I have a very shiny, magnetic nametag. In about 22pt. type, someone has correctly spelled my name and stamped it deep in the metal faced, plastic backed thing that hovers just beneath my right shoulder, a weighted reminder of where I am.
I'm at HopeWorks, a "small" ministry of the churches of Christ. I say "small," because we're headquartered in the basement of another church right now. I say "small" because our staff consists of about 7 full-time people and one extremely full-time volunteer (about whom I'll have much more to say later). I say "small" because in tangible ways, this ministry doesn't make a huge geographic blip on anyone's corporate radar.
As I sit at my desk during a brief lull, watching an apple cinnamon tea bag bleed brightly into the once-clear water of my cup, I realize how "small" we are, but how God uses the small to accomplish the big.
We have opportunity to change lives - the lives of more than a dozen people at a time. For 13 weeks, we help bring them out of their day-to-day. I sometimes wish we could rapture them from their worlds, but instead we are given the ministry of sharpening the tools God has given them to
change their worlds. It never ceases to amaze me the transformations that explode the fragile shells of prejudice, stereotype, and perceived potential.
Kip said last night that we're all jars of clay, all crumbling and some near-shattered. But it's in that brokenness, through those cracks and that absolute reliance on something other than our own internal fortitude to sustain us, and through those imperfections that the Glory of God shines through. Because his strength is indeed made perfect in our weakness.
Working here is a constant blessing to a humble, crumbling vessle.
