The Needs and The Wants

A year ago I was in Vegas handing out water bottles to prostitutes struggling to find shelter from the high sun in the shadow of concrete walls, the sidewalk burning the bottom of their bare feet, but they never seemed to noticed. The undervalued Princess slowly wastes away from no one stopping to notice the dignity she carries. The one bearing the image of the Divine Creator is deprived of her needs for she is now given worth by how she meets another's wants.

And a year later I am a waitress in Kansas, where a successful night is determined by the number left on the tip line or the bills left on the table. Where customers somehow have determined they have the privilege to dehumanize a server through words because there is too much ice in their water.

I am reading a book by Jefferson Bethke called It's Not What You Think. In the book he defines an idol as that which we acquire our satisfaction, worth and value from.

Many idols subtly enter our lives. We idolize ourselves for thirty minutes while we are out to eat: as we are being served somehow we find ourselves as the god who deserves the lowly server to meet our every want and desire, most of which are not vocalized but somehow expected to be known and met.

Then we leave the restaurant, upset when our wants were not met, and somehow find ourselves justified to bash the server and tell all our friends and family how terrible of a job they did. And when we see the server, who did not meet our wants, at Wal-mart or church or climbing into their car across the street, we remember the time they did not meet our wants, and the self-righteousness in us grows a little stronger.

And suddenly, we have determined their worth and value simply by how well they met our needs. We place ourselves a little higher up, and push them a little farther down. We bypass all of who they were created to be and define them by how they failed to fulfill our wants.

[[I have gone from serving the needs, to serving the wants.]]

{{and I wonder if I was the one speaking life or death}}

Here's the thing: my worth and value do not come from anything found on this Earth.

My worth and my value is not found in a number or in a customer's satisfaction or in a job title. My worth and my value is not something I set myself or I do to acquire more of or I do to take away from. My worth and my value is something I choose to accept and to walk in. My worth and my value were set in the days of old, when Abba started dreaming about the day I would finally walk the Earth. He set my worth and my value when He so tenderly formed me. His finger prints cover my body, no amount of scrubbing could ever remove them. My image is that of His, no amount of denying could ever change that. The air that first filled my lungs came directly from His, no amount of science could ever say otherwise.

Abba spoke life and passion into my soul. He calls me Child, Beloved, Accepted. He is madly in love with me. Even when I mix up food and drinks orders, He does not turn away in disgust; He is not ashamed or embarrassed when I fail to meet the standards and expectations of others. He shouts from Heaven, "BELOVED! KEEP GOING! I LOVE YOU AND I TAKE JOY IN YOU!"

There is this incredible capacity we humans carry with us: the capacity to allow Heaven to crash into Earth. Heaven crashes into Earth when we speak life and truth over each other. Heaven invades Earth when we reaffirm and empower others to walk in their original design. We were children sitting at the table long before we were lost runaways. Abba is waiting, He is pacing around the dining hall, waiting and longing for His child to return so He can embrace us and reseat us at the table.

The capacity I carry is to remind you of the seat chiseled out just for you at the table.

The capacity you carry is to remind me of the seat chiseled out just for me at the table.

So here's to the needs and the wants and all that is in between. All the empty places where worth and value are sought after, but never found. All the places we reflect the Maker of Light or the Father of Lies. All the places we are given the wild freedom of choice to acknowledge His presence, but somehow are never able to escape it.

Thailand: Check!

When Jesus sent out His 12 disciples commanding them to go to the lost sheep, I never thought He would send me out with 14 others representing a multitude of nations to the lost sheep of the Karen and Burmese people. (Matt. 10:6)

When Jesus sent His disciples out and told them to not be anxious when they are placed before man, for Holy Spirit would provide the words for them to say, I never thought He would say to me, "Do not fear what you will say when teaching monks English, for I will provide words for you." (Matt. 10:19,20)

Or when Jesus said to love the little children, He would take me on long bumpy tuck rides through to the jungle to do so. (Matt. 18:10)

Or when Jesus said where two or more are gathered so He too will be, I never thought it would meaning sharing a house with fourteen other crazy Jesus lovers to dance and sing before Him. (Matt. 18:20)

Or when Jesus sent His disciples out, filling them with all authority in Heaven and on Earth to make disciples of all nations, baptizing them and teaching them to observe all Jesus has commanded us, I never thought it would mean going into the villages of Thailand, dancing with the children, baptizing them with the spirit of joy, and teaching their parents of the Good News." (Matt. 28:18-20)

Or when Jesus said to love your neighbor as yourself, I never thought it would mean loving braiding little girl's hair as much as I love having my hair braided. (Matt. 22:39)

Or when Jesus said to feed the sick, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless and comfort those in distress, I never thought it would mean farming on a boy's half-way home to provide them with nutrient rich organic food, enabling them with energy and health to have income based jobs so they can have a home and clothing. (Matt. 25:35)

As YWAM Thailand has so eloquently rewritten:

