Scrapbook Evangelism

And unto one he gave five talents,
to another two, and to another one;
to every man according to his several ability. . . .

                                                                                — Matthew 25:15

 

You’ve got your early Christian martyrs, who went one-on-one with lions and tigers rather than renounce their faith.

 

You’ve got your missionaries, who tried to stay out of cannibal soup pots, and boldly spread the Gospel where it was never boldly spread before.

 

You’ve got your world-renowned humanitarians like Albert Schweitzer . . . and your tireless healers like Florence Nightingale . . . and the ones who remember the forgotten, like Mother Teresa for India’s poor, and Chuck Colson for those in our own bulging prisons.

 

You’ve got your famous artists and scientists with faith as their inspiration, and musicians like Joseph Mohr and Franz Gruber, whose church organ wasn’t working one snowy Christmas Eve in Austria, so they sat down with a guitar and banged out a new song: “Silent Night.”

 

But what can the rest of us do to show our faith?

 

Do saints serve red Jell-O and casserole at funeral luncheons?

 

Do the retirees who mow the church lawn every week count as Christian soldiers?

 

How about the teenagers who sharpen and replace the pew pencils? The middle-agers who tithe? The guys who fix cars for single mothers? The grannies who hold the babies in the nursery so their parents can worship without a nervous breakdown?

 

Are these mighty works for the Lord, too?

 

You bet your sweet evangelistic bippy they are.

 

The little things – the humble things – the things that never make the news – they inspire and astound me, because of their endless variety. It’s like there’s a worldwide patchwork quilt of love that each of us is helping to stitch in our own, unique way.

 

I was privileged to be part of one person’s unique service recently. It sent a quiet but powerful message about choosing life and sharing God’s love.

 

A reader of mine in Kansas City saw my story about an unwed mother who was set to have an abortion, but a Christian friend pulled her back from the brink, and people came out of the woodwork to help her out. This young woman had the baby in mid-June – Dylan Michael – and is starting on that long, lonesome road of single motherhood.

 

This reader wanted to do something to encourage her, sight unseen.

 

So she made her a baby album. It’s a wonderful, colorful, original, whimsical, amazing scrapbook that’s 1,000 times neater than anything you could buy in a store.

 

I got tingles, just looking at it. The time and effort that went into it! There was a page to record memories of the pregnancy with construction motifs: “Baby Under Construction.” There was space for the tiny handprints and footprints, and a place for the mom’s hospital wristband and the baby’s cradle nametag. The colorful papers had teddy bears, bottles, binkies and duckies, with phrases like “bundle of joy,” “pitter patter,” “mommy’s boy,” “snuggle bug,” and “wiggles and giggles.”

 

Scrapbooking, you see, is her “ministry.” She makes scrapbooks for new babies born in her church, and for seminary students who come and go. She meets weekly with other enthusiasts – the “Scrapping Divas” – and they attend “crops” and conventions . . . in their signature tiaras.

 

Tiaras? Again, you bet your sweet evangelistic bippy. Endless variety, remember?

 

She wrote this to the new mom:

 

“I made this album for Dylan because I wanted to show you how much I support your decision to bring him into the world. I never really understood the love that God has for us, until I had my own kids. Just as we never question meeting the needs of our earthly children, He wants us to rest in the assurance that our Father will take care of our needs.”

 

What a testimony.

 

What a message.

 

Every time that mom sees that scrapbook in the years to come, she’ll be reminded that God is there for her. All around her. Picturing a happy future for her in endless ways. And you can bet your sweet bippy He always will. †


By Susan Darst Williams | www.RadiantBeams.org | Motherhood| © 2020