My Citizenship

If I am honest, the truth is I was becoming a bit disenchanted or even cynical.  I could talk the talk.  I knew the right things to say.  I knew how to act and respond.  I loved Jesus, and I desperately longed to live a life that glorified Him, but I was frustrated.  I was so busy DOING that I had no time for just BEING.  Church was just another place I had a job to do.  Bible study was just another thing I had to lead.  Retreats were just another thing I had to prepare. 

While this wasn’t true for my ministry, it was true for my personal relationship with Christ.  Thankfully I think what kept me afloat was I believed so fully in what God had called us to do here in Guatemala.  I loved (and still love of course) these kids so much that for them I wanted better and more.  I desperately longed for them to taste and see that despite all the horror they may have seen or experienced God was and is still good.  He was and is for them.  He loves them with a lavish and unconditional love.  So I kept moving and pushing forward.  I believed that God would continue to sustain me as long as I continued to be obedient. 

But then I would have these flashbacks to seasons past when I was consumed with God’s word and when prayer was such an active and constant part of my daily life.  I missed filling journals with prayers and promises from the Bible.  I missed the intimacy that I felt walking so closely with Christ.

And to be totally frank, part of my frustration was caused by what I believed I was seeing in many Christians and in many churches which was an utter betrayal to what Christ had commanded us to do.    Now before I get thrown to the wolves, hear me out.  I am not saying this WAS happening…I am only saying this was my perception.  I saw Christians more concerned for their own welfare, their own comfort, their own advancement, their own success, and just their own general well-being than that of their neighbor.  I heard more often things like, “Well we can’t save them all!” or “I have to do what is best for my own family and can’t worry about them.” or even worse “They brought it upon themselves.  If they just would have made a better decision, they wouldn’t be in this situation.”

I get it.  Sometimes I feel like I am barely keeping my head above water with my own crew.  How am I supposed to find room to care about someone else’s?  There is even some truth to these statements…we can’t save them all and we do have take care of our family (of course we do), and sometimes people do make poor decisions that have grave consequences.   But what I was struggling with was that everyone wants to lament about the state of affairs these days but rarely is anyone ever ready to get into the trenches and do something about it. 

Where is the church?  I just kept asking myself over and over again…church where are you?  I am only looking at this need here in Guatemala, but I know it is everywhere, and I am not seeing the church rise up and do something about it.  Luke 10:2 says, “And he said to them, ‘The harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few.  Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” 

I read verses like this one and thought, “But the workers shouldn’t be few.  The churches are filled with workers!  Why aren’t they going into the harvest?  Why are they so comfortable when there is so much suffering?  Why aren’t they willing to do anything?!”

I was fast tracking it straight from disillusioned to flat out angry and broken.  I recognized the symptoms and decided the first step was to take some time away from social media.  It was only making things worse for me, and I realized that I couldn’t judge everything just from Facebook.  I needed to take some to hear from the Lord on what MY responsibility was.  I needed to be refreshed. I was tired. I was worn down.  I felt like the burden was too heavy and there was no one to help us carry it.   

And then the unexpected happened.   My little social media fast was fine, and I learned a few lessons (namely just delete the folks and pages that only bring discouragement.  No reason to fill our lives with background noise that distract from the important stuff), but in the end, it wasn’t the enlightenment I had hoped it would be. 

Something else ended up doing that instead.  My daddy got sick.  Really sick.  It started as a small, rather routine thing and the next thing I know he is being rushed to emergency surgery because he has gone septic and all his vitals are dropping.  I was still in Guatemala as this was all happening.  My mom and sister were keeping me updated but because everything happened so fast, I didn’t even have a chance to get on an airplane to try and be there with him.  It went from not that serious to life threatening in the span of just a few hours.  All I could think about was how a few years ago, my beloved grandpa went into the hospital for a nosebleed and a few days later died, and I never got to say goodbye. 

