"You're part of a miracle," he said through a thick Scottish accent.
I continued to butter the bread in front of me, and smiled politely. Miracle, a word I would reserve for the medical and unexplainable and here he…was using it to describe me serving buttered bread and instant coffee.
Yet something about his words stuck.
For two weeks, I was woken up by the thought, "you're part of a miracle." Eventually the Scottish accent dissolved and the words started to sound a little more like my own. They were still empty, a bit like reading an essay from the sixth grade- your words, but a you from a time so long ago even you don't recognize them.
As it goes with all thoughts- the words started filling my journal pages.
Question words, doubting words, words that sought to understand this miracle business.
Am I really part of a miracle? words.
Maybe it's the dream of a Christmas miracle or the longing to be part of something bigger than myself. Maybe it's part of my "say yes" challenge or a meager attempt at counting it all joy. Slowly, the doubting words were replaced by desire words.
Each morning my yes was a little stronger.
Each evening, my head rested on the pillow with a little more belief.
And each moment in between was lived with a little more purpose and attempted with a lot more love.
So here's my thought, a two week thesis if you will::
Maybe miracles are Holy Spirit moments. Moments when you get to be part of showing and sharing in God's tangible love.
They can be the just showing up and buttering bread moments-
because the love is in spreading a little extra butter for Matthew and remembering to set aside a few pieces with none for Lisa.
Sharing coffee with a stranger who works up enough courage to show you her art-
and being one of the first to tell her she has a gift. The speaking words of encouragement moments.
Walking with a teammate to the clinic-
without rushing or agenda or distraction, just sitting and being and praying with her. The miracle of healing courtesy of the world race buddy rule.
Or opening up an email at the end of the day to find just the right words-
because our hearts are broken and the pieces are too heavy to pick up and glue back together alone. The relief brought by timely words.
Miracle moments of great love.
Do I stop my team at least four times a week and say, "you guys WE ARE IN MALAYSIA!!!" ?
yes.
But more than that-
what I am learning, is the grace of being part of more miracles than the race as a whole.
I am, and you are, part of a restoration miracle, the gospel miracle, a miracle of forgiveness.
A miracle that doesn't require a Malaysian visa.
Being part of the miracle isn't a choice:: we are because He was and did.
But I can choose to play my part of the miracle in love. I can choose to wake up each morning and say yes to love. Giving love well, responding to love graciously.
Today, I get to live loved and like I'm part of the miracle here in Malaysia. I get to eat lunch with my hands off a banana leaf- I will celebrate Christmas with my teammates by opening up presents of World Race gold peanut butter. My parents live their part of the miracle 9,625 miles away with the same gracious love- it looks a little different, the soundtrack has a different beat… but we were given the same forgiveness, the same miracle.
live like you're part of a miracle today
