Graphics by Pugly Pixel.
I have spent the last few days in Philadelphia
At a model UN conference.
I sat in a room with students from
Harvard
Yale
Columbia
University of Chicago
Georgetown
and other 'prestigious' Universities
thoroughly intimidated.
As the first session began, I looked around the room flabbergasted
at the note passing, placards thrust in the air and students tromping to the front of the room to make superfluous speeches that left me speechless.
I have an aesthetic eye and a passion for 'grassroot' ministry.
I absolutely do not have the passion for
national sovereignty
private investors
micro-financing
points of inquiry
making motions
blah-blah-blah.
Two moments of enlightenment:
1.
I was briskly walking down 16th street of Philly and past once and then twice
a man and son squatted on the cold ground
with a flimsy piece of cardboard scribbled with sharpie.
My papa knocked on my heart and reminded
me that every time I love another
I am serving the face of Jesus.
I turned around for the third time and tentatively
scooted over to this man.
I began by roughly asking
Tu espanol? (rough)
"No. Roma."
Um...Romanian?
"Da"
Ce Faci?!?
"Bine!"
Cum te ciam? (Rough; What is your name?)
And this is about as far as our conversation got.
I was just so excited to meet a family with whom I could share even a tiny tidbit of understanding. I am sure he felt the same way.
How hysterical for me to be so absorbed in my own academic
misery that I almost missed the mission, the calling
placed on my heart.
I have been given the talent to tell stories.
Not to write resolutions and pretend to be political.
This european man and a Pastor from Washington
gently reminded me of the place where my
Story Telling
has been requested.
Europe.
How daunting.
And not so very specific.
2.
Mr. TastyKakes.
I sat on the airplane in route to Dallas and knew that the minute my seatbelt clicked it would be a very long flight.
I had a paper due the next morning at nine and had promised myself diligence on the flight.
However, Charles introduced himself immediately
and was not in mood to silently stare out the window.
I noticed how he clutched a faded black book labeled
Holy Bible,
Stuffed with papers and photographs.
Charles was a man who let you no immediately
he was not about sitting behind a desk the rest of his life.
He loved to work with his hands,
a plumber
a painter
a poet
and many others trades
accumulated into a very colorful man.
Charles had a story to tell.
(I kept thinking how much Charles would enjoy a conversation with my dad.)
He was a simple man with simple convictions
and a heart transformed by Boet.
How funny that I could spend five days in the presence of such brilliance
and see these University elites deny any amount of self corruption.
And then see a man who understands brokenness and clings to the only thing that makes us whole.
Dear Charles,
Thank you for the Philly made TastyKakes.
They are inspiring.
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