“It is far better to give than to receive”— I have heard this lesson over and over again since childhood. When living out of a giving spirit, we all receive that unsurmountable joy that comes from doing a good deed. However, as all things are best in moderation, you can have too much of a good thing. There is a place in this balance where the Mary-Martha controversy comes into play.
Marthas are praised in this day. With chronically busy schedules and a go-go-go mentality, the “mothers” of the world should be placed on a pedestal for all the dishes they clean and hineys they wipe. However, we are quick to overlook the merit in the Marys of the world. Those who take time to receive well. Who slow down enough to see what really matters. Those who note that the dirty dishes can wait to be done and recognize the present more important matters. When Jesus is knocking, who else will there be to receive Him??
The chronic missionary tendency to give and serve (and then give some more) is incredibly true. I live everyday with people who refuse to let it be your turn to take out the trash. Martha, Martha, Martha. Everyday we have these fights. “Let me be the servant!” “No, let me serve you.” There are many independent personalities, and controversies come up naturally when living in community. Believe me, I know there are WAY worse things to be fighting about. But God spoke to me the other day, giving me a good “Earth to Leighton” moment.
Do not fight about anything! You are serving me everyday this year by being here and sacrificing your comfort for Me. The best servant is not the one who is always in the kitchen. Sometimes I need you to just come here. Sit at my feet. Be a Mary. Let people serve you. Receive them well. By refusing assistance, you are prohibiting someone from blessing you.
He seems to be knocking a lot lately on the doors of my heart. Trying to teach me to be a receiver. And when I finally let the blessings come, boy have they come abundantly.
The holiday season has family and home on all of our hearts right now. Pretty much a no-brainer, but it is not fun to be away from loved ones for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I am convinced, though, that the Lord predestined a holiday getaway for me. In our ministry schedule, we have a day of rest and a day of adventure penciled in weekly. “Vacations” are not exactly something the Race is set up for.
But let me just tell you how perfectly God orchestrated this past weekend:
-Our ministry hosts work for YWAM and they went away for their annual conference over Thanksgiving weekend. Of all the 365 days in the year, the three days of their conference happened to fall within the 27 days we were there, more specifically, over the weekend of an American holiday.
-We found super cheap, missionary-budget-friendly flights from Tirana to Pisa on that particular weekend.
-I emailed Robbie Shackelford, the director of Harding’s study abroad program I attended in Florence, telling him we were planning to visit and he BLESSED us…chauffering us to and from Pisa airport, offering lodging at the Harding villa on a Tuscan hillside, transporting us around Florence, inviting us to tour the Uffizi with the HUF students followed by dinner and a nighttime view of the city from Piazzale Michelangelo
-My friend Emily had an extra coat one of the students had left behind! World Racers are firm believers in layers upon layers because we do not have room in our luggage for bulky items. But its cold and God told me to stop refusing blessings.
-One of my best friends, Elle, was just finishing an internship in London and was flying to Florence to meet her mother for a little vacation. Booked completely independently, our trips overlapped by a few hours and we got to have dinner!
We really could not have dreamed of a more perfect weekend. Florence at Christmastime is magical, all lit up with twinkle lights and decor. When you are seeing everything in two days, it’s not so crazy to climb the Duomo dome and bell tower in the same afternoon…so we did. God made the skies crystal blue for us and absolutely picture perfect.
Robbie asked me to speak in chapel at HUF, and it was such a clash of my passions: traveling, Harding, and telling about God’s goodness! I was able to share with the students encouragement that I received from Robbie’s brother, Ken, who happens to be a missionary in Elbasan…small world! He talked about the unique experience it is for us to approach everyday on the Race cupping our hands together ready to catch whatever God drops our way instead of grabbing the day with two hands like a steering wheel wanting to be in complete control. More importantly, he encouraged the fostering of that habit now and bringing the mentality home as a souvenir. Living life like that always. Study abroad is similar. You live your days in a foreign environment with little control over your schedule and no idea what is around the next corner. You have to be very flexible, adaptable, always ready to receive it. There it is again. I challenged them to do the same, taking it home, being forever changed.
With full hearts and bellies (you cannot do Eataly any other way), we returned to Albania early Sunday. While the girls were all indulging in Sunday afternoon naps, I decided to fly solo and attend Ken Shackelford’s church. It was here that God decided to bring my time in Albania full circle.
The first night we arrived, my team sat down praying over the month, and God placed the word “joy” on my heart. Continually, everyday, He filled me. Through encouraging updates on my friend Harrison who is in recovery from brain injuries. Being loved by the gypsy children. Nights with our ministry hosts that made me feel like part of their family. Spirit led bible studies in which He used me as the vessel to speak. Finding out my best friend got a job in Little Rock. Learning that we have been rerouted to Lesvos, Greece for Month 4 to help with the Syrian refugee crisis. Of course, fitting in a trip to Italy. And, this church service was the cherry on top.
It was a celebration. Ken preached on Romans 5:1-6, breaking down the verses one by one and explaining how each was such good news. He repeated and repeated that these promises were GOOD NEWS, certainly reason to rejoice. He spoke of how Albanians celebrate by playing their music really loud, he has noticed. And, he said, in order to be heard when music is really loud, YOU HAVE TO SHOUT.
So we participated in a communion service, where music was played to the Lord, Albanian style. The believers gathered together, praying with one another, thanking the Lord for this good news, for his good, good promises REALLY LOUDLY. People were dancing, singing to the Lord and clapping. The sweetest, tiniest old woman in a floor length coat beat a tambourine with no sense of rhythm but with such passion in her love for the Lord. It was so beautiful to me, I could not hold back the tears.
Here I am at this church alone in a foreign country which I had come to serve. I came to be the giver. I am watching people praising God with complete abandon, celebrating with everything that they have in them. They are giving it all to God.
And I am the one receiving. The tears came flowing. They were tears of joy.
Thanksgiving was different this year… an airport fruit salad does not a Thanksgiving meal make. But Florence is one of my homes, and God gifted me that. He gifted me with familiar faces and relentless hospitality. He blessed me with gelato and a coat. He let me witness Albanian people who have come to love Him wholeheartedly. And in spite of a longing in my heart to be with my mom and dad and brother and sister, I had JOY.
