when faith is beautiful

I don't talk a lot about my faith. Some of my friends appreciate this about me, and other friends would probably see it as a shortcoming. Because I am surrounded by a lot of people who believe differently than I do, I am very sensitive to and aware of the way that Christians are perceived. And it honestly doesn't surprise me--although it saddens me--that Christians are often derided or even despised, because, let's face it, there are a whole lot of Christians out there who aren't very Christ-like.

I will be one of the first people to admit that sometimes, faith produces ugly things. I have seen it often, where people of faith will push an idea or legislation that is hateful, basing it on a so-called "Christian" agenda. And it makes me cringe. It saddens and angers me. And it discourages me.

But then sometimes, I am reminded in amazing ways that faith can also be, and should be, beautiful. In its purest and truest forms, faith produces beautiful things. I found one of these reminders recently, and I thought I would share it, because it encouraged me.

In one of my blog-to-blog link clicking episodes, I stumbled upon a blog of a girl that I used to volunteer with at CCC. She now works for World Vision, where she helps secure sponsorships for children in Africa. She recently went through one of those introspective periods of contemplating "why do I do what I do?" and she blogged about one of the defining moments that helped her answer that question. I have copied her entry below, slightly edited for length.

"I remember a defining moment, my "This is what I want to dedicate my life to" epiphany. It was roughly 11 years ago. I had just moved to Nashville from Los Angeles to work full time with World Vision. Three days after arriving in Nashville, I climbed on a tour bus with a band called Big Tent Revival. We had 3 shows to do in 4 days, one of them being a 10:00am show for a Junior High Lock-In somewhere outside St. Paul, Minnesota.

I thought to my skeptical self... we aren't going to get one single sponsorship at this event. Now, don't get me wrong. I adore junior highers. I really do. And though I enjoy their energy and verve, I knew producing any results for my "job" was sketchy, at best.

[At the lock-in] I returned to my World Vision table set up, filled with a few dozen picture folders of kids' faces and stories. Already at my table was a young "lock-in" victim... apparently not interested in the festivities happening in the other room. Darla (she'd told me when I asked her name) had a wildly-matted mane of thick copper hair, shiny silver braces, chubby freckled cheeks with dense, coke-bottle glasses that wedged a permanent red crease into the crest of each plump apple. She was shy, quiet, awkward. But she stayed at the table... picking up each folder... reading each child's story... studying each of them closely.

I simply chalked it up to her boredom. Or needing something to do? Possibly she was friendless? Or simply uninterested in the activities? But suddenly, she picked up one of the folders she'd studied earlier and with great determination... handed it to me. "Here", Darla said. "This is the one I want".
"Ummm", I offered. "You know that to sponsor a child takes $30.00 a month."
"Yes", she said matter-of-factly. "Here, I have $30 right here". And she handed me several sticky, wadded up bills.
"But you know, it takes $30 every month to sponsor this child. Are you prepared to do that?" I asked somewhat condescendingly.
"Yes", Darla repeated patiently... as her chubby finger pushed her smudged, thick glasses back up her nose, only to magnify and bulge her pretty green eyes. "You see, I have $352.48 at home. I've been saving for a long time. But I guess my contact lenses will have to wait another year. I wanna help her instead [pointing to picture]. I think God would like that."

I was speechless. Tears flooded my eyes and my bottom lip started dong that quiver thing. I immediately felt shame for my quick judgment and assumptions. But as Darla proceeded to fill out the sponsorship paper work... a light went on inside me. A light that filled my soul to the very brim. This shy awkward girl had every reason to spend her hard-earned savings on herself... to boost her self-esteem... to bring about a more confident Darla. But she understood something I apparently was still figuring out. It's not about her. It's not about me. It's about our Great Father, and what He wants to do in us and through us and around us.

When I joined the BTR guys on the bus later that day... I told them the story. And five grown rockstars wept... and then took $400 out of their weekend's earnings... and sent Darla a gift certificate to LensCrafters.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. But it was also the launch of a deep, deep passion. Not just for getting kids in Africa (or anywhere) sponsored... but a passion to discover Christ in unexpected and unlikely places. In the face and story of a small child in Uganda. In the chubby-cheeked smile of Darla as she happily sacrificed for another. In the tears of a rock band moved to compassion and generosity."

Thanks, Debbie B., for the reminder.