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What is a mission?
 
Well, when I hit the nifty F12 key on my Mac, and take a gander at my “dictionary widget”, it tells me a couple pretty interesting things.
 
A mission is an important assignment carried out for a specific purpose.
 
And my personal favorite was this…
 
A mission is a strongly felt aim, ambition, or calling.
 
So the million-dollar question is, what is my “important assignment”? What is my “strongly felt ambition”?
 
It may take a few paragraphs to process these ponderings, so here I go…
Let’s go back to the wonderful year of 1997. Yes, I was a young gentleman at the strapping age of thirteen. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, or perhaps the words, “string bean” could have been best used to describe me. It was during this year that I was invited on my first mission trip, and I would be accompanying a group of high school students…yes, HIGH SCHOOL students (when you’re thirteen, high schoolers are pretty much like celebrities)!
 
I was very excited but extremely nervous because I had no clue what one even does on a mission trip. There were no preconceived ideas, no “I hope this happens”, no expectations. All I knew was that I was thirteen, I loved Jesus, and we were going to a place called…
 
Mexico.
 
Lots happened during my two weeks “across the border.”
 
Speaking Spanish…check.
 
Puppet shows for the ninos…check.
 
Rattlesnake on my front porch…check.
 
But there was one moment over the course of that trip that I will never forget…
 
We had spent three days of our excursion, working at an orphanage. And by working, I mean we were playing with, eating with, talking with, hugging, and loving some of the most kind, grateful, and beautiful children I had ever seen. My heart had absolutely fallen in love with these kids. I vividly remember when it was time to say adios. Precious boys and girls, some with tears in their eyes, begging us not to leave them.
 
As we drove away in our fifteen-passenger van, their darling faces kept running through my head. A while later we stopped in a grocery store parking lot, and that is when the “moment” happened. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Any idea of being tough or manly went out the window, and I began to weep. My heart was broken for the people of Mexico. I loved them as if they were my own family. In times like this, words can’t begin to describe what you’re feeling, so it’s best to let the sobs do the talking.
 
These were the tears of a young man who had been changed…
 
 
Forever.
 
 
Much has happened since that night in Mexico…
 
I went through this incredibly awkward phase of life called puberty.
 
After much skepticism, I found that the opposite sex did not have “cooties.”
 
And I was incredibly disappointed when all of my expectations about high school turned out to be false.
 
Sure, I made mistakes, and yes, there were some speed bumps along the way, but all in all, I came through it without too many scratches. And as always, God has taken great care of me.
 
Now, thirteen years later…a slightly less-young gentleman at the age of twenty-five (yes, still strapping), I have had the amazing opportunity to take a few road trips across the United States with my buddies. During our travels, we’ve had our fair share of adventure. Skydiving, rock climbing, whitewater rafting, and alligator wrestling are on the top of the list. But during my adventures, I was surprised to find myself in the middle of a few more of those “moments.” Let me explain…
 
At this point, I have taken a total of five trips to Mexico. Whenever it comes time to say goodbye, I cry my eyes out because I just love the people so much. And in my mind, real “ministry” only took place outside of the United States. My heart was on fire for the “widows and orphans” in third world countries, but to be transparent, I had NO heart for the people of America. I had zero compassion for my neighbors and for my peers.
 
That is, until some more of these “moments” started to occur on these crazy road trips.
 
As we drove around in our van (we named it, Helen), we met some absolutely amazing people. Some who had overcome drug addictions, eating disorders, self-hatred, and others who were dealing with homelessness, alcoholism, and pornography. For the most part, they all “looked” fine. Unlike the orphans in Mexico, they had decent clothing, they were well fed, and they had a warm home…
 
But they were still broken
 
still hurting
 
still wounded
 
still searching.
 
I realized that my paradigm of mission was off. The people that we met on the road, the drug addicts, the homeless, the jocks, the preps, the musicians, the poets…needed help just as desperately as the children I had met in the orphanage.
 
Yes, the needs are all different, but the solution is the same…
 
Love.
 
Not just a superficial love, or a conditional love. Not the love that gives a hand out and walks away. But love that can only come from a relationship with Jesus. Freely I have been given a love that has transformed my life, and freely can I share that love with others.
 
So, what is my “important assignment”?
 
What is my “strongly felt ambition”?
 
What is my mission?
 
Simply put…to love the people around me.
 
No matter where, and no matter who.
 
Do I still love going on missions trips to Mexico…of course! But my ministry does not stop once I get back home. That is where it begins…
 
Everyday when we get out of bed, we have a mission…to share God’s love with everyone we come in contact with. It may look like a smile, a hug, or a conversation, but the “moments” are always out there.
 