I was so scared but more than scared I was angry.  I was angry with God.  I had all the words with Him.  I shouted things like, “I never wanted to be a missionary anyway!  I only did it because YOU asked me to!  Why can’t I just live with my family like everyone else in the world gets to?! Why do I have to make this sacrifice?  This isn’t fair! I don’t want this!”  I even had a moment that I was planning my speech for my husband about how I was packing up and moving back home because I had already done my part, sacrificed my portion, and it was time for me to do what I wanted.  

I was in a bad place.  That’s the truth.

But what frightened me the most, as I started to come out of the fog of the fear and the anger and the confusion and the sadness was that I also wasn’t willing to sacrifice what I loved most for Jesus.  When the time actually came, when the hour struck midnight, I wasn’t ready to trade in my carriage and pretty dress for the rags.  I wasn’t willing to pay the price.  I didn’t care that Jesus said, “and everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands, for my name’s sake, will receive a hundredfold and will inherit eternal life.”  (Matthew 19:29)  I didn’t care that I had often prayed to God in my youth, “Send me Lord!  Use me Lord!  Yes Lord whatever You say, YES!”  None of that mattered anymore.  It didn’t even matter that I actually did love what we were doing and that these kids were such a part of my life that leaving them behind would have been a near impossibility. 

The only thing I could see was that my beloved daddy was sick, he could have died, and I wasn’t there.  

My favorite chapter in the Bible is Romans 8.  It has been for so many years that I have almost every verse underlined or highlighted.   When I am feeling the most vulnerable or scared or confused, I always go back there and read those words that I have etched on my heart over and over again until they are like a soothing balm over my wounds.  So this situation was no different than any other.  The only thing that changed was that instead of staying in Romans 8, I kept on reading in Romans 9. 

Paul says in verses 1 through 3, “I am speaking the truth in Christ –I am not lying; my conscience bears me witness in the Holy Spirit – that I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, my kinsmen according to the flesh.”  He goes on to talk more about why, but in that moment, reading those words, I could do nothing more than weep.  Paul was willing to be cut off ETERNALLY for the sake of his brothers, for them to know Christ. 

Now it was no longer an issue of giving up earthly possession or sacrificing time or the ability to live close to those I love most.  It wasn’t about whether I had sacrificed enough and “deserved a break.”  It all came into focus.

It was about eternity and not just my eternity but that of my family and my friends and anyone that God has placed in my circle.   I said, “Yes Lord” all those years ago because I believed that my yes could have eternal consequences.  I believed God could use my little life in a way that would bring Him glory and would show others His beautiful and great worth.  I was willing to be “poured out as a drink offering” because I knew that my relationship with Jesus was so valuable and so wonderful and so indispensable that I wanted every single person to have this relationship too.

God as always was so gentle and loving with me, though, because in the midst of my spiritual crisis and battle with Him about having taken away these years with my family, He gave me the most incredible gift.  In the most unexpected and surprising of ways, He provided the opportunity for me to still be able to go and spend a week with my daddy all by myself.  It was a surprise for my family too.  They had no idea I was coming until I was literally standing right there in the room with them.  It was sweet and wonderful and unexpected and beautiful, and it filled my heart with so much joy.  God saw my pain and He provided. 

It won’t always be that way, though.  Sometimes I am just going to have to walk through the pain and there won’t be a sweet little surprise at the end of it.  Sometimes I will just have to cling to Him and help Him lead me through the darkness.  There is a very real possibility that I could lose someone again while I am here and not be able to get back in time.  I will face more loss. I will face more pain.  There will be more goodbyes. And it is going to hurt.

But as I read Paul’s words, I am reminded over and over again that it is a cost I am willing to pay.  I may not always like it and it may hurt, but the eternity of those I love most matters so much more than whether or not I am comfortable or even safe or even happy.  Yes, I said that too.  Being happy isn’t everything friends.  We are a culture obsessed with happily ever after’s, and we will trade jobs or degrees or even spouses until we find it.  But it isn’t everything. 

