When I was in fourth grade we were given a writing assignment. We were asked to write about a typical day the shoes of our father has. So off I went writing. (Actual writing pictured to the left.) I think I got a C+. There was one day I came home from school and found my father’s work boot in the garage covered with blood. Due to one of the hazards of working with glass I later found out a piece had broken and it cut the main artery in his leg. He stayed home while it healed, but I never thought about growing up and doing what my father did for a living.
In biblical days a young man would fill his father’s shoes and eventually carry on the family business. Even Jesus when he was young learned to be a carpenter, but when he got older he begin to do the work of God, his real father.
Luke 2:49 And he said unto them, Why were you looking for me? Don’t you know that I must be about my Father’s business?
Now I am older. I too want to be doing my heavenly Father’s business. I want to be like his son Jesus, doing what God wants me to do to advance his kingdom. Oh, and there was one day when Jesus’ work shoes were bloody too. One of the hazards of being a savior, the Messiah, and dying to cover the sins of others.
When I got married I thought I had found the perfect woman. She hated to mop and I hated to dust, so I would do all of the mopping and she did the dusting. Most of us think of dust as a nuisance. Something that none of us want to collect, yet we all do.
Jer 1:4 This is what GOD said:
Touching a life is one of the most special things we, as humans, can ever do. In the first book I wrote, “Authentic Ministry” (now in the process of being re-written because I tried to write it like my favorite author Max Lucado, and God whispered to me one day, “I already have a Max Lucado, write in your voice.”), so it is not out yet, but I wrote a whole chapter about touching lives, one of my favorite subjects.
I’m writing this week’s blog from the hospital. It’s okay, because I’m not the one admitted, although some would argue that I should be, or is that, “committed”? Anyway, I am a proud grandpa of my first grandchild. Eleanor (Ellie) was born Thursday evening, but her birth was a journey in itself.
I was part of a group of people once that was setting out to accomplish a certain task. We had several meetings before we left so we could get to know each other and to have a clear understanding of what our goal was and what it was not. Everything went great, with no hints of a future issue until we got to our destination. We no more hit the ground when one individual became someone they didn’t reveal beforehand. The next thing we started realizing is this one individual had their own agenda and goals. Worse yet, as they went about to achieve their goals they hurt others on the team by being rude, condescending, and hurtful. I wanted to ask them, “Just who do you think you are?”
I just spent a week in Ndola, Zambia. If one just drives through some of the poorer communities, as we did, you are filled with guilt, compassion, and sorrow. We in America think we know how fortunate we are, but until you see firsthand how others on the same planet live you really don’t know the depth of our fortune.
By the end of our week some tears were shed as we c
elebrated God together and said our goodbyes. A lot had been accomplished as we visited each church of the seven in Fubuku. As we led a bible study in spiritual gifts, as we “tried” to stucco a mill house, and as we moved most of the 3000 concrete blocks into positions so those who did know what they were doing could put them in place. As we did some home visits to those who were HIV positive, or the widow who was raising 10 orphans on her own. This group of God believing, God fearing Zambians find ways to survive, not just
We feel our goal of building relationships was accomplished. We even gave them a 
picture of a person from my church section with their name, so they could pray for them. Then likewise we took their pictures holding up the photo of the one they selected. The response to this was overwhelming. They stood in a line, some for 30 minutes waiting for their turn to be photographed.
brady, mark a. 