What am I thankful for?
Thanksgiving just flew past us in a blur. We almost didn't stop to celebrate it because of all the things going on around here, and because it's not a holiday here in Mexico. But our Wesleyan missionary colleague, Nicky Peña, insisted on us all getting together for a traditional turkey dinner. I'm glad we did. After all, I truly am thankful for all that God's been doing.
One thing especially crosses my mind and amazes me every time I stop to think about it. It's the simple truth that God uses us (all of us) to accomplish His work here on earth. God works through us, or sometimes, in spite of us and all our stumbling and mumbling efforts to speak grace and truth to those around us. The Apostle Paul called it "the foolishness of preaching" ("loco" in Spanish!). In some mysterious way, the Holy Spirit speaks to people through our words and actions, whether or not we're especially good speakers (or doers).
This past weekend before Thanksgiving was yet another example of this to me. The seminar on Holiness that I taught was well attended (four pastors and 20 plus lay people), and they all responded well to this simple, yet profound doctrine so basic to our faith (and denomination).
But the kicker came for me on Sunday morning as I was preaching at one of the local churches in Tehuacan (two hours southeast of Puebla). In accordance with the 50/50 vision God has given us for Mexico, I have determined that I'll preach almost nothing but the Call to full-time ministry. This time I even felt led to give a specific altar call for those who knew God was speaking to them about going into ministry. I preached my heart out, explained the invitation I was giving, and then had everyone stand together as I prayed. I prayed with my eyes open to see if anyone was coming forward. I prayed extra long and with all the conviction I could muster in Spanish (sorry, but it still doesn't just roll off my tongue like a native!).
And nothing happened. No one came forward. I closed my prayer time praying for those whom I knew God was calling, but weren't ready to make a public commitment yet (a parting shot). And then I sat down as the lay leader introduced the closing song. (The pastor was away for the Sunday, taking advantage of having a guest speaker! This was not a problem to me as I had already spoken with him the day before.) I knew I had done my best, and it apparently hadn't made much of an impact. It had been a long weekend, and I was ready to go home anyway.
I must admit I groaned inwardly as the lay leader stopped the closing chorus time and began to sum up my sermon again to the congregation. It's a typical practice in Latin America. Though to me it seems redundant and even a bit insulting (as if I didn't preach it well enough the first time), it really is their way of honoring the guest speaker by showing that his message is worth repeating; too important just to hear once and forget.
And not only did this gifted lay leader do a masterful job of reiterating the message briefly, he also felt the need to redo the altar call for those whom God was calling into ministry. I was not insulted; I was eternally grateful. I knew in my heart that God had been speaking! And sure enough, with the worship team playing in the background, a mature lady (probably late 50's) stepped forward with tears streaming down her face. I was not disappointed even though my message was aimed at the young adults and teens who made up more than half of this congregation. She would have been enough for me, but as she "broke the ice", young adults, teens, and a couple more mature adults surged forward to acknowledge God's Call on their lives. I counted twelve altogether (could have been more) standing around the altar with tears in their eyes.
What a joy it was for me to pray with most of them before the close of the service! With my arms around them, or with hands on shoulders or head, I again prayed for all I was worth in Spanish. Mostly I was drowned out by the worship team and the congregation who sang from their hearts. But it didn't matter. God heard and still hears my prayers for these 12, who, through the foolishness of this Gringo trying to preach in Spanish, heard God speaking to them.
For this, I am thankful!
