What Would Thin Be Like? And Other Silly Thoughts In Serious Times

I'm thinking of writing another book. This one could be entitled What Would Thin Be Like? And Other Silly Thoughts In Serious Times. Yes, you read right. While other people's blogs (especially my fellow friends here on Mercy Ships) detail the ups and downs of missionary work, the plight of the poor, and the trials of the world, the simple side of my mind turns to randomness. Something must be done.

I really want to be one of those ultra-serious people. I don't want to have to convince people that I hold two master's degrees and have a couple of pennies of sense rattling around in my brain. I want people to just know it. I want to exude intelligence and maturity, but instead I often feel like my silliness makes me seem much younger than my forty years (and not in a good way). I'm sure Mother Teresa didn't get shocked looks once people found out she got the Nobel Prize. It simply made sense that she should get it.

But when I think about the person I would like to be--loving people like Mother Teresa, sacrificing like Esther, evangelizing people like Billy Graham, forgiving people like Nelson Mandela, inspiring people like Ghandi, charming people like Oprah, praying like Paul, and basically fully embodying Jesus--I can only think of silliness. I wonder if I'm thin enough, smart enough, educated enough...am I enough? All of my insecurities shine through and I wonder silly things like "what would it be like to be thin or if my head was on the body of someone like Gabrielle Union?"

No matter how many letters there are behind my name, what I haven't accomplished shines through. No matter how many times I've stepped out on faith, I consider the opportunities I may have missed when I was scared. No matter how many people I've showed love to, I worry about those who I fell short with. Even in the midst of serving God in this wonderful way on the mission field, I feel like I should always be doing or being more. Serious people do more, right? ...Or so I ask myself. I mean, why haven't I personally found the cure to the Ebola crisis in West Africa by now? Ludicrous, right? It's funny how no matter where you go, your stuff goes with you. Every insecurity and every ... I find myself wondering how it is that no matter how much you work on it, those things seem to surface at the most inopportune times.

But, at the end of the day, I was reminded that I am, indeed enough. A fellow minister was interviewing me and asked me about the book(s) that I felt every minister should read (beyond the Bible). I sat there stumped as I looked at him, and all those insecurities began to surface again as I drew a blank. I thought of how no one would ever believe that I graduated from seminary if I don't come up with acceptable answers to the question and begin quoting A.W. Tozier, D. Willard or the like. And then an overwhelming peace came over me as I realized that I was not them and that God didn't make a mistake. I really felt the reality of what Psalm 139 says when it talks about being 'fearfully and wonderfully made and having your soul know it well.' While serious things can be important, God has gifted me with a joy that simply flows over and may seem silly to most. So my soul kicked in and reminded me that I don't have to prove my intelligence or commitment to all things serious. My soul kicked in and reminded me that the greatest job that I have is to love and do so in my own skin with my own silliness and my own style.

Now this knowing won't stop the occasional return of the my-head-on-actress-body thoughts or wondering how I can do more to heal the world. It's those random thoughts that fuel the passion of great people to do great things. Perhaps I'll finally get healthier and have my body be a living reflection of God's deliverance from our vices (like chocolate) or maybe I'll even stumble across a cure for HIV/AIDS in my spare time. Who knows? But for now, all this silliness in these serious times is enough for God and so it's enough for me.

My Hugutation

Several years ago, I went on a mission/vision trip to Lucknow, India with the express point of ministering to the Dalit people. If you know anything about the Indian caste system, then you know that the Dalit people are the lowest on the ladder. In fact, they are what some call "The Untouchables". These are people who have historically been cast aside and relegated to the dirtiest of jobs--handling trash, waste and blood products. They are bound by this cultural, sociological system that says they are nothing to God and therefore nothing to man.When I heard about them, all I wanted to do was fly across the world and hug.

Three Dalit girls I came across in Lucknow.

Now I realize that everyone doesn't want a hug, but it was in that moment that I began to see how much we (society, humanity) had allowed the enemy to steal something so precious and such a simple way of showing people the love of God through physical touch. Without being lascivious, there are hugs and human touch that simply about communicating the message "I care".

Then the other day, I sat in the room across from a momma and held her little girl's hand. As soon as I touched the little girl's hand, tears began to flow from her mother's eyes and sprung into the recesses of her own. She was about 8 years old and looked like any one of my god children... They had gone from doctor to doctor and heard the same answer--no. And we were no different. We couldn't give the girl the medical treatment that she was looking for, but I knew in that moment that I could give her something different--a touch.

You see, I've developed a bit of a reputation for being "that person". I'm the one who when you've had a bad day or you're missing home while here on the mission field or you simply realized that it's been days since anyone has touched you besides a hand shake who will reach out in bonafide, Christian love. There's no cost for what I give. No judgement. There's no malintent. I have no hidden sexual desire that I'm fulfilling. And I want nothing in return. The reason why I hug is because it's a simple way to bridge the gap and say "you matter". It's a simple way to put action to my words "Jesus loves you and so do I." It's a simple way to cross socioeconomic, geographic, gender, cultural lines and speak the same language of caring.

My kind of fun. This lady in Canada along
with her friends took a day in winter (when
people are depressed and lonely) to spread love
one hug at a time. Genius!

I'm sure you're wondering why I'm talking about my hugutation (hug+reputation). This week, someone confronted me about my hugs and tried to convince me to squash them. I can admit that I was saddened (and irritated) that a fellow Christian missionary would be so limited in how they thought about (appropriate) human touch. But I know that person isn't alone. Having been on the mission field now for almost a decade, I even understand the cross cultural dynamics of where this person was coming from. But, the truth is that we live in a world where the enemy has us so thoroughly convinced that all touch must be interpreted through the societal "naughty filter". But I choose to use a different filter to govern my actions--JESUS. I know that an appropriate hug on the right day can make all the difference in anyone's day. I may even have a T-Shirt printed that says "free hugs here" or a sign around my neck. But in the absence of those marketing tools, I'll just tell you: if you pass me in the street, and you're having a lousy day...reach out and maybe, just maybe, I'll be there to catch you. But if it's not me, then I hope that you'll pass a hug, a touch of simple care along to someone else you encounter who just needs their day to be boosted.

Be encouraged and don't be scared! God's love is bigger than the devils innuendo.

Blessings,
MinD