Warning:
Paragraphs with more than 117 words ahead.
It's too late to turn back now though, so you might as well read on.
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This is not about me.
This summer, this job— this ministry— it's not ... about ... me.
It's about God, and it's about them— the campers.
And they are coming.
This beautiful, peaceful camp has been empty of them for a majority of the last three weeks,
and now, they are coming.
Today, at 4pm, Blind Camp starts.
And— not to be funny, or smart, or punny or anything but sincere,
but, I feel extraordinarily blinded by the things distracting me from my job today
which is solely to prepare myself for them.
But, thankfully, a coworker shared a worship thought last night which really hit home
with me and this uneasy feeling I have, and I wanted to share it with you.
So, here it goes. Picture this:
You ordered pizza and you hear the doorbell ring.
Hopeful and with great excitement/mild relief, you open the front door to see the pizza man.
He has the box in hand and your mouth starts to water at the sight of it.
When you take the box and begin to make your exchange, however, the box is completely and unmistakably filled with the disappointment and confusion you instantly put into it from realizing it is terribly empty. Your pizza is not there.
Now the box isn't worth much. But the pizza? The pizza gives the pizza box its value, hence your disheartened frown given to the delivery man in place of his tip.
Now, putting that into terms that will settle my uneasy feelings and hopefully make actual sense to you, I am the box. You are the box.
And God gives me—us— weight, credibility, and purpose, or pizza— in pizza box analogies.
Tracking? Good. This is too powerful to miss. But first, hold onto that; rabbit trail ensuing.
God does not call the prepared, necessarily, all of the time.
He prepares who He calls. Now, how AMAZING is that? Speaking of this very phenomenon,
I came to this place, to Camp Wakonda in the middle of nowhere in the cornfield-furnished parts of Wisconsin to follow God's call again, myself vastly and rather ghastly unprepared. Surprise? Naw. Last summer it was Montana after Angel Airways (Delta and actual angels) provided me a $1 plane ticket after a very specific prayer. Now, it's Wisconsin. ( It's as if I travel in the wind, I swear; you never know where I'll end up!) In fact, I didn't even know what Wakonda was before physically bumping into the interview table at school. I got a bruise from that incident. No joke. But it was a good thing I did bump into that table because here I am, giving everything I can to God for Him to utilize and multiply like the fish and loaves fed to the multitude; Lord knows I can't multiply what I have to offer on my own. Hence the uneasy feeling— the blind feeling.
I am going in blind. Me. But God has already gone before me this summer and has paved the way for all the work He will do through me. Who needs sight with a promise like that??
Am I nervous? Yes. (As stated above more than once). Am I excited, though?
Oh— oh yes.
I am just a vessel this summer though, much like last summer. A vessel for carrying the pizza. Whereas I went to them in Montana, going door to door on foot, this summer they are coming to me, in fleets, and all I have to do is trust and let Him fill me with the pizza, if you will— the right things to do and say, and the love, wisdom, and discernment— compassion—energy I will need to pull children from the depths of their loneliness and the waves of their pain, the shallows of their selfishness, and the widths and boundless heights of their fears and inner turmoils. Perhaps I'll find a piece of myself a long the way. Or my whole self. (But that would be all too providential. There is always more to learn. Why else would we have these crazy adventures if we were going to suddenly discover all 1000000 pieces of ourselves in one go?)
M'kay. There ya go. I've said pretty much all I intended to.
Blessings. :)
Ps. Mail address to be posted at a later date.
"This is not about me.
This summer, this job— this ministry— it's not ... about ... me.
It's about God, and it's about them— the campers.
And they are coming. "
