Last year I attended the National Missionary Convention. We, like a lot of other mission’s organizations, set up a booth to peddle our mission to would be supporters. We field a lot of questions and share, with anyone interested, what God is doing through our organization. I’ll have to admit, one question in particular threw me off. On my way back from the bathroom, an old acquaintance from church stopped me and we exchanged small talk. Not long into sharing my thoughts on our Homes For Hope program, and teens in need of a way out, I was asked pretty crassly, “what makes you qualified to take kids in, how have you been educated to do such a thing?” The question stopped me in my tracks and the awkwardness of the moment got very heavy.
For the second year in a row now, my kids’ junior high small group has done a pretty cool thing on Valentine’s Day. The sponsors lead the kids in holding an appreciation dinner for all of their parents. It’s an awesome thing. They decorate the place and prepare the food to serve. Last year Austin had the chance to serve Darcy and I. This year Marissa (our Apache step-daughter) is a part of the small group. I was getting back late from the rez and ran over to the church just in time to eat. Marissa served us our food and took care of us for the whole hour. This year Carly, the small group leader, tried something new. She made every one of the kids get up on stage to tell their parents how they felt about them. Ok, I’ll be honest, this is usually one of those times when you hope your kid doesn’t get up there and embarrass you and themselves. While other students were stepping up I couldn’t help but to listen to answers through Marissa’s ears. We sat and listened to kids step up and proudly make sincere statements to their parents. “You are always there for me.”, “I love you”, “You take me to my games.”, “You are cool.”, “You understand me and dad doesn’t.”, and so on and so forth. As I listened I only imagined how hard this might be for Marissa. All of these statements seemed to define what her real parents weren’t. My mind wandered a little as I thought of the past failures and let downs through most of her life. I remembered the little girl that didn’t want help, the little girl that ran from home, the little girl born into a family of addicts, the little girl that struggled with cutting herself, the little girl that gave herself away to cheap relationships, the little girl that numbed her mind with drugs.....and meth…and alcohol, the little girl that was born into a world that ripped the innocence from her tiny grip. She headed to the stage with a surprising confidence. And when she stepped up she said some things I’ll never forget.
So why is it that Jesus chooses us? Us, the pitifully inadequate. My heart resonates with the echoes heard from ancient times, God’s chosen. Those laden with lust, greed, pride, envy. Murderers, adulterers, thieves and liars. David, the adulterer after God’s own heart. Jonah, the reluctant missionary who just wanted to sit back and watch God toast some heathens. The guys that followed Jesus down the road and quietly argued about who was the greatest. And so on. I wonder, but deep down I know. He wants all of the glory. When he works through our humble weakness…He gets the credit. It’s the great fight against human nature. That pull to count ourselves more than we are. And I’m sorry to admit that many times it’s only when we bravely stumble into something bigger than us that we recognize our limitations. I’ve seen mine. But then there are those special moments when, without provocation, we follow Jesus like a child. And in those times we collectively stand awestruck at what seems to be such a mystery. When in reality we know that mystery unfolds like a beautiful puzzle in the Word of God. He has explained and instructed us so well that if we see, and live, this life His way we will find heaven on earth, and thereafter. But, lest we take Him at his Word, we sometimes fight the battle with our own strength and mind, and are usually overtaken by the pull of the world. My brother told me a story of his mentor who died recently. The son of this high school coach spoke of how special of a leader his father was. He reminded everyone of how special coach made everyone in the program feel. And it was true, no matter of seemingly insignificant of a role you had, he let you know you were a special cog in the machine. But as his son said so eloquently, ”even though you felt like an important cog in the machine…there was never a doubt whose machine it was.” And so I recognize this truth in my life too. Not only does God make us feel special, He calls us and empowers us to be special. Even when we are pitifully inadequate He works through us and there is never a doubt whose work it is.
She stepped onto the stage and, as tears welled up in her eyes, I could only imagine what all was going through her head as she choked out a few words. But words weren’t even necessary. She could have said nothing. I was caught in the moment. Maybe God provided this moment for me. I needed to know that the sacrifices that we make for God impacts souls, regardless of how qualified we may or may not be.
So here’s to those of you who allow God to work in and through your weaknesses to bless others. And through it all, we know that He get’s all of the Glory because we have not obtained anything with our own wisdom or strength…
Ron Everingham