Church, Christians, friends, we need to wake up.  The harvest is plentiful and the workers are few.  All the things you are doing, all the money you are making, all the vacations you are taking, all the fun you are having, all the trophies you are winning, and even all the memories you are making with your family…all of it will someday be gone.  You can’t take any of it with you to eternity.  It is all good. I am not against any of those things. Money isn’t the enemy and we all need it to live.  Vacations are some of my most favorite things in this world.  I am a big fan of fun, and I love winning trophies because I am more competitive than I would like to admit.  And the memories…oh those memories are so good and so sweet and are leaving seeds and planting a legacy far beyond what we can even imagine.  But even those only last as long as a person is on earth and can remember them. 

We were made for more.  God called us for more.  There is a reason Paul wrote most of the New Testament.  He was fully man but also fully aware that his home was not this earth.  His home was the one God prepared for him.  His home was with Jesus.  And he was not going to give up or stop or give in until God took him home.  He wanted all his brothers near and far to know and to share in this good news. 

Are we willing?  Are we willing to follow Paul’s and ultimately Christ’s example of obedience no matter the cost?  Is Jesus worth that for us?  Or do we claim to belong to him in name only? 

Paul writes in Philippians 3:17 – 21,

“Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us.  For many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things.  But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.”

Our citizenship is in heaven.  It isn’t here.  Love hard.  Work hard.  Play hard.  Grieve hard even.  We can and I believe should feel deeply and passionately.  Our relationships should be deep.  But we just can’t forget that this, here on earth, isn’t the end.  And if we live as if it is the end, the consequences will in fact have eternal repercussions. 

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Hocking Some Loogies

Last week I had to fly back to the states for some board meetings for our organization.  Initially, I was somewhat excited about it.  I have only traveled sans kids like once in the last 9 years.  So it seemed a bit like a fun little adventure that might include Starbucks and Target.

As time got closer to the actual trip, though, I started to have one my typical “Sara Freak outs.”  This was partially due to some last minute travel details falling through, but in large part, it was just due to the fact that I tend to freak out before traveling.  Despite the fact that I travel by airplane more than the average person, I really do suffer from travel anxiety.  Most of the time, I am able to manage this bout of anxiousness with lots of prayers, lots of trips to the bathroom (TMI ???), and lots of “mind over matter” kind of exercises. 

So it was not at all out of the ordinary for me to be lying in bed with Hubby the night before my trip overanalyzing all of the possible “worst case scenarios” that could potentially happen to the kids or me while we were separated.  Hubs knows me well so a back rub and some prayers calmed the storm that was beginning to brew in my head, and thankfully I was able to get some sleep.

To make an excruciatingly long story short, travel day ended up being one of my worst trips yet and culminated into me standing in the Atlanta airport at like 1am with no place to go, no option of staying inside the airport (it was like 11 degrees that night outside), and no hotels within a 45 mile radius even answering the phone…oh and no US cell phone to even be able to make phone calls.  I frantically used Facebook to make my SOS calls, posting to my wall in hopes that someone, somewhere could help me.  My anxiety was in full throttle.  I was panicking and only barely able to keep my tears from spilling all over the very nice Guatemalan man that refused to let me stay by myself until he was certain I had somewhere to go.  God bless him!

Thankfully I have awesome friends and so many folks that love me and know me well enough to meet me in my state of frantic. A dear sister drove almost an hour to pick me up at the airport and gave me sweet refuge at her home. (Her mama even had a delicious meal waiting for me upon arrival…at like 2:30am).

All ended up being fine, and I went to bed feeling so grateful for God’s care over me but also for the reminder that most people (strangers and friends alike) are really good and really generous and that sometimes those moments when we feel like we are spinning are the moments that we get to see how God really did create us for community and fellowship.

“All is well that ends well,” goes that old saying, right?

