CALLED TO TOUCH

To make a difference and inspire change in this life means that a change must and will happen in you. When I arrived from that mission trip to the Motherland, after a powerful revelation that I really wanted to control who I helped, and deeper yet, who I touched, my eyes were now opened revealing an uncomfortable reality; how we have become comfortably programmed. The intense warning from a concerned mother who sees her innocent child headed to touch a person who is on society's "don't touch" list, is from a learned or programed experience that teaches something bad will transfer into you, or will happen to you if you pursue this mission. In some instances the mother's admonition is with merited wisdom, as this world has many dangers that go unnoticed by the weak and uninitiated. They do need protection from the predators and evil characters bent on destruction. However, there is to those who claim to be followers of Christ a constant friction between what is safe and what is not. A follower of Christ will face the borders of his/her comfort zone constantly with not just how to spread the gospel, but who do I physically touch as I present the good news? Can I teach, preach, sing, work in the church and get by with touching only those who pass my personal qualifications of "touchable"?

I've often thought about that young man in Africa, whose skin announced, "a contagious death awaits." As I look back, I wonder had I daunted latex gloves, and a mask; exercised other precautionary measures to reduce as much as possible the spread of a modern day leprosy, if much would have been said. Perhaps the locals would have understood this American not wanting to return home and contaminate citizens who only read of horrors overseas, but really never see a disastrous end to an otherwise fairly healthy human they know. Maybe. But what would he have felt like? Many church attendees have been on the other side. The side that senses a leprous view of you. It's inexpressible to your ears, but deafening to your spirit!

When you with excitement pay with hard earned money for items at the counter, and the cashier throws, slams on the counter, or gently places the change in your hands, making sure that skin doesn't touch, evidence of perhaps seminar training on how not to get "germs." Or is this because there is something about you they have learned, heard, or just plain been instructed, "these people you can't touch"? When your hand is greeted with another hand, and then as if the sting of an intruding, unwelcome insect has struck, they push, even throw your hand away while maintaining the most painful smile ever produced in their life, do you feel that you have "the disease?" These are momentary incidences that puts life in perspective that no matter how clean you think you are, how many times you use hand sanitizer, or how proud you are of your latest nail artistry, somebody is uncomfortable touching you, and it feels bad at that moment in time. But there is a deeper killer of the human spirit. The most damaging of all human acts is when the soul is untouched.

This blog has been named VIBRANT VILLAGE. It exists to simply reduce the world of mission and help to a village of our lives. The village that we are apart of can be our community, church, fraternity/sorority, our group of friends or even our own family. But we are apart of it, and we can't really leave it. The calling upon our lives is to bring life to our village. Our challenge is to look around and see who among us hasn't been touched, and then touch. Many cities are pictured as active; people constantly moving and on the go. The crowd is in focused motion headed somewhere. But among the throng are souls untouched. These people have made huge mistakes; others are secretly or have been publicly exposed that they are fighting a losing battle with an embarrassing disease; still others are deformed physically and wonder inside if that is why people treat them mean or just plain act as if they don't exist. Many are in the village and the atmosphere wreaks of an air in which they feel they don't fit in, nor is there any attempt to invite them in. They walk around going somewhere, but their soul is untouched. An untouched soul will soon die.

Luke 9:1,2,6 -- " Jesus called the twelve together and gave them power and authority over all daimons and to heal illnesses....
He sent them to speak publicly of the Kingdom of God.... they set out and went through the villages spreading the good news and healing in every place"

How many people have we seen that enter a hospital with an expectation that their situation will be turned around, and they will soon enjoy a renewed life, because that is the place where miracles happen. These centers of physical and emotional salvation have, in their given name and building, a proclamation to fix whatever problem one enters with. Many don't come out alive. But church?
The church village should never produce an untouched soul. How many enter it because its symbol, name, and building represent hope and healing?

