In John 4 the disciples return from a food run. They had left their Master hungry and exhausted sitting next to a well but now they return to find Him speaking with a Samaritan woman, which was totally taboo, but they don’t have the nerve to ask Him, “What are you doing Jesus?” and then when she leaves strangely He doesn’t even seem anxious to eat the food they have brought Him. They urge Him to eat and His timeless reply is
John 4:32 “I have a kind of food you know nothing about.”
Jesus had just shared a tender moment with a lost daughter of Eve and her life would never be the same again and the joy of that encounter and of fulfilling His Father’s mission was better than earthly food.
John 4:34 Then Jesus explained: “My nourishment comes from doing the will of God, who sent me, and from finishing his work.”
I think about this passage all the time. When I look at my own life and ministry I can honestly say that the fuel for pressing harder and harder into the harvest comes from the joy of those tender moments where Jesus shows up, touches someone through me, and changes their life. Having a taste of that “kind of food” becomes a holy addiction that I wouldn’t trade for anything in this world. I woke this morning thinking of and praising God for the almost countless “Jacob’s well” experiences that He has blessed me with in just the last few months and for the immense joy and motivation they bring to my life.
I think of the discouraged pastor in his 50’s who hugged me weeping after I preached at a pastor’s conference in Bogota, Colombia and said, “I love you. I came today under a heavy burden and the Holy Spirit has refreshed me through you.” Wow! Praise you Jesus!
I think of the young woman and her baby that I prayed for at the altar after preaching in a church in Medellin, Colombia who when I laid my hands on her and her baby she collapsed to the floor as I caught the baby and she gave her heart to Jesus. I later learned that she had never been in a church service before and had never heard the gospel before. She had gone to borrow some clothes from a neighbor and they had asked her to come with them to church and hear the American preacher… Only God…
I think of the woman that I “randomly” sat next to at a ministry meeting whom I had never met before who weeping promptly began to share with me her whole story of horrible abuse and neglect as she kept saying, “I don’t know why I am telling you all of this.” I knew. Jesus wanted to hear her story and give her living water because that’s what He does…
I think of the 16 year old boy accompanying me on a mission trip who broke down and fell into my arms weeping as he watched the Holy Spirit sweep across a church service in Colombia. That young man will never be the same.
I think of the discouraged pastor in his 30’s who wept out his hunger for God as I laid hands on him and prayed over him as he knelt on the board floor of a little church on stilts in a slum in Belize.
I think of the father of a missionary girl in Colombia who wet the front of my suit with his tears as he hugged me and wouldn’t let me go after a sermon I preached in Bogota, Colombia on missions.
I think of the drunk man with the big black eye who wet the front of my shirt with his tears as I held him and shared Jesus with him on the side of a road in Belize.
I think of the young man who hugged me and wouldn’t let me go at the end of a sermon I preached in one of the most violent prisons in the world in Medellin, Colombia. The tears on his glowing face evidence that he had tasted living water.
I think of the precious 20 year old pastor’s daughter in Sibate’, Colombia who after a miraculous night of ministry when her father asked her to join him in praying over me and my ministry broke down weeping and held onto me as she choked out her prayer between great sobs asking God to continue anointing me so that souls continue to be healed through my ministry as she had seen that night. How do you compare anything this world offers with that?
To His praise and glory alone and by His grace alone I could literally tell of dozens more of these tender moments in the presence of Jesus as He transforms, heals, loves, encourages, and restores lives that I have experienced and enjoyed just in the last few months… no drug, no sin, no bank account, no toy, no vacation, no fame, no fortune, nothing can compete with that. It’s a “kind of food” that the world doesn’t know about and the greatest prayer of my life is “Oh God give me more! Live your life through me! Quench their thirst!” This is what keeps me desperate for God. It’s a holy addiction I can’t live without… and neither could Jesus…
Matt Bullen
Executive Director
Mission Critical International
Mission Critical International is passionately pursuing Jesus on His mission among the nations and mobilizing others to join us in this holy adventure.
If you would like to help us you can mail a check to:
Mission Critical International
11743 Northpointe Blvd #1025
Tomball, TX 77377
or give online below.
Mission Critical staff receive no income from the ministry but rather work and pray down their personal needs and travel expenses so 100% of your gift will go directly to support our missionary work around the world.
My eyes strained to adjust to the dim light; I could hear the laughter of little children, and I thought to myself “how could they find joy here?” I was standing in the most hellish place imaginable. It was a rat infested “hotel”, that smelled of urine and filth. It would be unimaginable for anyone to live in this place but what broke my heart was the knowledge that over forty children lived in these conditions. They slept in a pile of blankets because there was no beds and they ran around naked or with just underwear because they had nothing else.
To say we were taken aback by “Hotel Hell” as my dad called it would be an understatement but as we walked in we were greeted by the joy of the children that live there. I could see four sets of little eyes looking at us from under their filthy blankets lying on the floor and all we had to say was “Hola” and these beautiful children came running to meet us. They jumped into our arms and they wouldn’t let us put them down for the rest of the night.
Even while sharing a devotion about Jesus with the kids and passing out sandwiches and hot chocolate to all the residents, we held as many of the kids in our arms as we could at once. Nic Arnold, one of our team, danced with the little girls until he could barely stand. By the end of the night our arms felt like they were going to fall off but all I could think was how grateful I was that for one night I could be Christ’s arms to those sweet little children. He was able to hold His babies through us and I would not trade that for anything in this world. I also realized you can find God anywhere! Even in unbelievably horrible situations, He is there!
