On The Road To Emmaus...Shaun and Micah

Can I be honest with you?

Sometimes I feel like I just am not getting Jesus.  It's like I read the words...but nothing's clicking.  No pistons firing, no lightbulbs going off, no shouts of EUREKA!!! Just a lot of "BLAH BLAH BLAH" interspersed with some "YER DOIN' IT WRONG!"

The Lord is speaking plain English (I read the NASB...that's how I know it's plain English) but we apparently still aren't speaking the same language.

It's frustrating sometimes.

Then, there are moments of what I would call almost clarity.  The times when I get it but I can't describe what I'm getting, I just know I'm getting something. 

Like back in the '70s when your dad is up on the roof messing with the antenna and all you see on the channel is squiggly lines but you can sorta kinda make out a person...you know something's happening...but you're not really sure if it's Monday night football or a rerun of M*A*S*H*.

(Oh?  What's that you say?  You're too young to remember anything other than cable tv?  Being a good southern Christian woman I can't say things like "Shut. Up." or "I hate you."  So I'll just say, "Bless your heart.")

Then, there are some days, when just like the travellers on the road to Emmaus, someone breaks bread and blesses it.  And the scales fall off of your eyes and you wonder how, HOW could you possibly have missed something so simple?

My stalking victim internet BFF Shaun Groves and his assistant Micah Watson came to visit last evening to sing and talk about Compassion International.  Micah quietly and efficiently assisted Shaun with the sound and video stuff, instructed us newbies on what to do, and got the paperwork in order that would make its way all around the world to let the least of the least know that somebody cares about them.

It's not the type of job that gets a lot of applause or thanks from anyone other than maybe Shaun. 

I spoke with Micah briefly about himself and found out that he has been an itinerant worship leader for youth.

Well...you know...wow.

Here's a guy who has his own dreams, his own calling...but those things are put aside for the moment so that he can be a servant to those who have absolutely no possible way of rewarding him or recognizing him for his efforts.  (Well hello there humility...thanks for putting the smack-down on my ego!)

Then, there was Shaun. 

He had hoped for an audience of maybe 100 - 150 people.  He got 30. (Hey, if you ever need me to promote anything at your church...I'm your girl.  I can attract tens of people.)

Thirty.  I'll say it again.

Thirty.

That's it.  That was the whole enchilada.  And you know what Shaun did?  He sang and spoke with as much passion, as much intensity as he would have had he been singing at the Dove Awards.

Speaking of being blind...come on Dove Award people...get with the program...you guys really need more Shaun Groves'es in your show. (Groves'es? Grovii? Flock of Groves'?)

Guess what else?  Jesus showed up.  He was there in the songs, in the stories, in the uplifted hands and the giving of thanks from a bunch of beggars and thieves who had been transformed and made holy.  He was there as those same beggars and thieves reached out to sponsor kids...strangers from all over the world...because really?  How could we not have responded to a Gospel so plainly spoken...so crystal clear?  So...simple?

Even I got it.

So, thank you Shaun and Micah, for travelling with us for a little ways on the road...for opening eyes and hearts once again to the blindingly glorious simplicity of Jesus and Him all laid down and broken so that the whole world might be made whole.

(And Micah...just wanted to remind you of something I'm pretty sure you already know.   All that paperwork and tabling and sound check stuff? That is not wasted time buddy.  Not at all. Oh, and sorry about the hugging thing.  I tend to get nervous around people who are sort of...you know...famous.  One day I'll have to tell you about the time I ran into the local weather person at Target. Not. Pretty.  Not pretty at all.)

To the two people who read this blog...if you weren't able to be there last night, I'm sorry.  But you can still help.  If you'd like to learn more about Compassion International and what you can do, click on the Compassion logo in the upper right corner.   From the bottom of my heart and on behalf of those who cannot speak for themselves...I thank you.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Almost Famous

Happy Monday y'all!  I don't know if you know this or not, but you are reading the blog of someone who is internationally known.

True story.

I was looking at the stats for this blog the other day and TEN WHOLE PEOPLE have seen it.  And one of them was from CANADA!  We're goin' global baby!

