You know those memories you forgot you had? For whatever reason, one of those popped into my head a week or two ago and it keeps making its rounds. I’ve learned that when these random things pop into my head (Botswana, anyone?), it’s usually not calling to just say hi. So here’s a blog post about it.
When I was in high school, I went to a show at my town’s community center. The show was comprised of a couple of local high school Christian metal-type bands (#Ashland), and then a speaker who was scheduled to give a Jesus talk afterward. You know the drill: reel the kids in with the trendy music then hook them with the Jesus.
There was a 5-10 minute gap between the bands playing and the speaker taking the stage. In a wild turn of events, three-fourths of the audience used the 5-10 window gap to leave. The speaker took the stage, and then he stopped after about a minute into his perfectly rehearsed introduction. He looked around. He started stammering and fumbling over his words, and eventually just gave up on the rehearsed Jesus point he was about to make. At first I thought he was just nervous, but that wasn’t it. He was angry. In a classic example of preaching to the choir, he started low-key yelling at the 10-15 teenagers who stayed after the bands to hear him speak. He was baffled at the low attendance, and he couldn’t get past it. His focus became less about what he had prepared and instead became the kids who left and the frustration he felt. His internal anger was so loud that it took over all of his senses—it spilled out of his mouth, blinded his eyes to the kids in front of him, and covered his ears to his sister-in-law trying desperately to get him back on track. He was completely distracted.
I don’t remember if he ever got back on track and finished his Jesus talk. If he did, I couldn’t even begin to tell you what it was about. All I remember is my sixteen-year-old self feeling awkward and embarrassed as I watched this thirty-something man have a tantrum.
I forgot I even had this memory. For seemingly no reason, it popped into my head. Now, I’m beginning to realize why. Sometimes, I am that thirty-something man. Only it’s not frustration with kids who left and won’t hear my prepared Jesus speech. It’s frustration with fundraising. And if I let it, it will overflow out of my mind and blind my eyes, clog my ears, spill out of my mouth. It will become my distraction—a distraction from my jobs, my family and friends, even God.
I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to be discouraged and frustrated. I have 18 days to raise $3,083, or I won’t be able to go to launch. And sometimes, that seems impossible. But rather than freak out about what I still need, I want to shout thankfulness for what I have. I HAVE $6,917. I HAVE 18 days still to reach my goal of $10,000. I HAVE hope. And when I focus on what I have, I can approach the remainder of my fundraising with an encouraged, trusting, and thankful heart.
There’s this phrase that Jonah uses in his prayer while he’s in the belly of the whale. With a song of thanksgiving. With a song of thanksgiving, I will approach the next 18 days and $3,083. With a song of thanksgiving, I will prepare my heart for August 4th, when I WILL leave Ohio for launch in Georgia. With a song of thanksgiving, I will enjoy time with my friends and family. With a song of thanksgiving, I will trust the Lord that He will continue to move in big ways. With a song of thanksgiving I will tell myself “don’t dwell on this, you need to move on.” With a song of thanksgiving I will look at the people in my life who are telling me “speak to me. I am here.” Because I am SO thankful for all of the support, both financial and otherwise, that I have received, and salvation comes from the Lord.
