Beach Reach '10

How do you explain the helpless somber glances shared between Christians as they watch their peers destroy themselves? How do you explain the power of a worship service before going out to face sin in its finest form? How can you explain the comfort of knowing that you are exactly where you are supposed to be and the awe that comes with watching God work right in front of you? People have asked me a lot since I have been back how my spring break was. But I have found it increasingly difficult to truly explain to them why it was so amazing. I mean, how do explain the awe, the heartache, the wonder, the laughter, the joy, the discouragement, the unity, and the peace that is Beach Reach? God taught me so much. He led me past my selfishness and my refusal to focus on others. He worked in spite of my fatigue and my shortcomings. He showed me that in my weakness, He is so very strong. He showed me that He doesn’t need me, but praise God, He allows me to be a part of His plan!

Right now, my head is flooded with the images of people that I met on this trip. The conversations I had roll through my mind like a slide show. I think about the student in our van, who talked to us for a very long time about how he knew the truth but couldn’t bring himself to give up his lifestyle. I recall the two cops who grew up in a catholic church, but had never heard and were shocked at the truth of the gospel. I think about the guys from England who had been turned off to Christianity because of Christians, but who listened and genuinely sought truth. I think about the hard headed atheist. I think about the well educated agnostics… Then I think about the countless conversations with people who were to drunk to remember their name.

Don’t get me wrong, we had a lot of laughter. I mean, you can’t dance with “Crum Diggity” and not smile. We heard a lot of “songs,” saw people stumble over pick- up lines, experienced the ego boost that comes with slurred compliments, and got to hear one of our teacher’s names chanted by a van full of intoxicated college students. We were the Jesus People, a title that we proudly wore. We wore it in fun, light-hearted conversation. We wore it through serious conversation and debate. We wore it, while supporting a drunk person all the way back to their hotel. We wore it as we loved. That’s what Jesus did, so that’s what the “Jesus People” did their best to do.

The beauty of this trip is in the state you find yourself in when you come back at three in the morning with the smell of smoke and beer on your coat, with your heart broken for people, with your mind running a hundred different directions searching for some way to help, with your prayers naming specific names of hurting strangers, and the calm assurance in spite of it all, because you know that it is not about you.