This is the title of a chapter in a Max Lucado book I remember reading in high school. I've thought of this phrase often this past year as I've transitioned from a clear-cut, rigorous teaching schedule to a happily busy, but much more fuzzy missionary schedule. So much of the time I base my worth on how hard I work and how productive I am. My identity gets wrapped up in what I do rather than who I am.
As an American do-gooder, it's so easy to put on my "Superman cape" and swoop down to save the day, solve the problem or fix something that's broken. What often lasts longer and makes more of an impact in people's lives, however, is an ongoing compassionate presence. Someone to step into the mess, dwell in it, and offer a word of hope. It's not glamorous or flashy. Too often the "results" take years, even generations, to emerge. My work here is not as much about what I do, but rather the person I am, the greater body of Jesus followers that I belong to.
I was reminded of this last week when I came down with tummy troubles thirty-six hours after landing. I was forced to sit, think, pray, refect and just be. I read, I slept, I listened to music. I took a walk up to the roof of the InnerCHANGE office and watched the sun slowly dip behind the hills, then illuminate the underbellies of the clouds with light and color. I had no choice but to simply sit and behold. It was beautiful.
So as I stumble my way through a new environment feeling much like a little child trying to figure out a world of adults I don't understand, I take comfort in knowing that I loved, I am valued, I have a purpose. I am slowly learning to stand.
Monday, April 13, 2009
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