I thought my wife and I were going to sell some books.  It was a simple mistake, really.  We were just two authors with good intentions; we planned on getting our name out, signing a few copies, and making enough money to buy an ice cream at the end of the day.  After all, we had signed up for the four-day Westmoreland Arts & Heritage Festival months ago.  We stocked our supply of books in advance.  We planned for the event.  We even packed our meals, ready for the day.  The cooler was waiting.  Everything was set.  We said a prayer and off we went.

Yeah.  We thought we were going to sell some books.

I should have known.  It wasn’t that easy.  In hindsight, the struggle of getting to the festival each of the four days should have been a giant indicator hanging from the sky—like a neon sign speaking of the event’s significance.  I should have seen it coming sooner.  Sometimes the most remarkable occasions are preceded by the most difficult struggles.  So often I’ve seen this to be true.  There was nothing easy about getting to the festival.  Yes, we were packed and ready.  But the price was high.  Stress, tension, and chaos all tried to steal the joy from the moment.  It was like a war was going on all around us, and everything ugly and unholy was bent on preventing something good from happening.  Something unseen.  Something unknown.  Something necessary for change in people’s lives.

Spiritual warfare at its best.

Nevertheless, it took about an hour sitting in our booths to realize what was really occurring.  God had other plans.  Yes, we had some books to sell.  Yes, we wanted some change in our pockets at the end of the day.  But little did we know, God had big plans for us during our four-day stay at the Heritage Festival, and that is what really mattered. 

Perhaps God had an invisible spotlight on our table.  We couldn’t see it, but other people must have.  We would watch people walk up to us like they were on train rails with no options but ours.  They came straightaway—not distracted or bumped off course from either side.  It was remarkable; total strangers would come up to our table and tell us their story.  And we were able to share ours—a story of hope—one that gave encouragement, inspiration, enlightenment, and peace to the hearers.  Our transparency with others ministered in huge ways.  Those that came to us found out that we were real people: we have baggage just like everybody else.  The engagement was amazing.  We found ourselves connecting with people on common ground.  Brain injuries.  The loss of loved ones.  The pain of disability.  Life scars.  People searching for purpose.  Souls looking for hope.

And we were able to point them to just that: hope.

We pointed them to Jesus.

The outcome of what happened at the Heritage Festival this year was huge.  I was shocked at how God was using us.  We pulled into our driveway one night when the event was over.  I told my wife that “we will never know the impact of what actually occurred until we get to heaven.  It’s like watching a ripple effect.”

And it is, isn’t it?  Just like a pebble tossed into the lake the festival was hosted at, the impact of what we do for Jesus will continue to spread on and on in ways we cannot comprehend.  It’s beautiful. 

And here, for months, we thought we were going to sell some books.

It was a simple mistake, really.  We were just two authors with good intentions.  Yet sitting there at our booth that day I picked up my head with a smile and said: “Would you like that copy of Wonders In The Deep signed?” 

Don’t we all have preconceived notions?

The funny thing about the Heritage Festival was that God changed me.  Yes, me.  After four days of what I thought was going to be selling books but rather doing ministry, I feel like I saw God’s heart.  He changed me by causing my heart to bleed again. He changed my eyesight.  In a humbling way, God showed me that the hurting, the scarred, the wounded, the disabled, the beaten up, the betrayed, the damaged, and those grasping for hope and purpose—those are the exact people Jesus came to meet, minister to, hang out with, heal, satisfy, and eventually die for.

And my heart changed.  I no longer was in it just to sell books.

By day two, I was catching on to what God was doing.  By day three, I couldn’t wait for the next chance.  It was like holding my breath.  Waiting.  Watching.  We had met so many amazing people and showed them a glimpse of Jesus.  I couldn’t wait for the next opportunity to do it again.  My wife and I prayed together before heading to the event each morning.  I could sense that there were special people that we were supposed to meet—and without disappointment, we did.  God set up divine appointments for us that blew me away.

What a shame if we had only sold books.

So often, we don’t have this mindset.  Yes, we try to connect with others.  But in our quest to engage with a culture, we meet and connect with the already saved, the altogether, the wealthy, the righteous, the well-to-do, and the healthy in mind and body.  And what does that do for us?  Is it reaching a culture and society that is lost and hurting? 

Jesus went to where nobody would go, reached out, and touched the leper: an act unfathomable to those in the religious sects of the day.  He healed the disabled on the Sabbath: a work judged as unthinkable by the Pharisees.  He ate with tax collectors.  He hung out with those who were once demon possessed.  He didn’t throw the stone at the woman caught in adultery; instead, he forgave and delivered her, giving her hope and a new life moving forward.

Luke 19:10 says it clearly, when Jesus was happy to eat at someone’s house who needed a heart transformation as well: “For the Son of Man [Jesus] came to seek and to save the lost.”

My challenge to you today is simple.  We all are busy.  We all get caught in the routine of life, the ebb and flow of it. But if we open our eyes and see what is important, we realize that Christ’s heart beat and bled for people.  Real people.  People that we cross paths with every day.  People that we are in contact with.  People that talk to us.  People who are hurting.  People who need hope.  People that come up to our booth to buy books.

Please, don’t just be in it to sell a book. There’s more to life than that.

I want you to get a taste of what my wife and I experienced this past week.  It’s just like the ripple effect of doing something for Jesus.  Even if we only do one small thing, and step back, we can watch it spread out over the world like the rings a pebble makes in water.  It’s beautiful.  It’s amazing.  You will be amazed yourself.  And you will never know the impact one small thing can do until you get to heaven.

I challenge you, no matter what your occupation, what your talent is, what your “thing” or gift in life is, or what your interest or hobby is, do it in a way which reaches people.  Instead of merely selling a book, meet someone where they are and make a difference in their life.  Invest a piece of yourself in them.  Do something that counts.

It’s far better than any book sale.

Then watch the water as the ripples expand.

It’s beautiful.

You won’t regret it.

By Chuck Carr