Hands and Feet

A few Saturday's ago Barney and I, with about a hundred of our closest church friends, volunteered at a very under privileged area of Birmingham. Our job was simply to love on people, serve the community, and spread the gospel.

I'm not sure how to even put the day into words. I've never been on an overseas mission trip and I'm sure they are life changing, but right now I feel called to serve in my own community. It's amazing the need if you just look in your own back yard.

Spending that one day helping others left me completely humbled, amazed, grateful, and exhausted. Here are some images that will be forever etched into my mind:

Early morning on July 16th, we arrive in an area of town known as La Quemada, which means Burnt City. We joined forces with our Hispanic campus and spent the morning praying and picking up trash throughout the five block community.

I'm a much better prayer warrior than yard warrior, but I did do my fair share of manual labor. See exhibit A for evidence:

I wonder what the residence thought when they saw all these people in red shirts with trash bags walking up and down their streets!

I enjoyed the early morning time the most because it was semi-cool (for late July in Alabama) and quiet, which let me soak it all in. While I was looking around, I kept thinking of the lyrics of the song "Hosanna" by Hillsong. "Heal my heart and make it clean. Open up my eyes to the things unseen. Show me how to love like you have loved me. Break my heart for what breaks yours. Everything I am for your kingdom's cause. As I go from nothing, to eternity."

Honestly, it’s hard for me to reconcile it in my mind and understand why I am blessed with so much, when others have so little. I believe as strongly as I believe anything that God is good, but that morning it was hard to understand all His ways.

Most of the residents were still in their houses because it was so early, so we attempted to make friends with the four legged neighbors. 

(Except if said neighbor was a pit-bull over the age of six months.)

We even found Smokey's Hispanic hombre. James called him Fuego (that means fire for those of you who don't have my extensive Spanish vocabulary of three words) and he is the spiting image of Smokey. Please see exhibit B:

Obviously Smokey is a bit more pampered and probably wouldn't last a night in Fuego's neighborhood. I mean...he sleeps with a fleece blanket that has flying cats all over it made especially for him by one of his grandmothers. That just screams, "please beat me up!"

I digress...

After the prayer walk and clean up, we switched into party planning mode. The afternoon consisted of a cookout of epic proportion and tons of fun activities for the kids.

The following picture just makes me laugh. I wonder what these guys thought of the food we were serving! 

On a much lighter note...One of my friends asked a child if he knew Jesus (she even used his Spanish name Jesús). : ) The little boy replied, "Yeah, I know him, but he moved away about a month ago."

My friend laughed and said, "No, I mean Jesús...the son of God." The little boy said, "Yeah...that's not the same boy. I'd know if he was that important."

Love it!

It was an honor being the hands and feet of Christ that day. "Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it." 1 Cor 12:27