There are so many things we are doing here that fill my heart up with joy and excitement for ministry. I love people. I love being with people. I love seeing people grow. I love children. I love seeing children's faces glow with excitement when they know they've learned something. I love being approached and being asked by a group of smiling kids when they can come back for the next children's program.
While I love all of these things, and SO many more, there are parts of ministry that are really hard. As a member of a congregation, or just a Christian in general, I always held my leaders to a higher standard, expecting them to be more "holy" because they are pastors, youth leaders, staff workers, etc. Now, in a position of ministry (and not even a huge position) the tables have turned. I am on the other side, and I'm realizing how unfair it all seems. I am no more perfect or holy than ANYONE else just because I chose to say yes to God and follow Him down here to Mexico. I am no less sinful than the man who sells hot dogs in front of my apartment just because I support Faustino and Tomasa at Camino de Cristo.
However true all this is, it doesn't change the fact that I am looked at differently because of the calling God has given me. I know I'm an ordinary person with no special powers or abilities, but does everyone else really know that?
Where does this leave me? Much is expected of me, but alone I am capable of nothing.
I'm realizing that saying YES to God in answer to His call is so much more than transplanting my life and walk with Him to a different place. I didn't just say yes to coming, I said yes to serving God and His people here in Mexico. I said yes to being a support and leader to help grow the ministry and churches here. That requires a whole different attitude. That requires a change in perspective. Saying yes to all those things means I'm saying yes to a package deal.
If being a Christian means that you live your life under a microscope by all who don't share your beliefs, then being a Christian leader seems to intensify the magnification.
I can't be the perfect person they want me to be. I can't be the perfect example they want me to be. BUT with Christ's help, I can be who He wants me to be, and that's what really matters. The hard part is that now that I've said yes, He's calling me to bring glory to His Gospel, and not shame. He's calling me to bear witness to the transformation He's made in my heart.
That has always been the same--always been what He's asked of me. But to do that effectively here, it requires a different form of comportment. I know that I love Jesus and desire to serve Him, but do all my actions show that? Is it evident when I serve in these churches that my Jesus sits on the throne of my heart?
I want to bring glory to Christ's name. I want to show love in real ways. I want to lift Christ's name up with each word that comes out of my mouth. No one ever said it was going to be easy.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
Thankful for indoor plumbing...
So... this is how it went...
A lot of people, with whom I interact on a regular basis, don’t have indoor plumbing, or any plumbing as a matter of fact.
I went to Juanita’s house to make tamales on Friday because I’ve wanted to know how to make them for a long time. I was there from about 12:30 until 7... it was a really awesome time and there was SO much more to the day that this story. But because this is so entertaining... I’ll share this now, and the rest later...
Juanita lives in one of the poorer communities that we serve and has an outhouse outside her house. We were winding down with the tamales and we were getting ready to go, but I decided to run to the “bathroom” first. So with toilet paper and flashlight in hand, I braved it out to the outhouse.
In normal outhouses, just to give you an idea, there are big boards that function as a floor and a makeshift bench with a hole in it... you know what that’s for. This outhouse, however, didn’t have one big board functioning as a floor, but rather had numerous boards that were strategically placed so that the hole below was covered and people could enter in to do their business.
I went in, a little nervous because it was so dark, and hadn’t entered more than a step when suddenly I found myself bracing myself up with my arms, panicing because my legs were both below the floor, and I was eye-level with the “toilet”. I struggled for a bit, in pain from the fall, and after much screaming for help, managed to get myself out.
What happened was that the previous occupant of the bathroom had unknowingly kicked the board, causing it to be unstable. When I stepped in, the laws of physics went into motion and the unbalanced board flipped.
Luckily, whoever dug the hole for this outhouse was not lazy and dug a VERY deep hole, God bless his soul. So my feet were dangling, not kicking around in very unpleasant materials. I managed to get out of the mess without e coli or touching any fecal matter... I just have a HUGE bruise on my thigh, wet hands, and have a few unidentifiable stains on my jeans.
As gross as the story is... I’ve been laughing about it from the second it happened. So be thankful that you have indoor plumbing in the states... or even in Mexico. God taught me not to complain about not being able to flush toilet paper – at least I HAVE a toilet and not an outhouse. There’s never any use in complaining... it really could always get worse.
A lot of people, with whom I interact on a regular basis, don’t have indoor plumbing, or any plumbing as a matter of fact.
I went to Juanita’s house to make tamales on Friday because I’ve wanted to know how to make them for a long time. I was there from about 12:30 until 7... it was a really awesome time and there was SO much more to the day that this story. But because this is so entertaining... I’ll share this now, and the rest later...
Juanita lives in one of the poorer communities that we serve and has an outhouse outside her house. We were winding down with the tamales and we were getting ready to go, but I decided to run to the “bathroom” first. So with toilet paper and flashlight in hand, I braved it out to the outhouse.
In normal outhouses, just to give you an idea, there are big boards that function as a floor and a makeshift bench with a hole in it... you know what that’s for. This outhouse, however, didn’t have one big board functioning as a floor, but rather had numerous boards that were strategically placed so that the hole below was covered and people could enter in to do their business.
I went in, a little nervous because it was so dark, and hadn’t entered more than a step when suddenly I found myself bracing myself up with my arms, panicing because my legs were both below the floor, and I was eye-level with the “toilet”. I struggled for a bit, in pain from the fall, and after much screaming for help, managed to get myself out.
What happened was that the previous occupant of the bathroom had unknowingly kicked the board, causing it to be unstable. When I stepped in, the laws of physics went into motion and the unbalanced board flipped.
Luckily, whoever dug the hole for this outhouse was not lazy and dug a VERY deep hole, God bless his soul. So my feet were dangling, not kicking around in very unpleasant materials. I managed to get out of the mess without e coli or touching any fecal matter... I just have a HUGE bruise on my thigh, wet hands, and have a few unidentifiable stains on my jeans.
As gross as the story is... I’ve been laughing about it from the second it happened. So be thankful that you have indoor plumbing in the states... or even in Mexico. God taught me not to complain about not being able to flush toilet paper – at least I HAVE a toilet and not an outhouse. There’s never any use in complaining... it really could always get worse.
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