She looked out the small airplane window over the vast desert that lay below. As far as the eye could see. Sand. Tan, dead, wasteland spotted with hills and lifeless vegetation. The plane landed and after all the usual airport business she and the rest of the mission team finally set foot onto Mexican soil. Immediately heat smacked her in the face. She’d never felt heat like this. Excited for the week of evangelism and ministry to come, she crawled in the hot van not sure if it looked sturdy enough to hold fifteen people. She was so confident in the work her and her team were about to do this week. But little did she know that the trip would change her own heart more than the hearts she would serve that week.
Fast forward a few days. In the thick of ministry and serving, the team took an afternoon off from Vacation Bible School to participate in a prayer walk around the town. They visited the homes of some of the church members and prayed over their families and homes. Onto the park, they journeyed, to pray for the children who used the playground equipment on a daily basis. In the back of her mind she thought, “This town is going to be changed because of us. We are doing so much for them.” How arrogant it was of her to think this! Their final stop on the prayer walk was the elementary school located just across the main highway from the rest of the town. As the team approached the school emotion overcame her. The run down building with no windows or doors overflowed with more children than was comfortable. All the children, dressed in their dirty, worn uniforms greeted the team with huge toothless grins and warm hugs. She recognized some of the kids from the neighborhood they were staying in. She knew their stories. Broken homes. Divorce. Abuse. Extreme poverty. No positive influence. Her team leader asked her to pray for the school and for the kids aloud. Immediately tears streamed down her face. As she choked out a prayer she felt small hands slip around her waist and looked down to see the familiar, warm smile of one of the girls she had met and played with earlier in the week. With a reassuring nod, the girl squeezed her tight as she continued her prayer. All she could think of was the arrogance she had towards the ministry she had taken part in that week. At this very moment she was receiving comfort and support from someone who seemed so weak and so small. Someone whose life circumstances were much less fortunate than her own. She, as well as the tiny Mexican girl that held her close, was a child of God. No matter what her race, religion, ethnicity, or socioeconomical status. It took her a trip thousands of miles away from her home to realize something that she had been taught numerous times. “Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and coheirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory” Romans 8:16-17