Not always.

Hubs sends me a message the next day that said something to the effect of, “Glad you are okay.  I knew it would all be fine.  I love you.  Have a great rest of your trip. But, can you stop talking about how bad it was on Facebook now.”

“What?” I didn’t even know what he was talking about.

Later in the day, some well-meaning friends start the teasing about how in hindsight, though, it really was just a “first world problem” and how I might have been treading that invisible “over-sharing” line on social media with all my posts about my travel troubles.  They definitely don't mean any harm with their comments, and I know they just like to give me a hard time because they love me, but it definitely awakens something in me. 

When I get a few minutes alone, I anxiously read through all my posts from the day before.  How many did I actually post?  Did I sound too desperate?  Was I making a big deal out of nothing?  Was I over sharing?  Should I have handled it differently?  Why can’t I handle things better?

I was giving myself a good, internal butt whooping.  I decided to go through and delete most of the posts.  I wiped the few tears that had managed to escape from my eyes and pulled up the bootstraps and tried to just move on from the whole debacle.

But internally I still wrestled.  I thought about those people I know on social media that post the endless selfies.  I remembered what other friends said about them.  I thought about the folks that “like” their own posts and a scathing post another friend wrote about people that do that.  I thought about those friends whose posts are mostly complaints or grievances and how annoyed I have felt by them in the past.  Basically I just climbed down into one big, dark social media hole. I made jokes about my “over sharing” and tried to blow the whole thing off as no big deal once I was back in Guatemala, but the whole thing just kept gnawing at me.

This morning I was reading in John.  I have been spending lots of time in the Gospels because frankly more than anything, I have just wanted to hang with Jesus.  I wanted to keep walking with Him.  And there is no better place to do that than through reading through the Gospels.

Today I found myself in John 9.  It’s like 41 verses long, so I am not going to write it all here, but I highly encourage you to go read it.  I seriously laughed out loud more than once while reading it this morning.

The gist is that there is a blind man who has been blind since birth.  The chapter starts with Jesus’ disciples arguing about whether or not this man was blind due to his own sin or because of something his parents had done.

First of all, he totally can hear them.  And I am pretty sure I would have been much more spikey and said something like, “Hey guys! I am blind, not deaf. I can hear you talking about me.”  But blind guy is already a way more self-controlled person than I am, so he just keeps chilling while Jesus gives his disciples a good talking to.

But then Jesus comes over and spits on the ground.  The Bible says that he literally “spat on the ground.”

Quick pause.

So in eighth grade, on the way to a softball game with my friend and her parents, I was sitting in the seat directly behind the driver.  The windows were all down, and her dad decided he needed to “hock a loogie” out the window.  Well we were driving pretty fast down a back road highway, and this “loogie” did not stay outside but instead came back through the back window and landed squarely on my forehead.

It was the epitome of disgusting.

So let’s just say my mind goes to Jesus basically “hocking a loogie” on the ground here.   Jesus then takes this spit and mixes it with the dirt and rubs it on the blind guy’s eyes.  I am not sure if this was a “loogie” or just spit but either way, I can attest that this will not feel that pleasant on your face.  It probably feels gross.   Jesus tells him to go wash his face.

This miracle mixture heals the blind man.  Yay!

But the chapter goes on and the Pharisees in general Pharisee fashion start freaking out.  One because Jesus did this on the Sabbath and two because they still are not yet ready to recognize that Jesus is in fact the Son of God.  Nevertheless, what ensues I found to be quite comical.  The Pharisees can’t come to a logical conclusion so they decide that the blind man must not have actually been blind, so they call his parents to get proof that this is all just one big charade.  The parents are like, “No clue who healed him but he was in fact blind since birth.  Why don’t you just ask him how it happened?  He is old enough to tell you himself.”

