Several times in the past few months a visitor has asked if their coming to Missions of Hope really matters. Is it really worth it they ask. And of course we say yes, because it is worth it and it does matter. The last person to ask this really wanted to know why and how. How their team made a difference when so many others have been here doing VBS, a medical camp, Bring the Light, etc. And to that I replied that it seemed like a big container that was being filled one small teaspoon at a time. Every drop of water fills the pitcher slowly by slowly, and at times it can be hard to see how one small amount makes any difference. (Disclaimer, those words must have come from the Spirit because I had never really thought about it that way before-thankful He gives me words to speak).
Every time someone comes and plays games, shares Bible stories, songs, snacks, hugs with these kids, it matters. You pour. When people share the light of Christ in the homes and the community, the pitcher fills a little more. When teams spend time with the staff washing their feet, encouraging them, training and assisting them, getting to know them etc. Another teaspoon goes in. When you eat in our home and allow us to see this place and this ministry through your eyes, you pour. When teams return to their homes and share about their trip and ways to get involved, the water in the cup rises a little. When you leave and are never the same again-you guessed it-more pouring.
For those of us who remain, there really isn't a day that goes by where we are not aware of how much the pouring in matters. We see happy children who are still excited by your visit. Kids who remember the songs and memory verses you taught them. We see new schools being built as a result of your giving. We see gifts and such sweet letters being sent to the students as sponsors build a beautiful relationship with them. We see the Business department work tirelessly to keep up with all the new businesses and loans happening because of BigDent. We see people finding hope in hopelessness. Living in the light of Christ.
As Americans, many of us tend to be task oriented. We want to see the end results, a project completed, some numbers to share. I know this very well. Kind of embarrassingly, I delight in my to-do list being completed. I even give myself little check marks as I complete a task. I am really finding the beauty in the slowness of the cup-filling. The planting seeds but perhaps never seeing the harvest. This isn't about what I or you can accomplish. What we can tick off a list, but about going and just doing. Allowing God to complete this. A reminder that He has the control. Long before we came and long after we are gone, He is still about the cup running over. About fruit. About eternity.
Keep pouring. We may not always see the pitcher filled, the fruit harvested, but it's happening. Slowly by slowly. Drop by drop.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Sunday, September 9, 2012
The Distance
Yesterday, I was blessed to go to coffee with Kathy (CMF missionary) (side note: so thankful to live in a place that I can get some awesome treats). As we were chatting, she asked how we were doing. I think Tim and I get asked this question at least 4 times per week. She asked about various stages of culture shock and which one we thought we might be in-if any at all. After a pause, I answered her with a "we just feel normal." And we do. As I left the house that morning to meet her, I thought of how it just feels like regular life here. We have a routine. Certain routes we take. We buy groceries, veggies, meat at "our" places. We work, come home, make dinner, chill, go to bed. We get frustrated. We would be lying if we said we didn't. We get confused, feel uncertain, get sad. We miss our families. Our friends. But like I told Kathy, in this we have this peace and this joy unlike anything we have ever experienced.
It is so strange too because this peace and this joy are just there. They seem to just hang in the air unnoticed. We aren't generally bursting with joy, yet we feel it in the depths. The peace is just a regular everyday calmness. Perhaps it is the ease of normalcy. Until we are asked about how we are doing we hardly think about it and yet we know it's there.
The other day someone we love posted this verse on facebook Matt 19:27-30 and said it caused her to think of us (what an amazing compliment). As I read those familiar verses, I couldn't help but think of the joy we have been given since we got here. How, even though we miss those we love SO much, we are at peace. This makes me love Jesus even more. We are asked to follow. To be obedient. We aren't owed anything by Him, we have received life forever which is more than enough and YET He gives beautiful gifts to us so abundantly. So richly. And for Tim and I, so often. In this, some things barely feel like a sacrifice, but more like awesomeness! Who are we that we get to do this!
But today, we feel this sacrifice. In our hearts, it weighs so heavily. We got a message yesterday that one of our closest friend's father passed away suddenly. In that moment, we wanted nothing more than to hop in the car and go to them. To hug them, to love them. To take their kids to the park or something so they could mourn together, make arrangements, whatever. And we can't. No matter how much we are aching for this, it cannot be done. So we must rely on technology to connect us. And most importantly, prayer. I have spent most of the morning praying for them. Praying that Jesus will give them so many people to do the things we want to do but can't. He will because He loves them. And so A LOT of other people.
Today this distance has settled in our hearts. It feels funny. We feel so in the middle today. We want to be there, but yet want to be here. We can't have both. We love life here, but miss people there. Both of these things are okay-yet they feel conflicting.
In January, we will have a new nephew. He will likely be a year and a half old when we get to kiss his face, hold him, change a diaper. Those are now our realities. What a paradox our life is now. As we navigate this new normal, we are so thankful for the riches poured out on us and on those we love. Thankful for pizza, chicken wings, and belly laughs with new friends. For coffee and pastries with someone I look up to. For technology so we can see the faces and hear voices of the ones we love. For ease in transition. For frustrations and uncertainties that cause us to seek out the face of Jesus. For reliance on the Spirit dwelling in our hearts.
Today the distance feels far. Today the paradox is so real, so fresh. Please, please lift our friends up in prayer. If you know who we are talking about, please love on them a little extra for us.
It is so strange too because this peace and this joy are just there. They seem to just hang in the air unnoticed. We aren't generally bursting with joy, yet we feel it in the depths. The peace is just a regular everyday calmness. Perhaps it is the ease of normalcy. Until we are asked about how we are doing we hardly think about it and yet we know it's there.
The other day someone we love posted this verse on facebook Matt 19:27-30 and said it caused her to think of us (what an amazing compliment). As I read those familiar verses, I couldn't help but think of the joy we have been given since we got here. How, even though we miss those we love SO much, we are at peace. This makes me love Jesus even more. We are asked to follow. To be obedient. We aren't owed anything by Him, we have received life forever which is more than enough and YET He gives beautiful gifts to us so abundantly. So richly. And for Tim and I, so often. In this, some things barely feel like a sacrifice, but more like awesomeness! Who are we that we get to do this!
But today, we feel this sacrifice. In our hearts, it weighs so heavily. We got a message yesterday that one of our closest friend's father passed away suddenly. In that moment, we wanted nothing more than to hop in the car and go to them. To hug them, to love them. To take their kids to the park or something so they could mourn together, make arrangements, whatever. And we can't. No matter how much we are aching for this, it cannot be done. So we must rely on technology to connect us. And most importantly, prayer. I have spent most of the morning praying for them. Praying that Jesus will give them so many people to do the things we want to do but can't. He will because He loves them. And so A LOT of other people.
Today this distance has settled in our hearts. It feels funny. We feel so in the middle today. We want to be there, but yet want to be here. We can't have both. We love life here, but miss people there. Both of these things are okay-yet they feel conflicting.
In January, we will have a new nephew. He will likely be a year and a half old when we get to kiss his face, hold him, change a diaper. Those are now our realities. What a paradox our life is now. As we navigate this new normal, we are so thankful for the riches poured out on us and on those we love. Thankful for pizza, chicken wings, and belly laughs with new friends. For coffee and pastries with someone I look up to. For technology so we can see the faces and hear voices of the ones we love. For ease in transition. For frustrations and uncertainties that cause us to seek out the face of Jesus. For reliance on the Spirit dwelling in our hearts.
Today the distance feels far. Today the paradox is so real, so fresh. Please, please lift our friends up in prayer. If you know who we are talking about, please love on them a little extra for us.
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