The kingdom is for moo-cows, too
"For Jesus, the question wasn't how do I get into heaven? but how do I bring heaven here?
The question wasn't how do I get in there? but how do I get there, here?"
(from Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith by Rob Bell, p. 147-148)
During a recent trip to visit our Alma Mater, Evangel University, Ryan & I had the opportunity to join a group of students to help clean up the aftermath of some nasty tornadoes that had hit southwest Missouri. Our particular task involved going through the fields, picking up debris that could either interfere with planting/plowing, or that could be eaten by cows when they are set to graze. Cows are especially drawn to little bits of insulation that blows everywhere during strong winds. It looks like cotton candy goodness, all the puffs of pink stuck to dry grass and barbed-wire fences. However, as you can guess, fiberglass isn't good for cow innards.
I was amazed at how the simple act of walking up and down a field, filling a Hefty bag with little bits of insulation, could make me feel connected to the work of God in the world.
In picking up the mess, I was able to participate in, well, restoration. Cleaning my own bathtub at home doesn't produce anywhere near the same feeling of taking what was broken/dirty and lending my hands to God to help make it whole/clean again.
In doing the work with others, I saw a demonstration of normal people who put aside their own plans for a Saturday morning and instead taking up the burdens of their neighbors as their own. I saw community. And selflessness.
And that, my friends, is a little slice of the kingdom.
The question wasn't how do I get in there? but how do I get there, here?"
(from Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith by Rob Bell, p. 147-148)
During a recent trip to visit our Alma Mater, Evangel University, Ryan & I had the opportunity to join a group of students to help clean up the aftermath of some nasty tornadoes that had hit southwest Missouri. Our particular task involved going through the fields, picking up debris that could either interfere with planting/plowing, or that could be eaten by cows when they are set to graze. Cows are especially drawn to little bits of insulation that blows everywhere during strong winds. It looks like cotton candy goodness, all the puffs of pink stuck to dry grass and barbed-wire fences. However, as you can guess, fiberglass isn't good for cow innards.
I was amazed at how the simple act of walking up and down a field, filling a Hefty bag with little bits of insulation, could make me feel connected to the work of God in the world.
In picking up the mess, I was able to participate in, well, restoration. Cleaning my own bathtub at home doesn't produce anywhere near the same feeling of taking what was broken/dirty and lending my hands to God to help make it whole/clean again.
In doing the work with others, I saw a demonstration of normal people who put aside their own plans for a Saturday morning and instead taking up the burdens of their neighbors as their own. I saw community. And selflessness.
And that, my friends, is a little slice of the kingdom.
posted by Sarah Notton | 9:51 PM
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