and figuring out where I fit… [enter nervous rambling]"

"Well, 'what I do' is kind of vague at this point. I'm volunteering in some English classes, and trying to build relationships… [more nervous rambling]"

"Um, it's actually kind of hard to identify one greatest need in this community, so, no, I don't actually have a plan for meeting it… [increasingly self-conscious rambling]"

"I don't know." [feeling defeated] "I just…live here."

This week, though, I realized something: I do "just live here," and that's not a bad thing.

I also remembered something: God did not call me to Charlotte to start a refugee assistance program, or develop a productive ministry model, or even to identify and meet needs. God did not call me to Charlotte to help refugees, at all.

God called me to Charlotte to do exactly what I was created to do: To follow him. To seek his face. To give him glory. To depend on him. To love him with all my heart and soul and mind and strength.

God tells me that, loving him, I should love my neighbor. I followed him to a place where most of my neighbors—figuratively and literally—happen to be refugees. They're the people he's placed around me, for me to love, and that's what I'm trying to do.

It's not really any different than in the past, when my neighbors were suburban families or blue-collar workers or grad students or office coworkers. The way to show love might look a little different each place—here, it may be helping someone read a doctor's form, or English conversation practice, or introducing the wonders of over-the-counter decongestant—but both the source and purpose of the love are the same.

I have nothing against structure, or organizations, or programs. I think they could prove useful here. It won't surprise me if I up up involved with them somehow. I just want to get the order of things correct: If God is leading me to join or establish some kind of program, then I pray that I hear and see that and follow him wholeheartedly into it. If he's not, then I pray that I won't join or establish one simply to feel useful, or to have something productive-sounding to say during small talk, or even to meet actual needs.

My call is not to meet needs. My call is to follow Christ.

So, for now, I just live here.

I live here, seeking God's face and seeking God's will, knowing that—although I sometimes get confused and stumble off in the wrong direction—the God I seek is patient and slow to anger, and remembers that I am dust.

I live here, working, and doing dishes, and paying bills, and making friends, and trying to love my neighbors, and sometimes failing, but always—amazingly—covered in and sustained by grace.

I live here, hoping that my neighbors will see God's love through my life among them.

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: "Love your neighbor as yourself."

Matthew 22:37-39