Friday, March 11, 2016
16:30
We all have assumptions about international missions trips. In fact, perhaps as Christians, we fantasize a little too much about the work God does in countries we don’t live in. I fell into this category. Each missionary I met through my life gave me another picture of this glorious far off land that God worked more than He did where I currently resided.
The World Race was nothing like I expected. The hardest part about this statement is I have no ability to crush those stereotypes by explaining how my Race did go. God works in so many unexpected ways that one must simply go when He says, “Go.” From there, God will lead. Expectations will not be met, but God will bring glory to His name and that is the greatest mission we could ever hope to accomplish.
“The schools canceled. It’s up to us to decide on another ministry for the day.”
As my team leader, Abel, explained the situation I wrinkled my nose in distaste. It certainly becomes common to hear those words: it’s up to us. I came to the Philippines ready to go, to serve hard, but here I am just trying to find absolutely any way to work.
The idea to do worship in the plaza came from another teammate. All right, I like to sing and hey, I don’t have any better ideas. With that, we hopped in a small, rickety trike to our destination just 10 minutes away.
We immediately sought for a shaded spot to pull out the guitar and begin. It didn’t take long for God to change our plans. Just barely finishing our first song, another tune filled the air. Who knew they did Zumba in the Philippines? Well, I suppose God did. He needed us somewhere else that night and nudged us out of the plaza for the evening. Time to go.
When all else fails, prayer walk. At least, that’s what came into our heads. After a few turns in the road, we numbered just three. The rest of our team had gone in different directions to cover more ground. My heart reached out to this generous culture that cared so respectfully for each person on our team. The smiles rejuvenated my soul as we stopped to introduce ourselves to many along the way
“You should continue along this road. Just barely a 15-minute walk and you’ll encounter some beautiful, open fields.”
With that, the Mormon missionaries who had been chatting with us took their leave. We listened to their advice and walked the distance. At the end of the road unfolded the open fields recommended earlier, but that isn’t what made my face beam. The streets flooded with children playing. Basketballs shot through the air and bells could be heard from the bicycles gliding past.
I can barely greet someone in Tagalong, let alone have a conversation with him or her. Despite what would be an obvious language barrier, a young seven-year-old girl approached me with a sunshine-kind-of-a-smile. It’s as if laughter and words flowed together while this dear child tried to communicate with me. I couldn’t help but stop to bend down, look at her sweet face, and gaze a little bit deeper into her soft brown eyes. After a few more attempts at conversation she realized the inevitable. Instead, she took my hand and walked alongside of me as we continued on our road.
Once one child latches on, there are sure to follow many more. I feel as this could have been a verse in Proverbs because of the amount of accuracy it holds. In a flash, Marissa, Greg, and myself were found engulfed in an amoeba of joyful, Philippine kids. Our feelings began to react to all of their exuberating joy and quickly we were caught in the laughter, jokes, and silly faces.
The commotion caught some of the adults’ attention also. A man waved us over, quite curious about what we were all about. His light English didn’t achieve a large amount and the conversation almost concluded with a slow walk away. Luckily, JK stepped outside. The 12-year-old took hold of the issue at hand and rescued our broken effort at dialogue. We explained through JK that our mission in the Philippines was simply to share Jesus.
Our montage continued through the street with chatter and song. Eventually, our collaboration was at a stop while the three of us Americans led song after song. The music slowed and I took the opportunity to ask my followers if they would be interested in a story. The yes reverberated through the streets.
Well then, a yes it is. I pulled my Ipad from my purse. Marissa encouraged our kids to sit down. I stepped into the moon-like shape the group had formed and selected the good news story on my app. I read to these dear children about our fall. I read about sin and how painful it is to have lost such a beautiful relationship with the God who loves us so deeply. I read about the Son who chose to come down and die in order to show us the ultimate example of love. On and on I read, about Jesus raising from the dead and returning to heaven. Finally, I asked a question: would you like to be a part of God’s story?
As the words left my mouth, the Spirit filled my being with gratitude. This month, the Spirit didn’t give me some glamorous service project that I’m pouring into. He didn’t give me a large church that I could teach in front of. He didn’t even give me a busy schedule so I could feel as though I was accomplishing a lot. What He gave to me far surpassed any of these grand missionary ideas and that gift was this beautiful cluster of children who I could invite to be eternal children of our heavenly Father. I am blessed by the work that the Lord has assigned to me despite the fact it looks nothing like I anticipated.
