My daughter and I share a dream. (Technically, it’s a family dream, but this daughter talks about it the most, prays with me the most about it.)
We call it: The Breakfast House.
What is the Breakfast House? The BH is a place where missionaries who have no home, or for whatever reason can’t go home, can crash when things go wrong in their country and they have to leave immediately. Need counseling? Go to the Breakfast House. Need clothes? Need shelter? Need somebody to cry with? Need to be a kid again, or maybe play with your kids again since you’ve been stressed out for so long they can’t remember when you last laughed? Come to the Breakfast House. Just like Jesus showed up for Peter in John 21 and gave him breakfast on the beach, Jesus can minister to you here too.
(I know, Jesus can minister to people anywhere. But sometimes it’s nice to have a special meeting place.)
Last week, during class, the teacher asks the kids to think some great thoughts and share them. And right there, in that public school classroom, my daughter raises her hand and starts talking about this idea called The Breakfast House.
And the kids laugh at her.
But the teacher doesn’t. The teacher encourages her, telling her it sounds like a great idea.
The teacher then gives the class the assignment to draw something important to them. My daughter loves to draw. She starts drawing heaven, but doesn’t finish. So she folds the paper up, puts it in her bag and brings it home.
On the way home, she tells her older sister that she mentioned the Breakfast House in class and that everybody laughed at her. Her older sister starts yelling at her about keeping the Breakfast House a secret. I calm that situation down. We get home and I hug my girl and tell her it’s okay. She doesn’t have to keep it a secret. Don’t worry.
The next day she takes her drawing of heaven to school, volunteers, stands up and shows her class her drawing.
The kids laugh at her.
Same story. Older sister, “What’d you expect? If they don’t know Jesus, they’re gonna laugh.”
After everyone else has gone inside, I give her a hug in the car. “You know what? I’m proud of you.”
“Because you’re letting what’s in your heart come out of your mouth. Even if people don’t understand and hurt your feelings. You’re still doing that. And that matters because that means your heart is talking. You love Jesus. And you talk about the Breakfast House because you love Him and you love missionaries. And you dream about heaven, and picture what it’s going to look like because you love Jesus. You’re saying to your classmates, ‘I love Jesus.’ …And you know what?”
“There’s a verse where Jesus says, ‘If you confess me before men, I will confess you before My Father in heaven.’ Do you know what that means? I like to imagine that’s like when someone royal steps into a room and it’s somebody else’s job to announce that person. ‘This is so-and-so.'”
Her eyes get big.
“I’m excited for you! You’re starting to confess Jesus now! Do you know what I think He’s going to do? I think you’re going to get to heaven and Jesus Himself is going to say, ‘Hey Everybody, listen up! This here is…’ and then He’s going to say your name — your name!”
“That would take a long time if He does that for everyone,” she thinks.
“I know, right? But we’ll have forever. Jesus is going to announce everybody who stands for Him! Imagine it! Before angels, before God the Father, Jesus is going to proclaim you! He is proud of you–right now!”
And so am I, Sweetheart. Don’t ever quit confessing Jesus!