Team Five Morris

As we traveled to the big family reunion and thought of all the cousins, aunts and uncles I could hear there words before I arrived “I never woulda thought!.......etc. Etc.” That was until I saw my cousin Glenda (who is more like an aunt). During my wild days she would always tell me “how it was” and wouldn't give me much slack. While most of my family judged me and told me what I was doing wrong, she would encourage me towards my potential. At this last reunion when I saw her she hugged me and whispered in my ear “ I knew you would come around.” Unconditional acceptance. It was like I had never been a rat-bag kid. Glenda showed me what the prodigal son must have felt like coming home. There was no long speech, no finger in the chest expressing the error of his ways. Open arms, like the arms Jesus has open for all who would come. Her love bore with it truth and grace and the ability to love me with the love of Jesus.

Many ask me why we are leaving to Uganda as missionaries. Some ask, "Why Africa?". Others ask, "Aren't you worried about your kids?". One of my personal favorites is "What are YOU going to do there?". I thought I would spend some time trying to answer them here.

Let's start with my favorite, "What are You going to do there?". This question implies they know me and wonder what I might have to offer. It also implies this missionary thing is something I planned or that I orchestrated. Although I am excited about going, I recognize that God has a long history of using people who would seem unqualified with the typical world view.

• Moses - Sheepherder with a pride problem who had killed a few people
• Noah - Slow working alcoholic
• Abraham - Adulterer who pimps out his wife
• David - Another lying, murdering adulterer
• Solomon - What did he not do?
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Our bags are packed. The bills are paid. We forwarded our mail and have a full tank of gas. Last Tuesday, the bank lady called on Tuesday and said our buyers' loan was finalized and are ready to close. As this was earlier than expected, we only had 4 boxes packed and had started wondering if this long-shot deal would even go through. The buyers are a young couple who moved here about 3 months ago and at the time of our buy/sell agreement had no jobs! As it turns out, there is no reason to doubt. With some help from some friends (and a some added caffeine), we are now packed, ready to close and eager to start traveling  to say goodbye to friends and family in Portland and Seattle!

In the midst of all the boxes and packing paper, I had to stop and think. I could hear Aiden and Hannah orchestrating a new game to play while Ben would chime in with a random comment or question. Their voices echoed through the open window and bounced off the barren walls where pictures of our life here once hung. I couldn't help but remember catching Hannah as she took her first breath or pulling Ben up to his mom for the first time. (Loring delivered both of them in this house.) I wondered if I will remember the feel of the rough slate underfoot in the kitchen or miss hearing the creaks in the floor as one went from the hallway into the dining room. I sat at the dining room table remembering all the meals we had  with friends and family. As a car drives by the front, I noticed the maple trees full with leaves and the late afternoon sun pouring in the front window.

I presented a sermonette at church a couple of weeks ago and later it occurred to me that a little explanation was required as I had missed a few details. I had been picking on the religious people who hold up signs that say “Turn or Burn” or “You’re a Baby Killer” or spit out the words, “Repent!” on the evening news. Though these are extreme examples, I think we tend toward the more subtle version of their thinking. I’ve held those signs up in my heart and thoughts. I’ve become offended by the sinner and slyly say, “They need Jesus”, while standing with my hands stuffed in back pockets refusing to pray or engage them to encounter Jesus. We tend to forget that they can be clothed with the same righteousness of Jesus that we’re clothed with. Jesus stood on a hill overlooking Jerusalem and wept. He was broken over the lostness of the very people who would torture, kill and ridicule Him. When is the last time we cried over the lostness of the abortion doctor, or the Muslim extremists or drove by the strip club sad for the girls, girls, girls, who need to know only one man, the God man Jesus.