This week our church is hosting more than one-hundred missionaries from a dozen countries for our annual missions conference. Our goal is to give them a few days of rest and refreshment, a few hours of peace and quiet, and a good dose of friendship and support away from the pressure of their normal lives.
And I’ll tell you the truth, these people make me embarrassed to call myself a Christian sometimes. Our friends Tass and Karen, for instance, left their comfy Midwestern home to live in the Gaza Strip a few years ago. They currently live near Jericho where they are building schools, businesses, and community centers to serve their neighbors.
Marc and Ruth feed, educate, and love the street children of Brazil. Bobby and Noemi carry food into refugee camps in the Philippines. The Cobbs distribute forbidden Bibles in Asia, and the Pavlovskis bring Kingdom culture to Eastern Europe. The list goes on and on.
I, on the other hand, drop a few dollars into the missions offering on Wednesday nights.
Being with these people also encourages me, though. Before the week is over, they will remind me that the part I play is vital, too. I don’t think God has ever asked me to go to the uttermost parts of the earth. But he has asked me to be mindful of those who do. To pray for them. To welcome them. And, to help support them through the abundance I’ve been given.
In the end, I may not carry the water to a thirsty child recovering from an earthquake in the Philippines. But, I can provide the cup.
