What do you think of when you think “missionary”? Maybe you think of being surrounded by a swarm of children, teaching them “Jesus loves me”. Or perhaps you picture powerful prayers of healing being spoken and answered regularly. Or maybe even evangelism, seeing people daily receive the freedom that comes with the name of Jesus.
This past month my ministry has been taking a room full of hundreds of tangled up strips of cloth and rolling them into balls. Like I said, sometimes ministry isn’t what you think it would be.
It isn’t exactly the most glorious of tasks. We have sat and worked and worked and worked on a room that only recently has shown even remote progress. Our boogers are blue and throats are coated with dust. For some unknown reason, some of the balls were wet with a mysterious liquid. But I count it all as joy.
Every day we hike up the mountain to a special needs orphanage. At the gate we are usually greeted by one or two residents who shake all 24 of our hands. We then walk down to the workshop where we are greeted again by nothing short of a huge hug and occasional kiss on the cheek. From there we go to our respective corners in a room where the floor is covered in layers of fabric and get to rolling. The fabric we are organizing is used by the residents to make crafts that are sold in town to help support the orphanage. Being the hands and feet of Jesus means serving willingly and whole heartedly in the small, not-so-glorious tasks.
This past month provided for the unique opportunity to pour into my fellow squad mates and have them pour into me as well. Our hands were occupied, but our minds were left to wander for hours on end. We got to engage with each other on a much deeper level, talking about everything from how God has moved mountains in our lives, to our hope and dreams for the future and every thing in between.
It is nothing I could have ever even imagined, but this past month has been one of the richest experiences of my life.
