Messengers Here and Abroad

Upon returning from an overseas mission trip I often find the need to make sense of all the things I encountered. I think it’s important to process. If the Lord reveals Himself to you and you do not take the time to fully think it over, then how will you ever remember the truths He presents to you?

So, I’ve been to India. This year, in fact, I was in India for two and a half weeks. I feel like I experienced the height of culture and the lowest of poverty. I felt confident going to the Dominican Republic would be a breeze. In some ways it was because I had seen some of the things before, yet it was so different. I thought I loved the Lord in India, but man, do I love Him even more now; and the things he chose to reveal to me are so different.

At first I struggled to find purpose in the work we were doing. I believe that loving on children is important, and there are kids out there who need it desperately; but I began to wonder if that was all I had travelled there to do. Was the gospel being preached enough? Was I living with purpose? Was my time there worth it?

The next day, after all these thoughts flooded my mind, we visited a village of Haitian immigrants. Before we got off the bus, our translator informed us that this village had about 5 buildings/homes with about 50 people, not including children, living in the village. They didn’t have anywhere to use the bathroom, so we were supposed to watch our step, because we were stepping off the bus into their toilet. He also told us that these people didn’t get very many visitors. As we exited the bus, people began to gather under an awning coming to see what we had arrived to do.  Having prepared for a VBS, we had to improvise a little with some songs and games as mostly adults had gathered there.

As I looked out on the crowd I saw the faces that are draped across trendy cause-wear t-shirts, television commercials, and news features surrounding us. I looked in their yellowed eyes. I felt their sun-beaten skin and calloused hands. I swated at the gnats flying all around mine and the children’s’ faces while everyone from the village paid no mind. I saw a man donning a shirt that read “sexy queen,” but to him all it spoke was function, for he could neither speak English nor care in the slightest about fashion.

We began to sing. Our youth pastor has made us sing many times, “Singing in the Rain,” where you do the motions and by the end of the song you’re dancing around like you’re a little kid. By the time we were to the end of the song, I glanced out at the crowd and saw an 80 year old man with his thumbs up and his tongue out, humming the tune while swaying back and forth.  As I looked into the eyes of people who lived in homes made of corrugated metal, and wore only clothes that were the cast-offs of someone else, I realized that my daily life, my problems and my fears look nothing like theirs. We have nothing in common. But through song, a translator and mostly, the Holy Spirit, we brought life, joy, hope, and most importantly the gospel to a discarded group of people. We were able to love a group of people whom it seemed the rest of the world had forgotten even existed. It truly felt like something Jesus Christ would have done.

For those that say it would have been better to send money over instead of ourselves, I dare you to look in the eyes of those people, and ask them if that’s what they would prefer.

As I returned home I did become more grateful for the things I take for granted every day. I can go to any water fountain in this country and get water to drink that won’t harm me and I have a toilet and a shower I can use any time I want.

While out during the day, each of us had brought snacks in our bag, and we had gathered them together to give to the Haitians at this village. It was just little snacks, which to be honest we most likely would have thrown away because they got a little squished in our bags on the trip. Each person graciously accepted our cast-offs as a gift. Try giving away your bag of smoshed Lays to the business man next to you on the plane and he’ll look at you like you’re out of your mind.

Though we come home with this grateful feeling, I believe it’s necessary to come back with something more than simply that. If all we take away from such a trip is only to say, “Thank you God for giving me such better circumstances than all those people I met this week,” I believe we’ve missed the point.  Instead we MUST come back saying, “Thank you God, for revealing yourself to me. Help me to simplify the way I live my life and find a way to serve people where I am as much as I did in the time I was away.”

We are messengers of the Good News and I believe if we fail to proclaim that in our everyday living we cease to believe that it’s the answer to all our questions. His plan for salvation has worked, so let’s live life like we believe that. Wherever we are.  

Graveside Poetry

This morning I attended the burial service of a young lady whom I had never met. It was an interesting experience to be able to observe without having any personal history or emotional thoughts running through my head. I was able to watch a family grieving and the process with which they said their last goodbyes. As the family was seated in six folding chairs that formed a semi-circle around the grave, I stood behind them and surveyed the scene; I watched as loved ones hugged and comforted each other as best they knew how. I learned which woman was the mother based on the sound of the sobs that could only be produced by a grieving mother devastated to be outliving her daughter. As she hugged other family members, I looked on feeling like an intruder watching what were most likely the saddest tears this woman had ever cried, hit the top of the fake grass carpets laying a top the grave site that soaked up all her pain.

What really struck me in all of it was the metaphor that the whole experience seemed to portray.

After a time of grieving, the family sat and looked at the box that held the remains of their loved one, unsure of what to do next. They peered around at one another, looking and asking to see if they could find the man they had talked to earlier:  the owner of the cemetery who knew how all these things were supposed to work.  He stood off in the distance. The man was solemn-faced and wearing sunglasses.  He stood behind us, just patiently waiting to be called upon. He said he would be ready when they signaled him. As I watched the family look for someone to help show them the way to properly send off their loved one, I could not help but compare the entire situation to our relationship with God.

The family took their time and grieved, cried and spent time together. The pastor spoke a few words from scripture, and offered a prayer and a few comforting thoughts; but when it came time, we needed the owner to show us the way. He waited patiently in the background until we gave him the signal that we needed his help; and he came quietly over to guide the process. 

The clean cut, brawny young man, lifted up the turf-like carpet to reveal the old wood that created the pedestal that the pure white box had formerly sat upon.  He showed us, that the covering which had provided a nice looking grave site, once removed, simply covered a piece of dry, dirty ground in which a hole had been dug.  As he began to lower the box into the ground, he did not do it alone. He prepared the ropes so that the family could lower the box with him.

I don’t know why, but in that moment the Lord revealed a picture of his wisdom to me. I have been learning to appreciate the poetry and beauty that lies in our relationship with Christ.

We wander around this earth, not sure exactly what we’re doing a lot of the time, or if we’re doing it right. We look around to family, to ministers, to books, and ask to see what we should be doing. Then, we remember there is a man we talked to earlier about things, and he told us that he would show us the way if we would only call on him. When we do, he comes promptly, and removes the carpet covering all the falsities that we’ve believed for so long and reveals to us the bare truth underneath. It’s sometimes something hard to deal with. It is those times when you don’t think you can cry another tear onto that green carpet that holds all your hurt; but when you give him the signal that you need his help, the Lord comes quickly to your aid. He guides you in the process of finally letting go of that struggle, but he asks you to take part in the work. He shows you the way, then helps you in the process. You do it together because he knows that you will appreciate the experience more if you are the one doing it, but he understands you cannot do it alone.

I am amazed at the true wisdom that the Lord possesses and blessed when he reveals even just a piece of it to me in times like this. How great is the Lord on whom we can cast all our cares. He will come and show us the truth, the process, and then help us to our end goal. A somber morning indeed, but the Lord is near. Let us all remember that He is waiting for us to give Him the signal that we are ready for Him to come in and help us heal.

Psalm 145:18 The Lord is near to all who call on him