Teamwork
Another Day Along the Way
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Another day,
This week at Emmanuel College we are emphasizing the variety of nationalities and people groups who are all made in the image of God. Every tribe, every tongue, every language, every race, every color. Historical seasons of pain and promise, of neglect and acceptance, of wars and rumors of wars.
Genesis reminds us that we all - yes, all - are made in the image of God. Music and stories and lessons remind us of our mistakes, but also our beauty, our hope, our wounds. Love, acceptance, and forgiveness are correct and needed; hate and rejection should be hated and rejected.
We began reminding ourselves on January 12, during the Martin Luther King Convocation. This morning, the worship and the words reminded us about we we too often forget. We seek to continue learning and remembering; this week's emphasis highlights various musical styles and historical realities. Next week we follow the theme by moving toward a global emphasis on missions.
Today's Another Day revisits a story I wrote after learning from a man in Los Angeles in May 2006. Read it and realize the importance of us all. Remember that teamwork is the key to the lessons of grace....
I could write about the Azusa Street Centennial and its historical meaning, taking the story down many different streets and turns.
I could write about the songs, the sessions, the services, or the celebrations.
I could write about those who spoke or the many nationalities attending.
I could write about conversations with friends I miss, friends I will soon miss, or leaders I respect.
I could write about my new homeless friend who loves potato chips.
I could write about the passengers I sat beside on the endless flights between Orlando and LA, my speaking sessions, my long walks, my huge prayers, the Lakers' fans, or the amazing beauty across the country.
But I won't. Those were healthy experiences, yes. But I need to let you know what I learned from my new friend Max.
Max waited on me as I ate breakfast three days. Saturday morning - before I returned home - he did more than serve; he told me his story. As I ate eggs and bacon and fruit, I learned about revival movements and church history and global evangelism. His personal testimony became strategic; I should have labeled Max a missiologist and receive credit for a doctorate degree.
While he poured fresh orange juice for his student, Max told me of the man who explained the gospel to him and invited him to Jesus. Max thanked me because of how America sent missionaries to reach his native tribe. Deep appreciation showed itself through his huge grin. Max was happy. And grateful.
He provided information, explaining how his nation now has a higher percentage of Christ's followers per total population than America does. Max said, "Though I live here in LA, I go home often. Christians are everywhere in my country. And we are excited!" Before leaving me alone with my newspaper and donut, Max paused and said, "Now, we seem more thrilled about Jesus than you white men are."
Max-the-server taught me-the-preacher. I tried to read the LA Times sports section, but the NBA scores, MLB stats, and NFL draft picks did not interest me like they usually do. I kept thinking about Max, about his country, about us, about me. I thought about times I've been to his country. I wondered if I would, or should, ever return. I decided that if I go there again I want to take Max with me. Or let Max take me with him.
Soon Max returned again, filling my huge glass with orange juice for the third time. He asked permission to offer a suggestion to an American pastor and author like me. I said, "Yes." Max said, "Mr. Maxwell, it is now our turn. We can go places you people can't go. People who won't like you or listen to you will listen to us now. The way we look and the way we live fits better in the countries where people have not heard about Jesus."
"Max, what should we do to help make that happen?," I asked.
He said, "Trust us to now do for the world what you did for us."
He patted my back and walked away. I left, leaving a larger tip than normal. But it did not compare to the tips he gave me.
Along the way,
Chris Maxwell
Powerful Statement: Do you really believe in what you're doing? Or better yet, do you really believe that what you're doing is part of God's doing?
(Leonard Sweet, Aqua Church)
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Another day,
This week at Emmanuel College we are emphasizing the variety of nationalities and people groups who are all made in the image of God. Every tribe, every tongue, every language, every race, every color. Historical seasons of pain and promise, of neglect and acceptance, of wars and rumors of wars.
Genesis reminds us that we all - yes, all - are made in the image of God. Music and stories and lessons remind us of our mistakes, but also our beauty, our hope, our wounds. Love, acceptance, and forgiveness are correct and needed; hate and rejection should be hated and rejected.
We began reminding ourselves on January 12, during the Martin Luther King Convocation. This morning, the worship and the words reminded us about we we too often forget. We seek to continue learning and remembering; this week's emphasis highlights various musical styles and historical realities. Next week we follow the theme by moving toward a global emphasis on missions.
Today's Another Day revisits a story I wrote after learning from a man in Los Angeles in May 2006. Read it and realize the importance of us all. Remember that teamwork is the key to the lessons of grace....
I could write about the Azusa Street Centennial and its historical meaning, taking the story down many different streets and turns.
I could write about the songs, the sessions, the services, or the celebrations.
I could write about those who spoke or the many nationalities attending.
I could write about conversations with friends I miss, friends I will soon miss, or leaders I respect.
I could write about my new homeless friend who loves potato chips.
I could write about the passengers I sat beside on the endless flights between Orlando and LA, my speaking sessions, my long walks, my huge prayers, the Lakers' fans, or the amazing beauty across the country.
But I won't. Those were healthy experiences, yes. But I need to let you know what I learned from my new friend Max.
Max waited on me as I ate breakfast three days. Saturday morning - before I returned home - he did more than serve; he told me his story. As I ate eggs and bacon and fruit, I learned about revival movements and church history and global evangelism. His personal testimony became strategic; I should have labeled Max a missiologist and receive credit for a doctorate degree.
While he poured fresh orange juice for his student, Max told me of the man who explained the gospel to him and invited him to Jesus. Max thanked me because of how America sent missionaries to reach his native tribe. Deep appreciation showed itself through his huge grin. Max was happy. And grateful.
He provided information, explaining how his nation now has a higher percentage of Christ's followers per total population than America does. Max said, "Though I live here in LA, I go home often. Christians are everywhere in my country. And we are excited!" Before leaving me alone with my newspaper and donut, Max paused and said, "Now, we seem more thrilled about Jesus than you white men are."
Max-the-server taught me-the-preacher. I tried to read the LA Times sports section, but the NBA scores, MLB stats, and NFL draft picks did not interest me like they usually do. I kept thinking about Max, about his country, about us, about me. I thought about times I've been to his country. I wondered if I would, or should, ever return. I decided that if I go there again I want to take Max with me. Or let Max take me with him.
Soon Max returned again, filling my huge glass with orange juice for the third time. He asked permission to offer a suggestion to an American pastor and author like me. I said, "Yes." Max said, "Mr. Maxwell, it is now our turn. We can go places you people can't go. People who won't like you or listen to you will listen to us now. The way we look and the way we live fits better in the countries where people have not heard about Jesus."
"Max, what should we do to help make that happen?," I asked.
He said, "Trust us to now do for the world what you did for us."
He patted my back and walked away. I left, leaving a larger tip than normal. But it did not compare to the tips he gave me.
Along the way,
Chris Maxwell
Powerful Statement: Do you really believe in what you're doing? Or better yet, do you really believe that what you're doing is part of God's doing?
(Leonard Sweet, Aqua Church)
