The Totally Unexpected Missionary in Seat 27B

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

There is a particular kind of "busy-ness" that comes with leaving our house in the summer. We have 4 new turkeys who already act like they own the place and loudly object to every decision I make. A week-old litter of bunnies suddenly decided this was the perfect week to require twice-daily checkups. The garden...HA! It apparently held a staff meeting and unanimously agreed that every green bean, squash, and ear of corn should reach peak harvest the exact day we left.

So, walking out the front door didn't feel like leaving for a mission trip. It felt like I was clocking out halfway through a shift at a very disorganized petting zoo.

The airports didn't exactly restore the calm.

They have a unique ability to make otherwise intelligent adults forget how escalators work, suddenly stand in the middle of walkways, and panic because they can't find a boarding pass that has been in their hand the entire time. However, after a few hours of  flights, security lines, and carrying backpacks that somehow gain five pounds every hour, we all become slightly less dignified versions of ourselves.

But somewhere over Mexico, God interrupted my schedule. What started out as a “Year Two of Honduras” has turned into a God moment.

I found myself sitting beside a young woman with Down syndrome. I'll call her Joy—because after spending a few hours with her, that's exactly what she was. She delighted in everything:

The flight attendant bringing snacks.

The ding of the seatbelt sign.

The tiny cup of ginger ale.

The clouds stretching endlessly beneath us. She pointed at them over and over with the kind of excitement most of us reserve for fireworks or Disney World.

Honestly, it was as if every ordinary moment was a gift she refused to miss.

Meanwhile, I realized how much of life I can sometimes sleepwalk though.

For instance, I had spent most of the day managing life. Managing luggage, managing schedules, and  travel details.

Even on a mission trip, my mind was still trying to organize the next thing. And sitting beside me was someone who seemed completely free from the burden of squeezing every ounce of productivity out of the moment. She wasn't worried about tomorrow's schedule or trying to make the flight more efficient,  she was simply receiving the moment that had been given to her.

Somewhere between Texas and Honduras, Joy became the missionary and I was the one being discipled.

Romans 15 doesn't say, "May God fill you with joy when everything goes according to plan."

It says He fills us with joy as we trust Him. Joy isn't waiting at the end of the journey.

It rides beside us in the middle seat.

It smiles through turbulence.

It points out the clouds.

By evening, our team had exchanged airplane seats for plastic lawn cdhairs surrounded by Honduran girls waiting patiently to have their fingernails and toenails painted. Watching our ladies kneel in front of each little girl reminded me that love almost never looks spectacular.

The Kingdom of God is built by people who are willing to get low enough to notice someone small. No stage. No spotlight. No dramatic music. Just a woman holding a tiny hand and painting one fingernail at a time.  I honestly don't know whether those girls will remember the nail polish next week. But I know they'll remember that someone believed they were worth sitting with,  worth noticing, and worth loving.

Because that's exactly how Jesus loves us. Before today, I thought we were bringing joy to Honduras. Instead, God reminded me that joy was already waiting for me on an airplane.

Maybe that's how He often works.

We set out to be a blessing, only to discover He has already placed one in our path. We're praying this week that the joy of Christ overflows through every conversation, every laugh, every game, every prayer, every painted fingernail, and every small act of kindness. The Gospel is often carried in ordinary moments, and ordinary moments become extraordinary when they're filled with the love of Jesus.

Until All Have Heard,

Pastor Mark