I woke up at 6:45 yesterday. Yes, it was 6:45 in the morning and was probably the earliest I had been up in months. Pulling myself out of bed was easier than I thought because I knew what I had to do that morning. 20 minutes later I was out the door and on my way to Starbucks. I had to shoot myself up with some espresso shots to become more functional, shots that masked themselves inside of a vanilla latte.
No.
It wasn’t that I was afraid of leading worship with morning breath.
Nope, not that.
It was that I hadn’t talked to high schoolers in years.
They’re just a different caliber.
Now I had prayed about what to talk to them about the week before. I knew that I had to share things from my World Race experience because I was specifically asked to do that, but I was also asked to talk to them about leadership, faith and all of the in between.
I talked about identity – who we are as sons and daughters and what we’re capable of once we realized it. I shared stories from Malawi and South Africa; stories about a guy we met who was 18-years-old from the States… and he taught me how to pray.
He radicalized his high school by speaking peace over it each day, just like the disciples did when they entered homes.
Anyway, I did get to lead worship also… and while I really enjoy that, we sang one song because time got cut short and I really felt like they needed to hear the message that God had given me.
I had a girl come up to me afterwards and say, “if my dad was here he would be asking you a ton of questions.” Terrified by what she meant I asked, “why?”
“He was a missionary in Malawi for many years and I’ve grown up hearing his stories, so hearing yours was a huge blessing to me.”
“Awesome!” I said, relieved.
“Yep, he even speaks Chichewa, they’re native language. And my middle name’s in Chichewa,” and she told me even though I couldn’t repeat it to save my life.
Isn’t God good? The answer is yes, He is.
