2020 World Mission Conference: Prayer Breakfast

The year is 2020, and I can’t resist the “vision” pun. I’ll probably use that a lot this year. And I’m not the only one out there loving that theme. As people are talking about “2020 Vision,” my prayer is that this year is a year of clarity – for myself, for us as a church, and for God’s kingdom in the world.
I’m actually preaching on Vision next Sunday, about how Epiphany is a time of seeing; and seeing is knowing. So you’ll hear some of my thoughts on that today, and then you’ll get to hear some more next week.
When I think about vision, I think about the hymn, “Be Thou My Vision.” The text was written by an unknown poet in the 8th century. In 1905, an Irish scholar Mary Elizabeth Byrne translated it into English. Later Eleanor Hull of England gave it rhyme and meter. Shortly after that, it was set to the traditional Irish folk song, a tune called “Slane” – an area where St. Patrick himself evangelized.
In the text, the poet asks God to be their vision, their wisdom, and their best thought. So that makes me think, what does it mean to ask God to be our vision? And how is our vision wrapped up in God’s vision?
Twelve years ago, I heard a song on the radio that has stuck with me ever since. Brandon Heath, in the chorus of his song “Give Me Your Eyes,” sings to God:

“Give me your eyes for just one second,
Give me your eyes so I can see,
Everything that I keep missing.
Give me your love for humanity.
Give me your arms for the broken-hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach.
Give me your heart for the ones forgotten.
Give me your eyes so I can see.”

The verses talk about a woman whose smile covers all the hurt she hides underneath her cheery exterior. They talk about a man who’s lost his job but is too ashamed to go home and tell his family. They talk about people living in confusion and chaos. The people we see every day, the people we pass by “a million times.”
I think this song has resonated with me for so long because I know that God sees all of us deeply, in ways that we will never understand. God sees the depth of our hearts, sees every thought and desire and feeling… and God still loves us. Scripture tells us that God’s ways are not our ways. And it makes me wonder if God’s vision is not our vision. Truly, God sees what we do not. I don’t know about you, but it is so easy for me to dismiss a person, to not see them fully… it’s easier to hold a person at arm’s length that way. It’s easier for me to hold suffering at arm’s length that way. But I know deep down that this is not how God calls us to see the world. And that is why, from time to time, I pray to see people with God’s eyes. I love the line that says, “Give me your eyes so I can see everything that I keep missing.” That’s what shapes our love for humanity, our graciousness and kindness towards one another. If I can see what I’ve been missing… if I can see the pain, or the dreams, or the shame, or the hurt of the past or the hope for the future that shapes a person… it might be easier to love them. I might be more moved to do something about the pain they’re experiencing.
The more I think about this song though, the more I wonder if we really need God’s eyes to do it. Are the eyes we’ve been equipped with enough to truly see what God wants us to see? Maybe they are, if we slow down enough to do the seeing…

