In the economy of mercy...

There’s just two ways to lose yourself in this life, and neither way is safe
In my dreams I see visions of the future, but today we have today
And where will I find You? Where will I find You?

In the economy of mercy, I am a poor and begging man
In the currency of grace is where my song begins
In the colors of Your goodness, in the scars that mark Your skin
In the currency of grace is where my song begins

These carbon shells, these fragile dusty frames house canvases of souls
We are bruised and broken masterpieces, but we did not paint ourselves
And where will I find You?

Where was I when the world was made?
Where was I?

I'm lost without You here
Yes, I'm lost without You near
I'm lost without You here
You knew my name when the world was made

This Switchfoot song fits really well with one of the many many stories from this past week in Saltillo, Mexico. It starts on Thursday of last week. It was our "free day" and so we went to the mercado in the center of town. As we were walking around there most of us noticed this guy holding out a cup, leaning on his little stick, begging. He looked really bad health-wise and he didn't really look like he could see very well. To tell you the truth, I didn't really think much of it, but there were others in our group that wanted to help him. Diane, Stacy and Faith bought him a Coca-Cola and pretty much shared the gospel with him, which is awesome. While they were talking with him another guycamee over andtriedd to distract them and kept saying all this mean stuff, but he eventually went away again. I never really heard exactly how he responded, but I'm pretty sure he didn't accept it. Later on in the day, actually pretty soon before we were supposed to leave, Chris saw him and really wanted to help him. So he bought him this really nice new cane. Hand-carved, hand-painted, the whole schabang. He went over to the guy with one of the missionaries there, Wendall, and through translation he offered him the cane that he had bought. He stood there and talked to them for a while, and they found out that his name was Carlos, he had probably done drugs in the past, and that had affected his vision and his speech. Eventually he rejected the cane and decided to keep his old duct taped stick. Wendall and Chris went and bought him a loaf of bread and water, which he accepted. Chris was sad that the guy didn't accept his cane, but he realized that he could use the cane as a memento of that day and that special conversation with the man.

On Friday night we were all sharing our stories with each other, and after Chris, Stacy, Diane and Faith shared their stories about Carlos my mom got up and shared a little insight with us. She realized that we can exactly relate to Carlos. If we put ourselves in Carlos' place, how many times does God try to give us a beautifully made cane instead of our old duct-taped stick. But we're content with our old faithful stick, no matter how beat up, worn out or pathetic looking it is, we won't accept God's free gift. But he keeps trying. Over and over again. He loves us and feels compassion for us, so he keeps offering us this free beautiful gift. We don't usually think of ourselves in the place of the dirty, blind beggar, but that is so us a lot of the time. In the economy of mercy we are poor and begging people.