In his book, "Writing In The Sand", Thomas Moore points out in a new way of understanding the view of Jesus and His mission, "The good news is that we are creating a new world order in which the first task is to heal each other...."
Jesus similarly focuses on the sickness of soul that affects people individually and socially, physically and spiritually. This perception of sickness is central, and healing is His signature activity." p 59

The Vibrant Village should be one where people understand their mission is to set out looking for the hurting and dying soul, and touch it with a purpose and an expected result to heal.
You are called even in your marginalized position, to lift the spirit of another. When a community or church or any other social unit takes up the true mission of Jesus, and sets out to first heal, The village will never be the same.

TOUCHING UNTOUCHABLES

I had never been on a plane so huge. My heart was racing with anticipation of touching soil I only read about, or heard missionaries testify of. Los Angeles Airport is considered one of the largest in the United States. Zimbabwe's runway would be like one of the 405 off ramps by comparison. I was being sent to the Mother of all lands, the Continent of Africa. I remember being so privileged and excited that when I exited the plane in Zimbabwe, I knelt down and kissed the ground. This was the place of my dreams. To travel to a far place and make a difference to people books, media, and tourists often painted as hopeless, and helpless. I was glad to arrive to do my best in turning someones life around. The next six weeks revealed a sealed weakness in my thinking about others and what the true definition of help really is. It challenged my understanding of Christianity and what a true follower of Christ does in the midst of people who apparently look for something deeper than what we "hand out," in an attempt to appease the guilty and listless spirit within a church goer who feels like it's them who need us. The life I helped to turn around was mine.

There were many stereotypical sites I prepared to see and take many pictures to present to an awaiting religious audience back home eager to see what freaky things accompanied this trip. The safaris were inspiring. Seeing animals that I grew up observing behind fences or in exhibits designed to make them feel in their natural habitat, was often times breath taking. Elephants, monkeys, giraffes, zebras, just cruising along; the way God made them to enjoy the earth. On one occasion my wife asked that the car be stopped, so she could get out and take a picture of a herd of zebra moving at a focused and yet hurried pace. When she got back in the car, it was noted that they probably sensed danger as in a lion or tiger looking for dinner, why they were moving at that pace. My wife responded," oh now you tell me!" We witnessed the massive breathtaking Victoria Falls, where the Zambezi river pours what appears to be 1000 feet below; the crash to earths' bottom so fierce that it shoots the water thousands of feet into the air. This site from a distance seems like a mushroom cloud. But when the water returns to the earth the midst is as heavy as rain, causing a rainforest around its perimeter. You need a raincoat and an umbrella to stay dry. Huge rocks standing with bold confidence upon tiny rocks intrigued me. The atmosphere allowed these settlements to remain in those positions hundreds of years; only the tourists become uneasy as pictures are taken of the comfort of the rock's positions without a hint of avalanch. These and many more are what bring crowds to see the adventures of those who travel to the motherland, causing an unspeakable awe to the order of a higher being at work. Then the test of the inner worth of humanity reveals itself. An untouchable appears without a thought of  a hand moving to capture on camera.

Africa is being stripped of its most valuable resource. Aids is taking the lives of many who have preserved the treasures of creation for centuries. And there are not many who would dare touch this epidemic or the people who suffer from it. One of my most challenging moments was in the baptismal pool in a church in downtown Bulawayo. Seventy nine people were lined up. These individuals had a change in their outlook on who they would have be Lord of their lives. As they were entering and leaving the pool with excitement of a new experience, I spotted him. Lesions covered his body, outbreaks in his skin were too many to count, but his eyes were lit up to get in that pool and bury the old life and start living the new life. He was counting those ahead of him. He wanted me to baptize him. I didn't want to touch him, but he wanted me to touch him. As a follower of Christ, I was now faced with getting out of the line. No gloves, no chlorine, no mask, no spray. Only the Holy Spirit now saying, you can't break his heart by not touching him. He enters the pool. I baptized him. He hugs me with a long and grateful hug. He dies a year later. My life has never been the same.