the dishes.

-Backtracking just a bit to talk about my final month-

My hands had started to turn pruney and the hand towel hanging above me was far too wet to help with drying them. My feet hurt from standing at the sink on and off for a few hours and as a direct result of counters built at Asian height, my back felt like the 80 year old woman I fear this race has turned me into.

Putting the last plate on the shelt and attempting to dry my hands I turned around just in time to have a few more glasses placed in the sink. The echoing “I’m sorry” was a quarter joke and three-fourths truth. What else could I do but smile and grab the sponge?

You can learn a lot about God’s love through the dishes.

Coming on this race I had these grand images in my head of standing amongst starving children in Africa, building churches that actually required my labor and physical capabilities. I saw myself pouring every last bit of energy, sweat (and with fingers crossed some blood and tears) into a ministry that was changing this earth in extreme ways. I pictured myself just like everyone else probably pictures long-term overseas missionaries.

Not doing the dishes.

But if I have learned anything on the race, it’s to “drop expectations” and let yourself think outside of the box. I’ve learned about lifestyle worship and how my “mission field” is every single place I step. It isn’t contained to a church in the bush of Uganda where we haven’t showered in days and love on children that sleep on the streets. It isn’t only found behind the pedestal where you “bring the fire” to a congregation. It doesn’t stop at the door of a children’s home taht prays for every grain of rice they eat. Ministry doesn’t always stay strict to the hour long foot paved paths to encourage villages that feed you way too much. It isn’t caged to the bar stools of Bangla Road.

It’s in every place, every home, every street corner, every pair of eyes or every child’s smile that you encounter. It’s in every possible way that you may serve. Every dish. Every shirt ironed. Every fence painted or piece of grass mowed. In every field plowed or ditch dug you discover a way to serve not only this world and the people that make is up, but your Father in Heaven.

Ministry is life. Life is ministry.

And if you let your walls come down and your eyes and ears be opened to that possibility, you will learn more than you thought possible. When you let your Teacher actually teach, you’ll find lessons in everything and you will see how everyday you get to be the face of Jesus Christ. You get to be His words and thoughts and actions. You get to be His light.

“…ministry doesn't always look like we think it does…Sometimes we just plant the seed, sometimes we water it. Sometimes we just sit and encourage it to grow. One day we may even get to harvest it. But the point is, we're here and even if we don't see the harvest, Papa is still working in and through us. Whether that means having us grow in our personal relationship so that we are strong enough to pour into people on a regular basis, or paving the path so others may come behind us and dive deeper into what we started, God is present and He is good.”

Whether planting, watering, sitting and waiting and wishing or harvesting, “ministry” doesn’t stop. And in those times of sitting and waiting you might not realize how much you need to be filled up yourself.

So the next time you look at an overflowing messy sink of a situation let God teach you a little something about His never ending love. Because when you get that sink empty, when you yourself are empty. Just wait a minute. He’ll throw another plate in there.