“Can you imagine how much spit it takes to make mud?” I was asked before the Race..
My friend then pointed out how irrational the idea of Jesus, sitting in the dirt on all fours spitting in the mud could be, and that a man would then let Him put it in his eyes… My friend’s point was that miracles happen with obedience and the simple touch of a believer- and often requires ignoring all common sense.
As a caver, though, I like to focus a few more thoughts on the mud aspect.
This idea has been coming up a lot throughout my year. Any Racer who thinks they are going to enjoy every moment of ministry is going to be disappointed. You see, sometimes things get muddy. They aren’t always what we want. Ministry isn’t wrapped up in a pretty package. And there’s certainly no way one could live this year without some sweat and mud.
Last month is Cambodia was a literal example of this. In the mornings my team traveled to the slum to visit children whose parents left them for the day in search of jobs (yes, even our 3 year old neighbor was left for over 8 hours at a time, while her parents worked, so on our off days she would naturally find us). We visited the children and fed them. So starved for attention, their eyes lit up as they smiled- lips curling to expose their rotting teeth. They crawled all over me, jumped on me, hugged and wouldn’t let go. Their uncleaned clothes, and muddy bare feet transferring all their dirt onto me.
Already fit for a TIDE commercial, these children added food spills to their clothes, and once finished their rice soup, jumped into our arms, sometimes two at a time, for a walk to the water pump. There my team bathed them. I’m not sure my bath times were ever filled with such laughter and play.
I sat in homes on stilts, looking down through the one inch gaps between bamboo slats at the ground 5 feet below, hoping the thin pieces would hold my weight. The palm leaf walls served as a refuge from the heat, but the walls were wearing so thin that finding shade was, at times, impossible.
As I walked away from the slums each day muddier than when I came, I was chased by cleaned children. They returned the same ignorance I had earlier, to the mud that could cover them with a single hug.
I don’t know who received the miracle during these visits, they or I. But what I saw is that sometimes the muddy option, no matter how uncommon- sensical it is, is where the most beautiful miracles can come from.
It’s in our worst times that the greatest things can happen. It may just take a little more spit and mud to start seeing the beauty…
For video on this experience, check out my last blog
