A paradigm shift has slowly occurred in our house over the year or so. Layers have been peeled away. Eyes have been opened and worldviews have changed. Hearts have been broken and tears have been shed for people we have never met, in places we have never visited.
We have felt a stirring in our hearts courtesy of that mysterious Holy Spirit whisper.
We have prayed to be His hands and feet.
We have prayed to learn to love like He loves.
We have prayed for opportunities to serve. In our own community or around the world. We’ve prayed for our path to be clear and for our feet to move.
These prayers have led us to our path of adoption. They have also led us to experience moments of transformation in our hearts. Moments in the midst of our everyday, ordinary lives.
We were given the opportunity to show tangible love to the children of our community through the distribution of new shoes {children also received new backpacks, school supplies and sacks of groceries}.
The real beauty?
Shoes weren’t distributed from a nameless volunteer behind a table. They were lovingly placed on the freshly cleaned feet of each and every child.
Each child experienced the act of having their feet washed while listening to stories of Jesus and learning of the significance of this seemingly mundane act of foot washing.
Beauty in the midst of the ordinary, the mundane.
A sacrificial act of love and mercy and grace.
The sacred moments with each of these children concluded in prayer.
It was an incredible event. The children beamed as they tested out their new shoes. I watched as, over and over again, a child would rise from their seat with a smile of pure joy on their face. Each child would take a few tentative steps before jumping in the air, testing the limits of their new soles.
Because of the overabundance of volunteers {what an amazing problem to have!}, I served as a greeter for the majority of my time. I spent the time talking to the children and their families preparing them for the experience to come and rejoicing with them after they received their shiny, new shoes.
I did have the chance to wash the feet of one precious little boy. Michael was shy and a little unsure about the entire process. He timidly allowed me to wash his feet and talk with him. As he set his feet back down after having them dried, he accidentally hit the tub of water causing it to spill and soak the floor {and my pants} completely. As the floor was being mopped up, I wrapped my arms around the shoulders of that sweet boy, along with his brother Noah, and prayed over them.
That sweet moment will forever remain in my memory. We stood in a puddle of water surrounded by noise and people shuffling back and forth to find shoes of the right fit as we prayed. In the midst of all of the distractions surrounding us, we had a moment of silence and peace. Jesus met us in that moment.
Beauty in the midst of the ordinary.
Coincidentally {or not at all, I know God’s hand was all over this}, the next morning, Dave and I led our Sunday School class in a discussion surrounding the topics of Jen Hatmaker‘s book, Interrupted. We discussed our call as the Church to set aside our personal ambitions. To set aside the desire to have the best church campus, the best worship music, the best Sunday sermon. And, instead to strive for solidarity with the poor, sacrificial compassion and tangible action.
We watched this video {well worth the ten minutes to watch, I promise} where Jen discusses the call on her and her husband’s hearts to become a “barefooted church.” A church where you literally leave your shoes at the altar when asked to give to the homeless community and walk out into the cold morning feeling your Savior’s arms wrapped around you. {Jen had this experience while visiting a small church in Austin and knew that was what the Church was meant to be}.
The most profound words in the book for me, were a message God sent to Jen’s husband loud and clear: “You can trust me when I call.”
Dave and I are learning this truth time and time again. We can trust our ever-present, sovereign, walk-on-water Savior and King. Our Abba.
Earlier this week, I again felt God’s leading to trust Him. To be His hands in the midst of my ordinary life. I was in a hurry to arrive home after a long day of work when I drove past a young homeless man in a parking lot holding a sign asking for work. I drove by feeling strongly that I needed to do something. I prayed for God to lead me. He led me to turn at the next place on my right – Chick-fil-a, to purchase the man dinner.
I was afraid because I didn’t know what to say to him. I simply handed him the meal and he proceeded to explain his situation. He had kind eyes and I felt a prompting to get his name and number to give to Dave. He was in desperate need of work after losing everything when his small business failed. Dave knows he can find him work and will do so. I don’t know where it will lead, but I knew that I couldn’t drive by and not stop.
The song that played on the radio as I drove away was “If We Are the Body” by Casting Crowns…
Why aren’t His arms reaching?
Why aren’t His hands healing?
Why aren’t His words teaching?
And if we are the body
Why aren’t His feet going?
Why is His love not showing them there is a way?
There is a way
Please don’t misinterpret this post. I’m not sharing any of this to prove how great I am. Believe me, I’m not. I’m selfish. I’m short-tempered. I’m impatient. I’m scared of risk. I’m afraid to choose the wrong path. I don’t like change. I like comfortable {I adore comfort and coziness, in fact}. I am 100% a work in progress.
Despite all of that, thankfully, God has been doing the hard work of transforming my heart. He is allowing me to see His children as He sees them. And, I can’t unsee what I’ve seen. I can’t go back. I have to seek Him in all things. Only then will I see the beauty in the hurt. The beauty amidst the pain. His beauty in the ordinary, even in the mundane.