In the Gospel According to John, chapter 1, John tells the disciples all about Jesus, declaring that he is indeed the Son of God! Then two of John’s disciples see Jesus walk by. They decide to follow him, and Jesus asks what they’re seeking. Then the disciples respond by asking Jesus where he is staying. It is then that Jesus beckons them, saying, “Come and see.”
Maybe our eyes are sufficient if we choose to follow Jesus, if we choose to come, stick around a while, and see what Jesus sees…
If I am honest, I will say that I am often too wrapped up in the busyness of my everyday life to make a spiritual practice of slowing down to see what God is putting right in front of me. I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one. The times when I have slowed down, when I have intentionally looked for Jesus so that I might follow, what I have seen has changed my life. I hope you’ll indulge me while I share a little bit about that with you.
On a fairly regular, fairly busy winter Wednesday in early 2012, I was sitting in this very room. I was probably contemplating lesson plans, as I was teaching 5th grade at the time. Maybe I was thinking about what was for dinner the next evening, or maybe even going over what Ashton might need from me – he was 7 at the time. I don’t know what exactly was going through my mind that night, but I guarantee you – even though I was sitting in church – it probably wasn’t God’s vision in the world.
I settled in to listen to the WOW program that evening. Linda Spencer, Mariette Tipton, and Debbie Holcombe from the Sisters of Zambia group began sharing the stories from their last trip to Zambia. They were telling stories about their adventures and their ministry in the orphanages, and something – that I now identify as Holy Spirit – gripped my soul and wouldn’t let go. The testimony from these women pulled me out of the hustle-and-bustle-of-every-day and forced me to slow down and SEE something: I saw the passion these women had for these babies, for these precious children of God – and their passion inspired me.
Fast forward to the following summer of 2013, and I boarded my first international flight to Zambia. Needless to say, it was a fascinating few weeks, and the things I saw were all at once vibrant and violent. The beauty and the hospitality of the Zambian people and landscape were breathtaking. The tragedies inflicted upon their most vulnerable also took my breath away. My favorite moments were spent with the infants, all who had been either single- or double-orphaned. Their room was upstairs, and it was often stifling hot. It had to be; it was the equivalent of an incubator for these fragile babies. The night that I learned about the horrors that some of these babies had been subjected to – things too terrible to even mention at a breakfast on a Saturday morning – I immediately went upstairs to rock babies, tears flowing down my cheeks and dripping on their little heads, as though my grief performed baptism after baptism.
Though I hadn’t expected to have my eyes opened like that, they were. I followed Jesus to Zambia, and it opened my eyes to the love the Savior has for all his children, for the weak and the forgotten, for the troubled and the heartbroken, for our neighbors across the globe, and for people living on the margins. It has shown me the miracle of people who have devoted their lives to loving and advocating for these children. And that has shaped my ministry in ways I cannot even begin to count.

The next year, in the summer of 2014, I traveled again with the Sisters, this time to Costa Rica. We worked with homegrown FPC missionary Sidney Eure Herrera at YWAM – Youth With A Mission. They primarily worked with victims of sex-trafficking in Costa Rica. We did vacation Bible school and Bible studies and arts and crafts during the daytime, but at night, the adults loaded up on vans to take coffee and cookie to sex slaves on the street.
Once again, my eyes were opened there – I vividly remember one night in particular. It was the first night we had gone out to do this particular ministry. As we drove around, we saw many people being “sold” – and the people who were “purchasing” them, many of the married American men. Sidney pointed out to us each of the trafficking victims, and my eyes rested on a boy standing alone on a corner. He was nine years old. Just one year older than my Ashton. I simultaneously couldn’t look at him and couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. This was someone’s child, this was a BABY. This was someone’s precious, someone’s beloved. I absolutely froze. (As a matter of fact, while writing this, I had to take a break…)
If you know me personally, you know that I am a talker and can have a conversation with nearly anyone. I’m outgoing, and as extroverted as they come – yet on these nights, I was essentially useless. I couldn’t get a word out. I didn’t know how to even move my own body. I couldn’t offer a cookie, much less comfort. I was shell-shocked, a zombie, a lump of human flesh barely animated enough to act. And at that moment, my eyes were opened. Not only to the horrors of sex-trafficking, but to the beautiful souls who are called to that ministry. For the desperate need of God’s hope across the world and in our neighborhoods where people fall prey to slavery, and the desperate need for people equipped to minister there. My eyes were opened to see that not everyone is called to every ministry, and I was immensely grateful to those who were called to this particular ministry because I surely was not. To this day, I still give thanks for the brave people who walk those streets handing out coffee and cookies, sharing the love of Christ. How brutal. How beautiful.

