Long time, no blog...sometimes it seems like life gets in the way of what I love and feel most alive doing.

For two years now, I've been working in a giant building with the layout of a high school and the color of weak chocolate milk...every day when I walk through the South entrance I see, etched into the wall of the building in lower-case Zurich, "small things done with great love will change the world." And I think I have always believed that...I think I believed it in the same way that I believe that God lives inside of us and that water is composed of hydrogen and oxygen. I've never seen God in me...I've seen his dark counterpart, I think, but I have a hard time remembering when anything I've done has reflected the presence of The Author in me...I've never noticed the oxygen in my water sneaking out from behind its hydrogen curtain...but for some reason I think I believe both of these things. Likewise, it always made sense to me that, if we do enough small acts of kindness and TRULY do it out of love for humanity, we will eventually change the world. But I don't know that, since I've been here, I've experienced and internalized it well enough to REALLY know what it means.

...until this week...

This week, an entire small group from the Norwood area (and more than a few other Norwoodians I'm acquainted with) showed up at our new house, paintbrushes and rollers in hand, and spent the entire evening painting our little piece of the 'wood. We offered no money, our pizza selection was weak, and I'm not that good at expressing gratitude...but it didn't matter. They showed up because they wanted to love on us. We had two guys there who had never met us in their entire lives, but simply wanted to welcome a newcomer to Norwood. They worked their butts off...Mark painted the entire living room with a faux finish all by himself; Brooke, Angela and Sean got down on all fours and pulled at old rusty nails and staples in our floor until every one was gone (Brooke even sustained a puncture wound in the process), Matt and Angela sat in our hot upstairs and painted that same weak chocolate milk color on our hallway plaster, Aaron and Brooke cashmered the entire foyer, Dana taught us to paint, Donna and Leslie put a strong coat of Spanish Tile (Porter term for red) on our walls, Sean slaved on every nook in the kitchen...I'm sure I'm leaving more out...I'm overwhelmed as I think about it. This was no small thing...this was six hours spent in the hot confines of an old Norwood row house with oil paint and splintery dusty floors...but it was done with great love. No complaints...no bailing out...just hard work, done without boasting or apology. These people were SERVING selflessly, loving me and Stacy in a way that I'm not sure I understand, but I know I feel. It felt like God for a second...like Love incarnate, working itself out in front of me.

I didn't sleep well that night. It was an insomnia of gratitude and, more than that, total bewilderment. What do you do when you receive that kind of service, and you have done absolutely nothing to earn it? How do you process that? Our world is one based on the basic premise of cause and effect...even things we can't explain are chalked up to some sort of causual relationship that we simply haven't figured out yet...hence, the theory of evolution, the theory of the big bang, the theory of relativity. So, how do you accept it when you receive a gift that you can be certain you have done absolutely nothing to earn? It doesn't fit what I know, it doesn't fit what the world seems to operate on: it doesn't fit causality.

I don't understand it, but this week I've been trying to learn what a difference true selfless kindness makes. Small things done with great love really will change the world...I think I truly see that for the first time. The amazing thing about this whole concept of serving other people to introduce them to the Lavish Almighty is that the connection between experiencing the bewilderment of being served in a small way without earning it and being served in an eternal way without earning it is natural...almost innate. The story of Jesus makes more sense to me today than it did a week ago...the story of God's insanely persistent love for us makes more sense to me...because of paint, rollers, and the incredibly selfless six hours given me by a small group from Norwood.

This is a sleeplessness I will gladly endure.

Peace,
Justin