I am reading the story of a missionary to children who has experienced the horrors of war in Africa, and her story so reminded me of the presence of God even in pain. I want to close with a quote from her book “The Color of Grace” that illustrates what we saw in these children.
[quote]“I remember two little girls I spotted in Congo. They were holding hands when our team drove past them. They were covered in dirt and wore tattered dresses, and their feet were bare. Behind them stood a massive volcano that had erupted six years earlier and destroyed 40 percent of their city of Goma. Less than twenty kilometers to their left, warring rebel groups were fighting and people were dying in the crossfire. And what were these little girls doing? They were dancing. They were laughing and singing and radiating joy. Why? Because they had no idea they weren’t supposed to dance. They did not know they were supposed to be sad or unhappy. God was living inside them, amid all the destruction, and He was beaming from the inside out.”[/quote]
I have never been to a prison in my life… let alone a prison known to be one of the most violent prisons in the world (inmates once played soccer there with a severed human head). Here we were just a little group of five Mission Critical International missionaries against this Goliath of 7,000 inmates. To say we were a bit nervous is a gross understatement but we marched in unsure of what we would find but confident that God was already there, waiting for us.
As we walked through I saw dozens and dozens of men… some were sitting, some playing basketball and various games, and some just stood in groups and stared at us. My dad Matt Bullen (Executive Director of Mission Critical) had been invited to preach and minister to the men in their weekly, inner prison church service. I was expecting to see a group of 20-30 men quiet, grave and uninterested in what we had to say. I expected them to solely be attending to get early release and for the service to be rough and spiritually dry. Being completely wrong has never given me more joy.
As we walked up the stairs to the chapel we could hear a great crowd praising God. I could hardly believe my eyes when I walked into a room filled with more than one hundred men worshiping in a way that I cannot even try to explain in words. These men were so full of love for God, it was written all over their faces. Some raised their hands, some were on their knees, and others were even jumping up and down filled with joy. I have never before experienced a worship service like this one. The Holy Spirit was heavy in the room as each man listened intently to Matt Bullen preach about Grace, Salvation and God’s heart for each of us. They clapped, shouted, cried, and praised God.
When the service ended each man came and shook our hands and some hugged us and thanked us earnestly for coming to visit them. Honestly I felt more at home in that little chapel in an infamous Colombian prison than in most Christian Churches I have attended in my life. The love they had for their Savior inspired me and even shamed me a bit. Most of these men came to Christ inside the prison but I have known Jesus for years and yet at times do not crave His presence like they do. I think we thought we were there to minister but in the end it turned out that we were the ones being ministered to.
Later we were informed that what we saw in the chapel was only 10 percent of the Christian community inside the prison that in total there were about 1,000 men that profess faith and participate in the weekly services throughout the prison’s 16 sections. I will never forget when one of the church leaders who himself is an inmate and former police officer told us “I used to be in the police force, but now I am a soldier in God’s army”. God touched all of our hearts that day and we left with smiles on our faces. It reminded me of the story in Luke 7 where the woman comes and washes Jesus’ feet in Simon’s house. As I saw the love of these wonderful sons of God and their joyful hearts I could not get out of my mind what Jesus said in verse 47… “I tell you, her sins–and they are many–have been forgiven, so she has shown me much love. But a person who is forgiven little shows only little love.”
I hope to return soon and see more of what God is doing there, also to visit the women’s prison here and see what Jesus is up to there.
“Who here among us has not been broken? Who here among us is without guilt or pain? So oft abandoned by our transgressions. If such a thing as grace exists then grace was made for lives like this. There are no strangers, there are no outcasts, there are no orphans of God” -Orphans of God by Avalon
In John 4 the disciples return from a food run. They had left their Master hungry and exhausted sitting next to a well but now they return to find Him speaking with a Samaritan woman, which was totally taboo, but they don’t have the nerve to ask Him, “What are you doing Jesus?” and then when she leaves strangely He doesn’t even seem anxious to eat the food they have brought Him. They urge Him to eat and His timeless reply is
I think about this passage all the time. When I look at my own life and ministry I can honestly say that the fuel for pressing harder and harder into the harvest comes from the joy of those tender moments where Jesus shows up, touches someone through me, and changes their life. Having a taste of that “kind of food” becomes a holy addiction that I wouldn’t trade for anything in this world. I woke this morning thinking of and praising God for the almost countless “Jacob’s well” experiences that He has blessed me with in just the last few months and for the immense joy and motivation they bring to my life.
I think of the young woman and her baby that I prayed for at the altar after preaching in a church in Medellin, Colombia who when I laid my hands on her and her baby she collapsed to the floor as I caught the baby and she gave her heart to Jesus. I later learned that she had never been in a church service before and had never heard the gospel before. She had gone to borrow some clothes from a neighbor and they had asked her to come with them to church and hear the American preacher… Only God…
I think of the discouraged pastor in his 30’s who wept out his hunger for God as I laid hands on him and prayed over him as he knelt on the board floor of a little church on stilts in a slum in Belize.
I think of the precious 20 year old pastor’s daughter in Sibate’, Colombia who after a miraculous night of ministry when her father asked her to join him in praying over me and my ministry broke down weeping and held onto me as she choked out her prayer between great sobs asking God to continue anointing me so that souls continue to be healed through my ministry as she had seen that night. How do you compare anything this world offers with that? 
