The Choice

Today in December as I drove Zane and Alora to Portland, the weather had shifted from a 3-day streak of rain to warmer yet still overcast weather. Last night was only a little colder when we had gone out for evangelism.

As I parked in front of the school, I walked around the car and opened the door for Zane. On the ground, a small feather caught my eye. God has tended to speak to me through feathers and birds, and I took this as an indication that God may desire me to interact with someone evangelistically soon. I prayed for courage. Putting my hands in my coat pocket, I realized that I was wearing the same coat from the night before, feeling the left over paper gospel tracts. One of them, The Choice, was about the reality that apart from choosing Christ, we are all hopelessly condemned to eternal separation from God. An unmistakably clear message that God seemed to be providing me to share at a school in inner-city Portland that proudly celebrates diversity, equity and inclusion, and seemingly made its views on lifestyle and identity also just as explicit by surrounding the school with ‘love is love’ pride flags stuck into the landscaping beds. We are in a spiritual battle, and sometimes it can feel especially apparent. Daily I ask the Lord for protection and for His light to shine in and through our children.

After dropping Alora inside (who was in a non-compliant mood initially until the timely provision of hearing from Jenna, the welcoming staff that Rusty Orange, the therapy dog, was in school today), Zane and I walked up the hill to his classroom, where he was greeted by a hispanic woman who often is posted at the door to receive children and give them a squirt of hand sanitizer before entering. I gave Zane a hug, and proceeded to walk around the building to the side door for our usual ‘peanut game’ ritual where I try to beat him to touching the ‘no peanuts allowed’ posting as a last playful point of contact to help transition him to his classroom. Today, and lately, he was already in the class, only looking back briefly and waving. As I walked down the walkway, I paused and looked for clarity—I felt like I should give the tract to the hispanic lady, who we see regularly, and know could become awkward. But I received the wind blowing the fallen leaves back up the hill toward the door as God’s direction, and walked back up to her.

“Did you forget something?” She asked.

“No, but I felt like I should give you something.” She smiled as if she was delighted to have been considered, to which I clarified that the something I was giving her was not a gift like a Christmas gift from me, like some may bring as an expression of appreciation. “But I feel like it’s something that God wanted me to give you. Are you someone who thinks about God or religion?”

She smiled, looking to her surroundings slightly. “We’re not supposed to talk about religion or politics at our school, but,” still smiling, “…yes, I am.”

It made sense, with her smiling and welcoming demeanor.

“That’s wonderful. I am too--although, not just religious, but a relationship with Jesus.” She, too, shared this relationship.

She asked what it was that I was giving her. At first I felt awkward that the tract I was looking to give this sweet woman who already has a relationship with Him had harsh and vividly-drawn pictures representing Satan, sin and hell that the character is confronted with, as well as Christ’s offer of salvation. I brought it out.

“It is a tract, a story about the choice between accepting Jesus or not accepting Jesus. Although, it sounds like you already have a relationship with God…”

“This could be for someone in my family,” she added. “Thank you so much. I do not believe that this happened by accident.” She seemed genuinely encouraged by the interaction.

“I don’t either!”

A few parents were dropping off their children, and she welcomed them, allowing a parent to take the bottle of hand sanitizer to squirt himself into his kids hand as a way to aid the transition.

After they left, I shared, “I am grateful that God has you here for our children to greet them, someone who loves and is filled with His love for kids to feel safe when it can be hard.” I thanked her for her care, and bid her a wonderful day, departed, and walked down the hill, feeling grateful to God.

A younger school worker in a traffic vest and I connected briefly over the weather before I reached the bottom of the hill and our car. As I hopped in and drove off, I reflected on how Elijah, scared, shame-filled and burned out, ran away from his opposition, to which later God revealed to him that 5,000 had not bowed the knee to Baal. Our perception of our environment—and our ability to perceive God’s presence with us in it—has great influence on our peace. I am grateful that God has people everywhere, likely even in places that are unreached with the gospel, and yet they are still ‘his people’ who He knows will make a choice for Him.

Pray with me that His light would shine in dark places, and for continued boldness for Christians who walk with God in places where the darkness isn't dark to Him.