Touched by angels...

Last night, feeling pretty low, I was raised up by the Holy Spirit. Praise be to God.

After a long and hard day at work (long week actually), I showed up at church last night for Bell Choir practice and was greeted with a card. The card, signed by the entire choir, reminded me that God would be with me on my journey to Africa next month. It also included a generous donation to the trip. I admit to being shocked.

In my life I've done many things on behalf of God. I've been on youth missions. I've led youth missions. I've built playgrounds, helped flood victims, and tried, always, to help my fellow brothers and sisters on this great planet. In all that time, I've embraced the challenges and the hardships as just another part of life - not unlike taking out the trash or making my bed or going to church on Sunday. It was something that was done not for kudos or payment or out of any fear of bad karma. It was something that was done because it was necessary and needed. As a result, I've never felt any sort of honor particularly attached with these tasks. It would be like taking a victory lap because you changed the oil in your car, or feeling smug because you did the laundry. While useful and helpful, these sorts of obligations to our fellow human beings should be de rigeur, not special.

Of course, I know that not everyone is willing to give up a Saturday to build a playground or an evening to play the part of a wise man in the Nativity Story. But not everyone does the dishes or dusts or cleans the shower and yet somehow these tasks get done. We all have our part to play in the greater scheme of things. So to take honor for doing something that somebody else didn't do misses the point entirely. We all do something. We all contribute.

So, I was shocked. Pleased, to be certain, but shocked. I was touched that these people would choose to honor me for making this trip to Africa on their behalf, but confused as to why I was being honored in this way, at this time, for something that might be a bit more complicated than making coffee on Sunday mornings but that, in its essence, was exactly the same task. I thanked everyone for the card and the gift and pledged to share both the sentiments and the gift with the others taking the journey.

Later, however, it hit me. Though I was highly honored by this gift, it had not been intended for me. The gift was mine, but the honor belonged to God. These people were showing their faith, love, and hope in God by helping me to do His work. I was merely the recipient of the gift. And that feeling made me humble and all the more honored. God was entrusting me with His gift. He was letting me feel one tiny iota of the praise that He rightfully deserves.

If this is to be the sort of lesson that I am to learn on this trip, I'm not sure I can wait for it to begin. But if I have learned anything already, I don't need to go to Africa to be touched by angels. They are all around me and their touches are profound and filled with God's love.

Have a blessed weekend.