I will do my best not to bore you with mission trip blogs. I have to say though, if anything I write about this trip bores you, you’re pretty much stupid, and your reading skills might not be up to par anyway.
I know when most people think about mission trips they think about being in really bad conditions. They think you work really hard, but kind of like child birth, it’s so rewarding that all you remember are the good parts. I suppose this trip was no different. Until…….. A leader arose from this motley crew of missionaries, to stand up for the rights of those of us who may have been under appreciated.
Ken, now known as Dr. Kirby, arose from his meager duties at the autoclave to form a union. First, he did what any good leader would do, he appointed people to important positions. I was appointed spokesperson of the group. If one had a problem, they had to go through me to get to Dr. Kirby. Scott, the former professional wrestler, aka Mule Skinner, would be known as the strong arm of the group. Should anyone need a little “persuading” The Mule Skinner was our man! John, who seemed to be all in, and very knowledgable in the ways of the union, was appointed union president. Now, all we had to do was acquire eighteen signatures to complete the union that would forever be known as A More Perfect Union.
Little did we know that we would have to utilize the strong arm. One dang Yankee named Hester, would be a tough nut to crack. Scott really roughed her up. He threatened to “kill” her Internet. Needless to say, she signed. Once the word got out about what had happened to Hester, as a true southerner would say, ” Didn’t nobody want none of that!” Only one would not sign, that would be the dang Texan, John Thomas; and anyone who knows anything, knows you can’t scare a Texan or a Mexican. Yet, God provided enough signatures.
What followed after the forming of the union was nothing short of a miracle. A young man in prison, who’s arm had been badly burned, and had grown to his side, walked out that day, for the first time in four years, with his t-shirt on properly. Our medical team, who’d banded together for the cause, separated the boys arm, using only local anesthesia. They didn’t make a dime. Their pictures weren’t in the papers. The received no special recognition, yet they lovingly, and sacrificially used the talents God had graciously given them, for His glory. And even though the doctors and nurses did the operating, none if it could’ve been accomplished without the entire team. A more perfect union!
Even Scott, our strong arm, who spent his time entertaining the prisoners by arm wrestling them and giving out gum and candy, played a significant role. One might’ve looked from the outside in and thought he wasn’t working. If you ask me though, making those guys laugh and feel good, meant just as much as anything else anyone could’ve done.
We’re a team, a union. We are THE church! Banding together to help people, and having fun while doing so. This is what loving Christ and loving others is all about; a perfect union of imperfect, people from all different walks of life working side by side, getting things done, even if it, sometimes, requires threatening to kill an Internet connection.
I appeal to you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another so that there may be no divisions among you and that you may be perfectly united in mind and thought. (*Lest the Mule Skinner get ya!) 1 Corinthians 1:10