My toothless missionary

Raising my sons is an rewarding, frustrating adventure. Some times you get the good. Other times you get the bad. This past weekend, I got the good.

Pam was relaying a story to me of a conversation she had with Wesley. Sunday morning, Wesley asked about the offering at church.

Wesley: Mommy, how does God get the offering?
Pam: Well, God doesn’t actually come get the money. We use to do the things He wants us to do in the church. Some of it also goes to pay for missionaries.
Wesley: What do missionaries do?
Pam: They go around the world and tell people about Jesus.
Wesley: I’m a missionary.
Pam: You’re right baby. You are a missionary.

Of course, Pam prefaces the story to me with, “Do you want to cry right now?” She knows a bit emotional when it comes to spiritual things, my sons, and especially spiritual things concerning my sons. I managed not to cry, but I loved that the fact that he got it – he is a missionary ever where he goes. His job, as a follower of Jesus, is to tell people about Him.

Later that day, he pulled out his first loose tooth. One of the first statements was, “Now I’m a toothless missionary!” And yes, I did tear up a little when I heard that.

I forget that too often. No matter what I lose, I’m still a missionary.
If I lose my parking place at work, I’m still a missionary.
If I lose my car keys in the morning, I’m still a missionary.
If I lose a pick-up basketball game, I’m still a missionary.
If I lose the promotion at work, I’m still a missionary.
If I lose something or even someone precious to me, I’m still a missionary.

Even if you have lost something, don’t forget what you are and especially don’t forget whose you are.

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About Author

Aaron Earls

Christian. Husband. Daddy. Writer. Online editor for Facts & Trends Magazine. Fan of quick wits, magical wardrobes, brave hobbits, time traveling police boxes & Blue Devils.