Cue Pharisees going back to blind man to interrogate him once again on how he regained his sight. By this point, the now seeing blind man is feeling a bit more spicy (yay for that) and says, “Guys, seriously, I ALREADY TOLD YOU! Do you want me to tell you again?” (If I could give him a standing ovation here, I probably would.)

The whole conversation ends with the Pharisees saying, in my words, “Whatever man. Who are you to even tell us what to think?  Get out of here!” Blind man then leaves. The Bible doesn’t mention where he goes just that the Pharisees kicked him out of their presence.

Now, obviously I don’t know this guy.  But if I were he, I am pretty sure I wouldn’t be feeling so great about myself at this point.  I am a HSP (Highly Sensitive Person), so I would be overanalyzing every event from that day so far.

“Let’s see, the day started with me overhearing those guys, that are always hanging around with that other guy Jesus, talk about whether or not my condition was my own fault or my parents.  The Jesus guy then hocks a loogie on the ground and uses it to make some sort of miracle potion that helps me see.  They leave, and I am left to defend myself to those haughty Pharisee guys.  They have the audacity to bring my parents into the mix and even after all that still wouldn’t believe my story and decided to just go ahead and kick me out! Talk about a crappy day”

This is my version of how that would have went down in my head, but I am guessing I am not too far off. 

Thankfully this isn’t the end of the story, though.

The most beautiful thing happens.  Jesus finds him and meets him in his mess of brokenness and confusion and maybe even hurt.  Jesus meets him there, and He gives him something even greater than his physical sight.  Blind man’s spiritual eyes are opened too and he can see that Jesus is Lord, and he worships Him.

Not gonna lie. I got a bit teary with this whole scene this morning.  I laughed and then I cried because well sometimes that is just how life goes.  

The heart of the matter is, though, that Jesus met me in my brokenness today too.  He reminded me that my weakness does not make me unqualified.  I get anxious about silly stuff sometimes.  I, more than I should, get worked up about stuff that is little and can be fixed.  I make a bigger deal out of things than I should.  I walk way to close to the line of “worst case scenario.”

I am prideful. I am sinful.  I am still in need of a Savior to come and gently meet me where I am.  I need Him to see me and my junk and to gently and lovingly remind me that He has saved me. I have new eyes to see. 

And then I need to worship Him.

It was really quite a beautiful moment for me.  Nevertheless, though, I still felt a bit of a sting as I was watching those Pharisees carry on.  How many times have I judged those selfies or “likes” or over shares on social media as being self-absorbed?  How many times have I rolled my eyes?  The Pharisees were desperate to find an answer to what they felt was a very complex question, “How can this once blind man now see?”

The answer was simple, Jesus.

When we see people in their weakness or brokenness or hurt or pain or confusion…when we see people giving us glimpses of their weaknesses, we have 2 choices. We can mock them in it.  Sure maybe we don’t do it out loud but I am guessing ALL of us have done it in our heads.  “Look at that basket case! What a mess she is?!” or “Here we go again.  Always drama!”

Or we can pick a better way.   We can pray for them.  We can show them a Jesus that meets them in their brokenness.  We don’t have to fix them.  That isn’t our job.  We don’t even have to have all the answers for them. 

Jesus says to the blind man in verse 39, “For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind.” At this point, the Pharisees panic, thinking that he is talking about them, to which Jesus replies, “If you were blind, you would have no guilt, but now that you say, ‘We see’ your guilt remains.”

Those of us that know Jesus Christ have been given sight.  We are no longer blind.   But having that sight also gives us a responsibility.   We have a responsibility to not keep walking around like we are still blind!

Additionally, it should also mean that we are not ashamed when our own weaknesses are revealed.  We don’t quickly try and delete those weaknesses away for fear of being found out.  We instead stop and stay still and wait because we are assured beyond all doubt that we have a Savior and a Lord who will meet us right where we are at.  He may not “hock a loogie” to rub over our eyes, but with certainty we can trust that He will give us sight to see what we may have been blind to once before.

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