Front Porch To The Ends Of The Earth

This morning a group of ten people left Christ's Church on a mission trip to Caracas, Venezuela for a week to assist our missionaries there.

A year ago today I was in Venezuela. It's hard to believe it was that long ago. It was such a rewarding experience: we were able to fellowship with Christian believers from another country, we helped complete some important projects at a summer camp for inner city youths, and I finally got my money's worth out of Ms. Riedmatter's high school Spanish. I look forward to returning there someday.

As I reflect on that trip, my fondest memory is a not-so-spiritual one. Antony was this college-age guy that I bonded with. He was a newer Christian from the church down there. I taught him how to play Euchre, which is really no big deal, but he didn't know a word of English. After two laborious nights of my broken espanol, he finally got it. The day I hugged him good-bye he had tears in his eyes. I wasn't expecting that and was surprised then when I felt a tear stream down my face. I had only known him for a week, and I had impacted his life. Isn't that the beauty of mission trips? They're a blessing to all involved parties. I'm sure I took away for than I gave.

I know if you've been a mission trip, you probably have a similar or even better story. Maybe if we viewed life as one big mission trip we'd enjoy life more than we ever imagined. Maybe we'd impact lives. Maybe we'd be able to change the world.