Jumping ahead a few years, I spent January of 2019 in Central Europe. While in Hungary, we met mission workers who helped with Gypsy children who lived in Budapest. The Gypsies are a minority in Hungary, and because they are brown-bodied and have a different culture, they are often abused and marginalized in Hungarian society. I won’t bore you with the politics of it, but I was astounded at the blatant racism we witnessed. We met some pastors who worked with elementary age Gypsy children in an after-school program. School is mandatory for Hungarian children – unless they’re Gypsy. He was telling us that working with these children challenged his mindset about what to teach in that program after overhearing a conversation between two six-year-olds one day. They were coloring pictures at a table when the little girl said to the little boy, “When I grow up, I’m going to be a prostitute. But not a cheap one; I’m going to be a classy prostitute like my big sister.” The boy, continuing to color, said, “Maybe I could be your pimp!” Without missing a beat, the girl replied, “Okay. As long as you don’t hit me.” They were six years old.
It was then that my eyes were opened to the lingering effects of systemic racism and how these children could conceive of no future outside of begging for food or selling their bodies. The pastor said he had to rethink the entire afterschool program for these children. He said, “I can’t sit here and tell them that they need to make good grades in order to get a good job one day. In this country, that is not a likelihood for them. So I had to think of a new reason for them to put effort into their schoolwork.” He said that he finally realized the motivation they needed was wonder. The pastor told them that God has a wonderful, wide imagination and that God has created an incredible world for them to live in. So the reason we should study hard and learn all that we can is so that we too can experience the awe and wonder that God had in creating all of it. His eyes were opened as he realized that this was, after all, a much better reason for all of us to learn. It opened my eyes to see the creativity and openness needed for that kind of ministry.

Friends, I tell you these stories not to depress you or fill you with dismay, but to illustrate how little we know of the heartaches of this world if we stay in our comfort zones. As Brandon Heath stated in his song, “Give Me Your Eyes,” it is possible for us to go through our lives as if we are wearing blinders – missing out on God’s love for humankind, missing out on the need to extend love to the broken-hearted, missing out on people who live on the margins and are often ignored and forgotten. We’re missing out on the good and beautiful work being done around the world with our brothers and sisters. We miss out on so much if we don’t slow down enough to really look at the world and the people around us.
And lest you think that these kinds of stories and traumas only occur in other nations, I invite you to accompany me on a shift at the hospital. The horrors of child abuse, rampant racism, and hopelessness exist right in our backyards. Right in our town. In our neighborhoods. I’ve seen it in Gainesville. I’ve seen it at Braselton. I’ve seen it in the classroom, in emergency rooms, even in the youth room…
As Margaret and I were discussing these stories, she reminded me of the story of Saul’s journey on the Road to Damascus. Along the road, he was struck blind, and remained unable to see for three days. Once Ananias laid hands on Saul, his sight was restored and he was called Paul. We read this story and realize that, though Paul had previously been able to physically see, he had been spiritually blind. Though he had looked around, he hadn’t really seen what God was laying right in front of him.
I think about my life prior to all of these stories I’ve shared with you this morning, and I feel as though I was wearing blinders to the world before these experiences. As Saul had a change in vision on the road to Damascus, I too had a change in vision on the road to Zambia, on the road to Costa Rica, on the road to Hungary. I know those stories seem gray and full of gloom, and it is too tempting to tell God, “Stop it! I’ve seen enough! I don’t want to see anymore.” It’s almost too easy to say that we don’t want to keep seeing what’s out there. But I think that God is calling each of us to be brave – to keep looking. If we keep our eyes open, if we continue to look, to see what God is showing us, we will see that these are not only stories of despair, but they are also stories of hope. Hope that if we are brave enough to keep our eyes open, we might see what we’ve been missing – God’s redemptive love for the world in action, right before our every eyes.
I’m thinking again about the questions I posed earlier. What does it mean to ask God to be our vision? How is our vision wrapped up in God’s vision? And is our own vision sufficient to see what God wants to show us?

There’s an ancient Hebrew practice called Chavruta. It’s when we gather in groups (the word is Aramaic for companionship) and ask questions. When you ask a question, you attempt to answer it yourself first. Then you give your companions a chance to answer.
So let us practice Chavruta now. Since I asked the questions, I'll be the first to try to answer them.

