Blessed

The youth of the church gathered a few months ago to lead the worship service. It was the close of summer and nervous teens took turns climbing alter steps to offer up their testimonies about recent mission trips. They stood small behind the carved lectern. Hesitant, but committed. A trickling, then torrent, of verbs and adjectives poured forth of their experiences. Laughter bubbled from the audience at times and humbled silence followed at others. These students realized that through seeing others' pain and need, did they understand what it meant to be blessed in their own lives. 

The stories ended. Slowly, each teen navigated through the maze of dark pews. Acoustic guitar music surrounded them as each song line repeated, "We were blessed...We were blessed..." One after the other came forward again. Shoulders lined shoulders to stand on the alter and raise a handmade sign branded with that common word. Blessed. Blessed. Blessed. I was moved. Literally. I scrambled from my rear seat in the dark cavern sanctuary. My husband edged me on, "Go, Honey, go." I knew he felt it too. Front and center, I clicked photos from my camera phone. It was too powerful a moment not to capture.  

While school peers may have chosen music camp or sports camp, these rare few chose mission camp. Awkward, nervous, shy, bold, pimpled, beautiful.  To see the love of our Lord surge forth in a generation often labeled as adversary, we were blessed for having witnessed it. Blessed.