I decided to revisit my photos of Ethiopia. I wasn't too crazy about them because I took them with my old Canon Powershot, but last night I processed a few of them and the black and whites really moved me. I can't adequately describe these photos, but they seem to speak for themselves pretty well. Each one is a story.
If you'd like to know more about what is going on in Ethiopia check out International Crisis Aid's website.
First of all, let me preface this post by saying that I've been holding off on writing this for a while. This is kind of a hard post for me to write because it's so personal. Anyway, here it goes...
Looking back I don't know why I thought this road was going to be smooth and the way easily defined. It has certainly been nothing of the sort. I expected a challenge, but I did not expect the inner struggle. Back in September I knew the Lord was giving me this photography business. As clear as day I heard Him say, "Use it for Me. This isn't yours. I give it to You now and I can take it away." With excitement I bought a camera and started out on this new journey. I quite literally had nothing else. For the first month or two I felt so elated. This was one of my dreams and now it was finally coming to fruition. After a while this question started to plague me, growing stronger with each passing day: How do I use this for Him? The details and necessities for running a business became abundant and I wondered if this is what He wanted. With no clear answer I continued moving forward.
Thankfully, the new year brought with it fresh vision. I was at a conference called Passion when the revelation hit me. I was sitting in my seat listening to the stories of those who are enslaved in our world today. I heard lots of statistics, but the stories...they pierced my heart. This particular story was about a young girl from Europe who was set up on a blind date by her friends. Innocent enough, right? Minutes into the date, the guy drugged her drink. He pretended that she suddenly wasn't feeling well and took her outside. No one suspected. He threw her into the back of his car, bribed the man at the country's border and was gone. No one even knew where to look or what had happened to her. It hit me that this could happen to anyone. It became personal. That girl could have been my sister. She could have been my friend. Suddenly she was no longer a number in a statistic. I heard her voice, I saw her face and I felt her pain.
Then, I knew.
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