If I speak with the tongue of a national, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or clanging cymbal. 
If I wear the national dress and understand the culture and all forms of etiquette, and if I copy all the mannerisms so that I could pass for a national, but have not love, I am nothing.
If I give all I possess to the poor, and if I spend my energy without reserve, but have not love, I am nothing.
Love endures long hours of language study, and is kind to those who mock his accent, love does not envy those who stayed at home, love does not exalt his home culture, is not proud of national superiority.
Love does not boast about the way we do it back home, does not seek his own ways, is not easily provoked into telling about the beauty of his home country, does not think evil of this culture.
Love bears all criticism about his home culture, believes all good things about this new culture, confidently anticipates being at home in this place, endures all inconveniences.
Love never fails, but where there is cultural anthropology, it will fail, where there is linguistics, it will change.
For we know only part of the culture and we minister to only part of the culture.
But when Christ is reproduced in this culture, then our inadequacies will be insignificant.
When I was in Holland* I spoke as a Dutchie* I understood as a Dutchie* I thought as a Dutchie*, but when I left Holland*, I put away Dutch* things.
Now we adapt to this culture awkwardly, but He will live in it intimately, now I speak with a strange accent, but He will speak to the heart.
And now these three remain; cultural adaptation, language study and love, but the greatest of these is love. 
* fill in your own nationality

But this is only part of my story. In C.S Lewi's book, The Boy and His Horse, Aslan says "Child, I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own." This is only part of my story. The wild ride began long ago and has yet to end. My story is not your story, my wild ride is not your wild ride. And that is part of the adventure: seeing and hearing and running with others who are passionately and deeply in enthralled with the wildness of our crazy loving Abba.

The Human Nature

We have moved locations from Chiang Mai to a town on the board of Myanmar to a town called Mae Sot. Our house is basic. Our beds require mosquitoes nets, the walls bear signs of water damage and mold, our toilets, though they be western, require us to dump water in them and the stove top burners house many spiders and ants. Oh, the ants! Everywhere! The room I am staying in has a dim light bulb you plug into the wall socket (unlike 1.6 billion people in the world who have no electricity) and the door stays shut with a piece of yarn and rubber band contraption.

Our last location was a nice house. Basic kitchen and a typical Asian shower, meaning the wall facet drains across the entire floor into a drain or hole in the wall. But there our toilets were western flushing. I shared a king bed with our own bathroom. Luxurious for over 80% of the world's population.

Our ministries have varied from farming for a half-way house, to teaching in boys juvenile prison, to teaching monks English, to praying for people in government hospitals, to building playgrounds and playing with children. Our meals have mostly consisted of random roadside food stands with the most killer pad Thai I have ever had! Evangelism has been difficult as to us having zero Thai, however when we meet someone who does not speak any English we have Thai tracts and Bibles to give them.

Here in Mae Sot the Pastor will simply say, "Okay, perform." Meaning skit song, or testimony. We have joined with a YWAM team from Wisconsin who warned us, yet we were still unprepared.

My human nature took the best of me with the untold of expectations. We were expected to have songs and skits at the ready, something our team did not. We were expected to have Bible lessons and testimonies at the ready, something our team, when unexpectedly asked, was not prepared with.

I was upset when I was asked to tell a story about God working in my life. I was upset at the opportunity to share a Bible story. I was upset when given a soap box from which I could proclaim the greatest love story ever written.

Insert the human nature of self entitlement.

I suppose I could list off many verses or quotes about Jesus never promising safety, comfortable, blah blah blah. Much less life. Life never promised me any of this.

Life never guaranteed when my dad removed my bike's training wheels and let go of me I would remain upright, never acquiring scared knees. Life never promised me a great K-12 education, brains ready to soak up deep philosophical discussions or the natural motivation to study my buns off. Life never promised me a a 9-5 job void of tedious resume writings and worrisome interviews. Life never promised me airplane rides with abundance of leg room, delicious food and stench free seat neighbors (or me always being the stench neighbor).

My human nature of self entitlement whispers the lie I need to know so I can prepare. I need to prepare a five point, theologically sound, with a few well known Christian quotes thrown in here and there, sermon to be presentable. I need to be prepared to harmonize in song and be a flawless actresses in skits. I need to prepare to eliminate all possibilities of blunders or embarrassments.

My human nature of self entitlement goes back to the idea of being comfortable so I may achieve some untold of standard of acceptable, so I can pass some ludicrous idea of what it is conqueror some moment with great brilliance.

Somewhere, in my self entitlement, in my planning, the wild spontaneity of God is removed. The mystery of the Gospel is no longer needed for the infinite questions are somehow concluded with finite answers. The excitement of new food and risk of diarrhea is rejected in finding the clean mundane western restaurant. The joy of being loved is taken away in being weary of head lice, scabies and unwashed bodies. The crazy love He has for me, the wild adventures He has planned for me, or the beauty of His widespread creation would never be known if I stayed within the small confines of my human nature.

Our worst and greatest team selfie yet.