It never stops shocking me senseless, how grace appears in the most outlandish packages. One would think that after knowing God for a while, I'd be used to it by now. Used to the trapdoor, behind the curtain, viola methods of the Creator, and jaded into ho-hum boredom at His antics - and yet...I am finally accepting this once and for all (until next time)(no, I mean it): I just can't know how something is going to work out flawlessly when I step out in faith, until grace shows up and saves the day. Again. Afresh. Like its never happened before. Exactly like last time. 
I just had one of those crazy wild experiences of an event going beautifully, when what I expected was an uphill battle. Why am I surprised? Why do I feel like such an idiot for being this shocked that God does what he says he will do? Every. Single. Time.
Yesterday I hosted a screening of the documentary film, As We Forgive, at a local theater. The planning began October 4, when I summoned the guts to ask some questions which were met with unexpected enthusiasm at the Wilton Town Hall Theatre. What began as a little crazy dream - to offer As We Forgive to a public audience and promote local P.E.A.C.E.- became a reality. The outcome was different than I imagined - which is kind of exactly what I expected :) (read that twice)
A small crowd gathered for the viewing Sunday Nov. 15th in a vintage theater quite a bit off the beaten path. Some friends and some strangers decided to come and see what all this talk of reconciliation in Rwanda is about. Afterward, we shared Rwandan coffee (mmm, so good, thanks to Land of A Thousand Hills Coffee), pictures and stories.
But what we really shared was hope, in many different shapes and sizes. My hope that someone would care that God is moving with sure-footed purpose in a war-torn nation of good hearted people. Hope in Rwanda is the same stuff we run on here in America. A stranger's hope that going to see some random documentary would be worthwhile on a Sunday afternoon. The hope of a smattering of local believers who carpooled and caravaned over from Bedford, Manchester, Londonderry, Pembroke, Chester and beyond, that showing up would lift their hearts and make a difference. And even the hope of a teenager I met that the coffee would be worth the trip.
Going forward, I have even more hope. I hope that this screening will lead to others, and that I will get more opportunities to speak locally for P.E.A.C.E. and raise funds for Rwanda 2010.
I also hope that something someone saw yesterday will change them forever. I'm done hoping small; I've seen too much goodness to glorify limiting faith that never makes a move. I'm hoping big.
I just had one of those crazy wild experiences of an event going beautifully, when what I expected was an uphill battle. Why am I surprised? Why do I feel like such an idiot for being this shocked that God does what he says he will do? Every. Single. Time.
Yesterday I hosted a screening of the documentary film, As We Forgive, at a local theater. The planning began October 4, when I summoned the guts to ask some questions which were met with unexpected enthusiasm at the Wilton Town Hall Theatre. What began as a little crazy dream - to offer As We Forgive to a public audience and promote local P.E.A.C.E.- became a reality. The outcome was different than I imagined - which is kind of exactly what I expected :) (read that twice)
A small crowd gathered for the viewing Sunday Nov. 15th in a vintage theater quite a bit off the beaten path. Some friends and some strangers decided to come and see what all this talk of reconciliation in Rwanda is about. Afterward, we shared Rwandan coffee (mmm, so good, thanks to Land of A Thousand Hills Coffee), pictures and stories.
But what we really shared was hope, in many different shapes and sizes. My hope that someone would care that God is moving with sure-footed purpose in a war-torn nation of good hearted people. Hope in Rwanda is the same stuff we run on here in America. A stranger's hope that going to see some random documentary would be worthwhile on a Sunday afternoon. The hope of a smattering of local believers who carpooled and caravaned over from Bedford, Manchester, Londonderry, Pembroke, Chester and beyond, that showing up would lift their hearts and make a difference. And even the hope of a teenager I met that the coffee would be worth the trip.
Going forward, I have even more hope. I hope that this screening will lead to others, and that I will get more opportunities to speak locally for P.E.A.C.E. and raise funds for Rwanda 2010.
I also hope that something someone saw yesterday will change them forever. I'm done hoping small; I've seen too much goodness to glorify limiting faith that never makes a move. I'm hoping big.
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