We are about to wrap up our trip to American Indian Christian Mission, our mission trip for this summer. If you haven’t read my first post about this trip, you can see it here.

It’s been a really great trip. There are 24 people from our church on this trip, mostly teens. And they’ve been stellar on this mission trip.

I’ve watched teens step up do things they’re not comfortable doing.

Each morning, we work around the mission campus, painting, cleaning, fixing fence, clearing brush. Later in the afternoon, we head out to Canyon Day for a tent revival, where we are responsible for the children’s activities. We are doing it VBS style.

Each night, we’ve seen 40-50 Apache kids of all ages come and join us. And our teens have reached out and developed some great relationships.

They’ve also stretched themselves in directions they’ve never imagined. I’ve watched some of our teens teach lessons, lead worship, assist kids with crafts and playing games with them. I’ve seen teens fall in love with Apache kids, knowing that they may never see them again, at least this side of heaven.

I watched one of our teens show Christ’s love in an amazing way. Mason is the kind of kid that makes you wonder sometimes. He’s always at The Journey, our Wednesday night service. He always goes on every trip we take. But he’s also pretty wild.

He bought a couple of new, cool, t-shirts the other day. He’s pretty proud of them. He wears them all the time. But they display skulls and blood. Not exactly the best thing for a mission trip.

Yesterday it rained in Canyon Day. As a result, it got pretty muddy.

As we were playing some games, a young Apache boy, maybe six years old, fell face first into the mud. Mason was the first one to him. He picked him up and used one of his new t-shirts to clean this boys face, hands and arms. The little boy cut his hand in the fall. Mason helped patch that up and brought the boy to his mom.

I am willing to bet that Apache kid will remember that for the rest of his life. I know I will.

I think all of us on this trip have been reminded of one crucial fact: It’s not about me.

It’s not about me. When is the last time we thought that thought? Probably not very frequently, if at all. As Americans, we seem to think that everything is about me.

News flash. It’s not.

There is something bigger, something greater, than me and my piddly desires.

Last night, Mason figured that out. On a mission trip to an Apache reservation a thousand miles from home, Mason found that greater something.

Oh, he new it already. But last night, it became real.

What will it take for you and I to realize the same thing?

Do you struggle with the concept of “It’s not about me”? How do you combat the sneaky deceit that you are all important? Leave your thoughts in the comments section below.