 
 
Written by Chris Molitor, host of TheDriveTV

*Woke up about 10:39am

The following is a dream that I had right before I awoke on March 18, 2010. I rarely write down my dreams, but I knew that this was one that needed to be recorded…

I was sitting in a hospital, with a good friend of mine. He was really struggling with physical healing. It was a very difficult situation he was going through. I believe he was having jaw pain, or he had a disease in his throat. My friend was a singer and a musician. The doctors told him to go on vocal rest.

No singing…

Unable to do the thing that he loved the most.

He was very upset about it. He had “tried” everything.

Doctors and medications

Countless prayers at numerous “revival meetings”

He had let all of the men and women of the faith lay their hands on him…

and still…

nothing.

He was so upset. He was at the end of himself.

He looked up at me and asked with all sincerity, “What is your perspective on this? How do you still believe in God when things like this happen?”

But before I could respond, he asked one more time…this time with a deeper level of angst in his voice.

“…What is your perspective?”

Just as he asked me that final question, a man, probably in his late thirties, came through the double doors just next to us. He had a very hard time walking. It was so labored that he had to use a cane. You could tell he was in a lot of pain and that his body ached.

He wasn’t suffering from a recent injury, but from a disease or condition that he had lived with all of his life. His body was contorted. His back was twisted. His legs were bowed at a sorrowful angle.

He was the kind of person that you would look at with pity and think, “How sad.”

And yet…

His face was glowing. It was almost angelic-looking. He had a well-groomed beard that surrounded a huge bright smile, and this man possessed two of the most stunning blue eyes you have ever seen.

His face was glowing.

And as he walked,

He was softly singing…

“My soul sings…my soul sings…my soul sings…How I love you!”

In truth, this man didn’t have an amazing voice, but you could not have heard anything more beautiful.

It was as if his words were carried straight up to heaven…

Or maybe Jesus came down by his side, simply to hear him sing.

The moment I heard the words he was singing, tears began to run down my cheeks. As the chorus continued, my tears turned to sobs.

Once this man had passed, I slowly turned and looked into my friend’s eyes.

I said, “That is my perspective…that is how I can still believe in God.”

At this point, we were both weeping.

Two men with their arms around one another’s shoulders…

Unsure of the future, but knowing that whatever the man with blue eyes had…

we wanted it to.

 Check out the NEW website and meet one of the guys on Season 2 of TheDRIVEtv…David Whitlow! 

What is the one thing that every person has the moment they are born? The one thing that no one but the person themselves could stop, hinder, or change?

A voice.

I’m not simply talking about air moving across vocal chords, therefore producing sound, but I’m referring to a desire, a longing, and need to communicate their deepest passions to the world.

Why is it that babies feel the freedom to express themselves whenever they so desire?

They don’t think, “What will my friends think of me if I speak my mind?”

They never wonder, “Why does it matter? No one cares what I have to say.”

Why is it that when we grow older, we lose our confidence in expressing ourselves unashamedly? We begin to care less about what we stand for and more about what is trendy and cool. We are afraid of what may happen if we were honest…

with our parents,

     our friends,

          our God,

               and mostly…

                    …ourselves.

The worst part is not that we’ve stopped the conversation, but that we’ve filled it with…well, for lack of a better word…

junk.

We have dumbed down our power of communication so that it carries no weight. The only time we speak out is to comment on our favorite TV show, talk about an up and coming band, or, when our true colors show, we use our words to stab a friend in the back.

All of these exchanges take us out of the “hot seat”, so that we won’t have to share what is really going on…

in the deepest,

darkest nooks of our heart.

Everyday we all get a chance to speak with purpose and passion, confidence and openness, honesty and love.

We all get two quotation marks…one when we wake up and the other when we go to sleep. It’s the area in between that we are given, on a daily basis, to use to the best of our ability.

How will you share what’s inside of you?

How will you communicate your heart?

How will you…fill the space?

As I think back on my four years of high school, I have many regrets. Things that I wish I could do differently, actions that I would change if I had a DeLorean and a mad scientist for a best friend (if you haven’t seen Back to the Future, you’re missing out).

But my greatest regrets are not the things that I did,

but rather the things that I did not do,

the love that I did not show,

and the words I did not say.

I can remember times when my “friends” would pick on someone. And I should have helped…I should have stood up for what was right…but I didn’t. I figured that I am not the one hurting them, so that makes me not as bad. But by NOT saying anything, by NOT doing anything, I was just as guilty as they were.

We obviously can’t go back and change our past, but we can refuse to be silent any longer. Everyday we see people who are hurting and wrongs that must be righted. We all have daily opportunities to stand up for what we know to be true. Our motives always have to come from a heart that is in love with Jesus, and through His love we can reach out to the broken-hearted. This is not an “us versus them” mentality. The bully needs to be loved, just as much as the one being bullied. We simply need to begin speaking out with the voice that we have, and loving people with the love that we’ve been given.

Everyday we take the stage.

The microphone is on, and the audience is waiting…

-Written by Chris Molitor, host of TheDRIVEtv