Days of Mission

Boise has been my mission field for the past two and a half years. God gave me several tasks within this mission, one being my job. I have been given families to love on, and coworkers to share my heart for Jesus. Being a secular environment, I am not suppose to start conversations with the children and families I work with about Jesus. Although the entire staff knows I am a Christian, and that I am not quiet about it, and many families know I am a missionary, which has led to "religious conversations". Never have I considered this a challenge. So much of this mission is about love, not "preaching". I have seen such a beautiful impact Christ has made in my time there. A question will arise about the Bible -- ah, we need to grab the Bible nerd (a self given name, that I totally enjoy)! A kid says something cute about Jesus, "You need to tell Miss Mary when she gets here!" A crisis occurs, "We have been looking for you. They need your prayers." So many little things that tell me Christ uses those little moments of my day.
On no particular day, I sat at the lunch table with several little ones, as I helped dish up their plates. Several little conversations surrounded me, conversations I was not paying attention to nor cared much about as I earnestly tried to get food on plates, and then into mouths. "Pass the strawberries... one, two, or three... one scoop of corn to start with. Don't forget to pass the strawberries. Your friends would like some as well... The milk is in front of you...." At that moment -- in complete chaos -- my attention focused to one point, thanks to these fateful words, "God doesn't exist."
The room fell silent, or so it seemed. The normal chaos of serving children lunch continued, as I said a quick prayer to myself, "Oh Jesus, I need Your help NOW!" In so many ways this scene could end poorly without His guidance, and I needed it two minutes prior to hearing these words. As quickly as I called out, He answered, through another child, who replied, "God does too exist! He just doesn't live on Earth,"
"Yeah," another child chimes in, "He lives on another planet!" Suddenly, all those little conversations turned to this one, as kids talked about where God lives. Ah! I have found my place in this ever important conversation -- an entrance that will not get me, this child, or my workplace in any kind of trouble. "Well," I eagerly jumped into the conversation, "you guys are kind of right. God doesn't live on a planet, but in Heaven, which isn't on Earth, so it's almost like another planet." Some heads nodded in approval of my statement, some chimed a, "yeah", while others gave me a strange look. The conversation ended as quickly as it started.
Such a brief moment that I could have let slip by out of fear. God so eagerly pressed on my heart the past few weeks to seize every moment, not for myself but for His glory. In a moment, truth was proclaimed. Clarifications in little minds were made (or at least spoken -- I'm not sure where they fell on this whole "God lives on another planet" platform). And through it all, the glory of God shone down on such a tiny spot in history. I can't say lives were changed in such an instance, but I know I did what I am called to do.
Days are filled with small fleeting moments, such as this. We can so easily let them slip through our grasps for a list of reasons. Yet, each of us are given a mission field. It stands before us, and will not grab hold of us, rather will run right passed us. Our job is to catch it as it passes by, and not let go until we hear God say, "Go." For me, that is Boise until He fully opens the door for the Karimojong.