What does it mean to ask God to be our vision?
• It’s certainly not something to ask lightly – I commend the 8th century poet who wrote that
• It’s acknowledging that we want to see things God’s way, not the way literally anyone else sees it. It’s looking through a God-lens, not an American lens, not a Western society lens… not a cultural lens…
• And that’s scary! Asking for God’s vision to be our vision might not be socially acceptable, it might go against norms and expectations our culture has set up
• It’s literally placing God at the top, which we know we’re supposed to do, but how often do we (myself definitely included) actually do it?

How is our vision wrapped up in God’s vision?
• If we claim to follow Christ, if we desire to walk with him, to see what he is willing to show us, then our vision has the possibility to align with God’s vision
• But that’s tricky. We have to be open to believing what Jesus shows us. We can’t go in and declare it “fake news.” We’ve got to believe what we see.
• And I think what Jesus is showing us is radical love – often love for people who we are invited to hate, to ridicule, to abandon, to claim that they deserve less than we do…
• There has to be a willingness to see and accept God’s vision in order for our own to be wrapped up with God’s
And is our own vision sufficient to see what God wants to show us?
• This too is tricky…
• If we don’t take the time to stop, if we don’t in some way embark on a journey in order to see… we could remain like Saul, going through life without ever really seeing what God is putting right in front of us
• But if we focus our eyes first on God, if we decide to truly follow Jesus, then we too will be invited to come and see
• If we slow down enough, really open our eyes – and keep them open – to the world around us, then I think our own vision might be just enough to see a little more humanity, a little more of the pain and suffering in the world
• And if we are brave enough to stay in the pain for a moment, then we’ll notice more than just horror and heartbreak… we’ll see the beauty and the brightness of God’s redemptive love at work in all places…
• in Zambia, in Costa Rica, in Hungary… in Gainesville, in Braselton, in Flowery Branch, in Murrayville…
• we’ll see it everywhere we go, if we’re willing and brave enough…
• We’ll never see it the way God does, not on this side of the veil anyway, but I think we can see well enough if we focus first on God

Now, my friends, my companions, it’s time for you to share some of your thoughts to these questions as we continue Chavruta. Take a few minutes to discuss these at your tables. You can try to answer all 3, or you can focus on one or two.

[5-10 minutes for chavruta]

My prayer for us, at this year’s World Mission Conference, is that we might align our vision with God’s. That we might truly invite God to be our vision. And that God might work in and through us so that we might see whatever it is God wants to show us.
So let us close our time together this morning by praying for our missionaries. I suggest we continue our chavruta practice with one another by praying with companions. So let’s pray together in groups of 2 or 3 at each table. In your companion pairs or small groups, choose one mission to pray for. Take turns praying for that particular mission and the missionaries we are supporting. I know it can be scary to pray things out loud, but we can do scary things – I promise!
After you’ve prayed aloud, each of us can take some time to pray silently that these missionaries will have their eyes opened to what God wants them to see as they follow God’s call. Then let us each pray individually that God will open our eyes to see the very real – sometimes raw, sometimes wondrous, always radically redemptive – ways that God is moving in the world. Pray that we might slow down and stay long enough to see God’s love for the whole world. There are reminders about these prayers on another sheet of paper on your tables.
Let us pray.

[allow time for prayer]

Closing Prayer

Holy God, we give thanks to you this morning as we gather together to pray for our missionaries.
We give thanks for each of these missionaries and the good, hard, holy work they are doing.
We give you thanks for people who hear Your call and heed it.
We also give you thanks for stories, O God,
stories that show the complexities of your world
and reminders that you are indeed working for redemption in the middle of it all.
We give you thanks for road to Damascus stories,
for the ways you call to us, for the ways you invite us to follow Jesus,
for the times you’ve plunked us down in the middle of hardship,
for the way you call each of us to be brave – to keep looking…
so that you might open our eyes to your wonderful work.
Be with us now as we leave this place,
meet us along the roads on which we travel.
Be thou our vision, Lord,
as scary as that is to ask, as hard as that it is to request,
align our visions with yours,
keep our eyes opened,
for the good of your kingdom here on earth.
Amen.