Going to Dad's House

I recently had a dream.

I was at my Dad's house (but it didn't look a thing like my Dad's house).  Karl and Scott were with me.  There was a knock on the door, and a group of young people stood on the porch.  They said they came to help, as we requested.  So, we let them in.  We were talking and getting to know them. They sat in chairs and talked, talked, talked, all the while looking at their own belongings.  Occasionally, one would hop out of their chair and run to something in the room, squealing and pointing and talking about how that looked like something from their home.  Then, they all started roughhousing and playing games with each other.  One of the girls opened a large door to run in and hide.  It was a cabinet that was full of delicate crystal and other breakables.  The girl just tromped through, breaking things along the way.  She came out, giggling, but also apologizing.  I looked in and saw some of my Mom's antiques and fragile belongings.  I went to begin cleaning it all up, with tears in my eyes, not for the physical loss, but for the loss of something that belonged to my Mom, who died years ago.  The girl was already on the other side of the room, laughing and talking with someone else.  Dad just silently helped clean it up with tears in his eyes.

Then, we offered them something to eat.  They quickly gobbled up all that we had and asked for more.  We had to tell them that this was all that we had, but that we were working on getting more.  We told them of things that they could help us do around the house.  They got started on some jobs, but then asked why Dad had some things like he did, why he didn't have more of this or less of that.  They asked why the house wasn't like houses where they lived.  They quickly lost interest in the jobs they were doing, and only half-completed the work.

Then I woke up.

It was a strange dream, and really made me sad.  Right before going to sleep, I had been working on updating our volunteer orientation manual.

It makes me sad to think that there are sometimes teams that go to areas and do more damage than good.  We've only had that experience a couple of times in eleven years.  But it does happen.  Unless we are servants wherever we go.  Unless we think more about the people, culture, and history of the place than we do about ourselves.  Unless we strive to show genuine love.  Love, which means thinking more about someone else than we do about ourselves.  Love and respect.  Respecting God's house - which is not a church, but all of the people on the earth, their countries, their histories.  And what God is already doing in and among them.