Lessons from a booth

On Sunday I was given the opportunity to speak to my church congregation at 3 of our worship services about my missionary journey to Mali.  And after the services I had a booth in the main hallway.  In my mind this was it... the last big support raising push before all my funding is in and I can leave!

This Sunday was one of the most humbling, draining, exciting, anxious days I may have ever had.  I got up in front of over to 1,000 people and looked at their faces and asked them for money.  I asked over 1,000 people to give their hard earned money so that I can do what God has called me to do.  It's a hard thing to do folks.

Of the many conversations that I expected to experience while I stood in the hallway three of them took my breath away.  These were conversations that took me away from talking to potential funders but were conversations that were vital to hear.  I was looking these precious people in the face, the tears flowing from their eyes, as they pour out their hearts.  God allowed me to SEE His broken children, to LISTEN to His hurting people.

The first of these was an older gentleman.  He came to my booth with a determined look on his face.  As he approached me I could see his eyes were glistening.  He told me that for many, many years he felt God calling him to be a missionary but he just didn't have the courage to do it.  So he never went.  He never became a missionary.  He told me I was brave (I disagreed).  Then his attitude changed and he got a cherry grin and declared to me he wanted to be a monthly supporter! 

The second conversations took my breath away.  As she approached the booth I could see evidence of many tears.  She came up and took my hand in hers and wept.  Hand holding was ridiculous... I quickly got my arms around this sweet lady.  She then began to express her thanks to me for my heart for young women who have found themselves in prostitution.  She too has a heart for these women, but for a very personal reason.  At one point in her life she found herself in a marriage to a man who was involved in the industry of dehumanizing young women. As I looked into her eyes and felt her tears I realized that our tears don't come from our hearts... they come from the heart of our God.

The third conversation humbled me further.  A man and his wife came up to me with eager arms to hug me!  I've known this couple and their family for some time and I know a bit of their story.  As they began blessing and congratulating me for this awesome journey the tears began to well up in the man's eyes.  He really wanted to be able to support me.  They both really wanted to be able to support me. I know they honestly don't have anything extra to give and for me their desire to give made my heart glad.  I know they will pray for me.  And that's good enough - I can't really ask for more than prayer, the currency of heaven now can I?!  But then through tears the man told me that during the love offering in the service he gave their last $5.  I just stood their.  Face to face with the "widows" mite.  Face to face with true sacrifice.

My heart was overwhelmed by the time I left the church building on Sunday. 

Biggest lesson I learned through these experiences?  God really stinking LOVES His people and really wants me to LOVE His people.  Oh and this weekend wasn't about me, it was about Him.  But of course you would think I'd figured that one out by now :)