The Beach

Woke up at 5:45am this morning, still dark outside, a cool 42 degrees. Fed Max his milk and then quickly ate breakfast. Got on my thick sweatpants and my Green Bay Packers sweatshirt (the warmest and fuzziest I own). Driving on the highway, directly east for about a half hour, I witness the once black sky slowly reveal its blueness turning to deep red as it meets the horizon. The further into my drive, the blue gets lighter, the red gets pinker, and the horizon is almost ripe with sunshine. I finally get to the ocean. It's high tide so there's not much beach to walk on quite yet. It's these early morning beach walks that have me feeling so small and God so big. As the sun makes its appearance, seemingly thousands of colors fill the sky and reflect off the waves and the wet shore. Although only for a few minutes can you stare at everything, it is a beautiful sight to see.

I walked south, looking at the gulls, sea foam, and endless space that I enjoyed mostly by myself. A few runners, a couple elderly women walking dogs here and there, but otherwise the space and time was mine. As one might do whilst strolling the beach, I began to just stare at shells as they passed, occasionally looking up at the waves, only to be blinded by the increasing light. With no intention of picking any up (I'm not one of those people), I'd find one that seems so rare and intact that I've got to inspect it. Despite the billions of shells no doubt on the beach, they get overlooked and only the truly special ones will get my attention.

It is so hard to love every one. I want to pick and choose to which I will devote my body to reaching down and picking one up. I guess that's how I am with people too. Working in a ministry where we are by definition to go the second mile for others despite what we may want to do is hard to live up to. When Jesus declared to love our enemies, he knew that what he was saying to his disciples was going to be hard for them to hear. When I look out on the sands at all the shells, I know God made it all. He owns it all. When looking at the people made in the image of God, despite their color, size, or condition, I know they are loved and that I am to love them.

Something I will do at times, rather than avoid the unremarkable, I will give try to find the beauty in it. If I were to pick a random shell off the beach and write a five page paper about its appearance, despite the cracks, the smells, and perhaps its discoloration, I would probably grow more fond of not only that shell, but of the billions still in their place on the sand.

But not everyone has a beach near them. Many live perfectly content without ever feeling the need to feel the sand between their toes. Hypothetically, what if Jesus came to your house and told you to find a seashell, any seashell, and write a five page paper about it? No questions asked, would you do it? That doesn't seem too difficult, especially if you have easy access to a shell or can crank out a paper in an hour or two. No big deal. What if this was to be your life style, developing a greater understanding for the different types of shells, the things that cause them to break and grow and contain the color that they do?

If you are following this metaphor, then let me continue in the metaphor by being completely honest with you. I live on the "beach". I see so many broken shells but I'm enamored by how their presence contributes to the scenery of the beach regardless of condition. So many people don't go to the beach, don't talk about the beach, wish the beach and their messed up shells would not exist in their world. How am I supposed to convince those not on the beach that God is at work here, that God wants those not near shells to find a shell and invest time in it.

I don't want to disrespect or resort to comparing the people living in poverty to shells and keep people that are well-off as people in the metaphor. Let me halt this metaphor and speak plainly. The people living in poverty or people of a minority race or culture often feel unheard, misunderstood, uncared for, and judged by the people that make up the majority, in this country's case, white middle class. As someone from this majority currently living in this neighborhood, I can get easily frustrated for these people when ignorant comments are said, big decisions are made without them in mind, and their voices fall on deaf ears. I often get confused as to what my role in all this is. My mission upon first coming to Jacksonville was to help love on this community, share the love of Christ, develop leaders, show that a person, especially a white male, can care for them. Should my mission stay the same? Should I look back at the types of people I came from and bring them to the neighborhood, not to take control of it, not to collect its precious shells and bring them back to where they came from, but to learn to love and understand their collective worth in God's eyes?

I'm kind of caught up in the middle. On one side, I've got this amazing ministry where I devote my time, energy, and passion. On the other side, I have y'all who read (or ignore) these blogs and support me through prayers and financial support. It is my ambition to love both sides, to encourage, love, challenge, and educate those that might not have any experience with being around poverty or minorities, in hopes that you might take a small step of faith to seek out a ministry close to you that works with them. God will use you if you let him. I was challenged by a gospel radio station not to pray for God to use me, but for God to first make me usable. If I'm not fit for kingdom work, I'm going to need a heart change before I jump into something. I wouldn't want to use a hammer that wasn't usable. Does that make sense?

If you feel compelled to, please pray with me and ask God:

-Lord, search my heart for you know every aspect of my life. What will you have me do? I know I have many blind spots to the things that are happening in this world, but Lord open my eyes and ears to your heart for those whom you've made. They are all precious to you. Reveal the things in my life that distract me from seeking your will for my life. Help me be a good steward of all the things with which you've blessed me. Humble me for I understand very little. Help me consider other people better than myself. Don't let this be the only time I pray about this.

Amen

I'm praying that prayer along with you since I struggle at times with loving particular kids when they act up. I found it helpful to spend time focusing on positive things about every single kid. It helped me understand more of God's love for them.

Please pray:

-That Max would learn how to eat food through his mouth and swallow. He is still tube feeding and has a sensitive gag reflex.

-For more volunteers for our after school program. Our regulars have had things come up recently.

-For healing in Brentwood. Lots of flu affecting teachers, students, and their families.

-That Max would avoid the flu. (It can be deadly for premature babies, especially with their underdeveloped lungs.)