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