Luck of the Irish?

It began with some national inspiration, the idea to open our home to newcomers or immigrants and share thanksgiving. The weekend approached. We were informed an Irish fellow was to be our guest. But our city organizer was unable to make contact.

And I had bought all this food planning on welcoming a family of four.

Plans were changed. Your Daddy persevered in spite of my temptation to "just forget it". A last minute invitation was offered. And a couple from your Daddy's place of work graced our table to partake in turkey, Cabernet Sauvignon and pumpkin pie. It was a good time.

I hate to admit it, but I really struggled with misplaced missionary zeal while promoting and anticipating this event. I had aspirations of being used by God to transform a newcomer's life, so much so, that they would dramatically profess faith in Christ and testify to the power of hospitality. "See what happens when you open your home to strangers? The church grows! Let's all do the same!" I do not discount that God can perform a miracle through one act of kindness, but it was kind of fitting that I wasn't even given such an opportunity.

Instead, we opened our home to people we already knew, who like us are from somewhere else. And while we do not know exactly where they are in their faith journey, we know that they are on a journey nonetheless. And God desperately loves them.You see kids, sharing the gospel isn't just about being there in the final moments when one decides to follow Jesus. It's about being there when God WANTS you to be there. It's about listening much, caring authentically, and speaking the truth in love when the Holy Spirit prompts. Not jumping ahead. Not lagging behind. But walking with God alongside the ones He pursues with His divine love.

And I know God is pursuing that Irish fellow as well. Just not through us, this time.

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