Prayer from a Mission Trip

It's Morning, Jesus
In that land of mission
Where many huddled under Satan's curse
We met under Heaven's blessing.
In that land of ministry
Where many feed idols at their doorways
With the incense of doomed hope
And the false measures of success
We gathered in the real hope of Christ
And knew in cross-bearing ministry
The crucifxion of the flesh
The slaying of selfishness
The remarkable empyting of our lives
To you.
In that land of service for others
We had to take up that second cross,
Our cross, not your cross
And follow you to a place of self denial
Where our appetites for more were trampled upon
Where our jealousies and envies were crushed
Where our drive for power was revealed
As empty, fruitless, dangerous and void.
At the altar of that church of need
We met out own need
Bent down and weeping at the altar
Flesh crucified
Flesh weeping
Flesh cringing.
In that place of mission
We saw the have nots who have
And the haves who have not
Our expensive digital cameras
Could not capture the glory on their faces
For their glory was not of the flesh,
But of the Spirit.
Our plane tickets did not take us to the place
Of their spiritual filling
But to the gates of sacrificial opportunity...
The gates they go in and out of every day.
We left
They stayed
We came home to refrigerators full
They kept the empty pantries of their stomachs
Open to the filling of God.
We awakened to look at our check books and our balances
They awakened to look for daily bread.
One is of the flesh
The other of the Spirit
Show us the way.

Amen