Most people who know me know that I love rocks. Rick and I collect them wherever we go as special reminders of where we’ve been. When we arrived at the school this afternoon and were assigned our jobs, I was thrilled that my daughter Kat and I were chosen to work together. Our job? Going through piles of rocks, picking out and moving rocks perfectly suited for the foundation of one of the new buildings.
As we worked side by side and my hands grew more tired and my back began to ache and my love for rocks began to wain, I was reminded of the story in Mark Chapter 2 where four men took their friend to be healed by Jesus. When they arrived, the crowd was so large that they couldn’t make it in through the door, so in desperation they climbed onto the roof and removed part of it so they could lower their friend down to Jesus. In those days, the roof would have likely been made of mud and rocks and the men would have probably used their bare hands to dig their way through it. As I consider their efforts, I realize just how brave and faithful they would have been to commit such a stunt.
And so it is with our youth. The brave and faithful part. I am incredibly proud of them. I have had the privilege of watching them love the children here and do work that takes incredible energy, patience, stamina. And without a single complaint. Truly, their focus has been on bringing these precious children to the feet of Jesus. As I reflect on their efforts, I realize just how much I love them and the rocks that we carried together to build the foundations of this great ministry.