Butterbean and I are on our way y'all.  Soon it'll be nothing but champagne and caviar.

Well, not really. I hate fish, so I'm pretty positive I wouldn't want to eat little fishie eggs. Gag.

Also in the works, my internet BFF and already famous and global soft-rock-star/mom blogger Shaun Groves is coming to visit.  Not me personally, but my church.

He'll be hitting up the big town of Seymour on July 22nd and singing us a few tunes and telling a few tales and hopefully giving us some tips on how he does his hair.

Plus he'll be talking about what he does with Compassion International...which is the TRUE reason he's coming.  Not to meet me or anything.

Even though I'm totally almost famous.

If you happen to be out this way and don't have anything better to do that evening...stop on by and say hey.  Butterbean and I will be there and of course..you know..Shaun will be there too. 

Hope to see you there!

Bread Continued

Since receiving Ara's letter, I've been mulling over her decision to reach for the bread.

Children often see through things so clearly don't they? 

She had already chosen new clothes (being a girl...that's pretty much a given right?) so there were obviously other choices available to her.  Maybe some toys or candy, but she didn't choose those.

She chose what would give her sustenance.

I can't say that I would have done the same.  I would have gone for the candy or a Barbie doll.

Can I be a bit transparent with you here friend?  Can I say to you what is really wrecking me right now?

I have been blessed with so much that the sustenance...the true substance that gives me life...has become boring in my eyes.  My heart tends to wander to the glitzy, the shiny, the empty.  I have not learned how to be content.  My heart starves because I don't choose life and I am often left wanting more.

But there's never enough to fill that wanting.

Isn't that the way of it?  Isn't that what Eve's problem was?  She was fed by the Holy, and clothed in the Eternal, but it wasn't enough.  She wasn't content in her heart and she was drawn away.

Oh boy.

How is it that one pushes a button on the internet, thinking she's going to help be the hands and feet of the Saviour...and then ends up being the one who is being saved?

It is the mystery of grace.

Jesus, in a world of Ding-Dongs and Ho-Hos...help me to choose bread.

(If you would like to learn more about Compassion International, or are interested in sponsoring a child, please click on the link to the side of this post.  Thank you in advance!)

Bread

Opening the mailbox, I see the envelope with the familiar blue logo on it.  Like that scene in "A Christmas Story" where Ralphie gets his decoder pin in the mail, I excitedly grab the envelope, grabbing and squeezing to try to get a sense if it's a letter from one of my babies, or just a notice.

Today's a good day.

It's a letter. 

For a little over a year now, my husband and I have been sponsoring kids through Compassion International.  We have a boy in Ecuador and a girl in the Phillipines.

I hurry into the house, ripping open the envelope as I walk.  I throw my keys down on my dining room table and plop down in one of the chairs to read.  It's a letter from my Filipino baby's mama.  Ara just turned 6 years old in January so her handwriting skills are still developing.  Her mama writes to me for her, with the help of one of Compassion's volunteer interpreters.

"Thank you so much," she writes, "for Ara's birthday present.  She was so excited to go to the Compassion store and pick out her birthday gifts.  She chose a new dress, underwear, shoes, and bread."

Bread?

I read the sentence again.  There it is...I was right the first time.  Bread.  For her birthday.

At the top of the page are little drawings scrawled by little brown fingers.  Little baby hands that should be plunging gleefully into a chocolate cake with thick pink frosting and tearing into birthday presents covered with Barbie wrapping paper.

Instead, she's reaching for bread.

My husband comes in and the words come fast and hot.  "She chose bread!" I say...my voice thick with tears.  My husband comes and reads the letter.  Silently he shakes his head.  He looks away, eyes shiny and gives thanks once more to God for what we have been blessed with.

I hang the letter on the refrigerator which is full of food, some of it wasting away.

My heart is wrecked.  I turn away and do the only thing I can do at the moment.

I pray.

(If you would like to learn more about Compassion International, or are interested in sponsoring a child, feel free to click on the button to the side of this post.  Thank you in advance!)