Jeff Adams

My friends from Argentina arrived this morning. Thomas and Mechthild Vögelin are the founders and leaders of the CEC, the mission-minded youth ministry that I have been blessed to work with on a few occasions. Their eighteen-year-old daughter Manuela is also traveling with them. They will live in our mission house for the next two months as Thomas works to improve his English.

When people travel to another country for the first time, I encourage them to write down their thoughts and impressions because they will never see things in such a fresh and unique light. I was reminded of that today as I spent time with the Vögelin family. What a blast to see the heart of America through their eyes. Everywhere they looked, everything they touched was a source of wonder.

One of their suitcases did not arrive, so we settle down on some stools at Starbucks to wait for the next flight to arrive in hopes the errant bag would arrive (didn’t happen).  Starbucks has not yet conquered Argentina, so to drink a cup of Starbucks coffee is for them something like sipping from a fine bottle of champagne. This is the first time in the United States for Thomas and Manuela. Mechthild made a brief trip over the 4th of July when she was about Manuela’s age. Thomas is Swiss and Mechthild is German even though they have lived in South America for 20 years.

“And I’m Argentine!” smiles Mani (Manuela) proudly.

The young man who took our order has asked what language we are speaking and I am giving him the program of nationalities represented, explaining that we are speaking Spanish with occasional German sprinkled in for accent. He is from Ghana as it turns out.

“Oh yes!” he says, “My mother lives in Germany.

“There’s certainly better coffee,”  I remark as they try to figure out the rainbow of sugar options to stir into their coffee.

“But here we are at Starbuck’s,” they say smiling from their stools backed up to the airport window.

Mani looks at me and the world in general and proclaims, “I’m living my dream.”

Thomas examines the slurpy lid on top of the Starbucks cup. “We need this in our next event in Argentina,” he says. “Just look at this. It’s very practical and it really works well. Look at how it fits.” I am understanding why his ancestors have always made such great watches.

We have a bit more time to kill while waiting for the next flight to come in so I take them a couple of exits down the Interstate just to drive through a “typical” American suburban subdivision.

“OOOOOH! Look at that house. …  Look how much wood they use in construction. … This reminds me of something I saw in a movie. … I saw a house an American built in Chile once that looked like this. Now I know why. … Do you see how much land each house sets on? …  There are no bars on the windows!”

Dropping off their luggage at the mission house, my assistant Emily and I think to take them for a quick lunch because they have not eaten since an airplane breakfast at 4:30am. There is plenty of food in the mission house, but they surely don’t feel like cooking after such a long flight.

“Let’s go somewhere typically American.”

Emily and I weigh our options. By this time most every place will be crowded, and we want to get in and out so they can come back, clean up and take a nap. We reluctantly decide on a nearby Applebee’s. They are thrilled when we tell them it is typically American.

Walking through the door of Applebee’s, their eyes survey every detail just like a Superbowl quarterback reading a defense. They notice the TV screens visible from every possible angle.

“Just wait, Mani, until you feel the thick carpet beneath your feet in one of the houses,” Mechthild says as she reflects on one of the strongest impressions from her trip long ago.

The server has arrived to take our orders. Thomas looks up with his trademark smile, musters up his best English and says, “Tell me. What is the most typical American food on this menu?”

Seeing the server’s facial expression, I jump in to help interpret. We later learn that this is her second day on the job and is in training. We learn this after she has spilled Pepsi on the table that chases Thomas and I from the booth, fails to know how to clean it up, mixes up our orders and brings the plates 10 minutes apart. But this is their first meal in America and nothing, no one, not even a server in training and an exasperated and frustrated trainer can rob them of the wonder of it all.

Father and daughter order cheeseburgers and fries. Mom opts for a salad.

The drinks arrive.

“They’re so big!” they giggle to each other.

Emily smiles and adds that they refill them – for free.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” they squeal in unison.

“Look at how thick and big these straws are!”

Today you won’t convince them that Applbee’s is any different from Ruth’s Chris Steak House. They are fascinated with each detail.

Wouldn’t it be great to go through life with such an attitude of wonder? Surely this has to be much more favorable for one’s health than constantly complaining. Maybe the Fourth of July is a good time to learn a new attitude. We have so much for which to be thankful. Let’s see if we can find wonder in even the smallest details of life. Why not share the joy of something others take for granted? Try it and see what happens.

Somewhere over the rainbow my 767 was lifting me toward Argentina last week. I had just finished preaching twice, was very tired, and wondering how and what I was going to say to this group of youth leaders in Argentina about making disciples. Part of my Bible reading that day was Isaiah 54:1-3, a very famous scripture.

The year was 1792 when men traveled in sailing ships, not 767′s. Most of the men who traveled on those ships were explorers, merchants and sailors in royal navies; very few were followers of Jesus Christ with the intention of taking the good news of Jesus Christ to those who had not heard. A young man in England named William Carey was becoming increasingly burdened about the need to purposefully reach the unreached. He was fascinated by the vast word that lay beyond his Nottingham cobbler’s bench. He had tried to share his vision with fellow pastors but had so far been rejected and ridiculed. In a moment of divinely-inspired passion Carey spoke yet again to his colleagues. This time his text was the same passage in Isaiah 54.

Sing, O barren, thou that didst not bear; break forth into singing, and cry aloud, thou that didst not travail with child: for more are the children of the desolate than the children of the married wife, saith the LORD. Enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the curtains of thine habitations: spare not, lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes; For thou shalt break forth on the right hand and on the left; and thy seed shall inherit the Gentiles, and make the desolate cities to be inhabited. Isaiah 54:1-3

Carey was using this text to inspire his peers to dream big. By reaching the “Gentiles,” they would be expanding their horizons. Israel had spent much time living in tents. God was challenging them to have a vision for a bigger tent. If they would but enlarge their place, stretch the curtains and lengthen the tent cords as they dug the tent stakes in deeper, God would bless them with a bigger tent. In other words, they should dream big and trust God to fulfill their dream. In 1793 Carey set sail for India, never to return.

In Argentina God answered the principle of this verse that I had prayerfully claimed. He gave far more fruit from this trip than I had expected, and I thought I was dreaming big!

A couple of weeks ago, Pastor Jay and I met with a group of students in my office for the purpose of entrusting to them the direction of our next Summit. I remember hearing Jay tell them, “Dream big!”

Tonight we met again. Wow. They did. They did dream big! I was so proud of them, and so proud of God. They clearly are looking for a bigger tent and what we have to do now is trust God to bring it to pass.

What’s your dream? Is it big enough? Do you think you can pull it off? If you do, your dream is too small.