Potato Chip Fingerprints

My guitar is sitting at home right now with a bazillion greasy potato chip fingerprints on it.

And that's okay with me.

Let me tell you how they got there. I was privileged last week to go on a mission outreach visit to a women's shelter. And I'm gonna be honest. I was scared. I have seen domestic violence in the branches of my family tree, but it was never something that affected me at home. I didn't know what to expect. And I can tell you this much - a year ago, I wouldn't have gone on the trip.

Why? A year ago, I would have judged instead of loved, I would have condemned instead of showing compassion. My preconceived notions and stereotypical narrow mindedness would have kept me in my box I built all on my own with tools given to me by narrow minded people.

But the person I am now wants to be the hands and feet of Jesus to the lost, to the hurting, to the forgotten...to carry Him into the lives of everyone I meet.

So I threw away the remaining scraps from my broken box that I have escaped from and joined my group of friends to go on this visit. We took dinner, a craft for the kids, and I took my guitar to play some songs for them. I unpacked the guitar when I got there, then stepped outside to see what was going on. One of the ladies let me know that some of the kids were strumming on it so I went back inside to check on things. There was a little boy, shorter than the guitar that was leaning in the corner, steadily strumming the open strings. I knelt down beside him and that's when I heard him singing:

"The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout...."

I listened intently and applauded when he was done. He looked at me and said, "I know another one".

(Steadily strumming again) "A, B, C, D, E, F, G...."

Again I listened intently and gave him applause.

This got the attention of the other kids and we spent some time talking about the guitar and how to be easy with it while playing it, and I listened to them sing like children do. After they ate their dinner, they came back over again and continued to play. Potato chips were part of the meal, and not everybody washed their hands before touching the guitar again (and I think I fall right into this category), so this is where the bazillion potato chip fingerprints came into play. And I was so caught up in the innocence of these children, it didn't even occur to me to care that their hands might be dirty.

What I saw through the eyes of my heart were women and children of all walks of life who needed help, not a hand out, but a hand up. I watched them interact with each other and saw how they had become family to each other.

And I saw a group of women sing children's worship songs with a joy in their hearts that I would love to see in the hearts of the people in our churches...that I would love to see in my own heart.

We closed with Amazing Grace. One of the verses says:

"Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come;
Tis Grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home"

I have a whole new picture of grace.

I have a bazillion little greasy potato chip fingerprints on my guitar. And it doesn't bother me.

Because I also have a bazillion little greasy potato chip fingerprints on my heart.

Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for your Amazing Grace.

It's just what's on my mind.