I was sitting in the dining room, computer at my
fingertips and silence as my companion.
It was a beautiful thing. I knew dinner time was coming but I was fully
engaged writing and preparing for a Ladies event.
I was so close to done I could taste it. My hope was to finish and then move on to
dinner preparations. One child came upstairs and then another; all of
them singing the same tune about hunger.
I wanted to pretend I could multi task to make dinner and write at the
same time but it was a fool’s errand.
I quickly put the soup on the stove and
instructed my youngest son and youngest daughter to set the table. These two when combined have a rhythm all their
own. Beau instructed and Ava obeyed. It was a beautiful thing to watch.
I was listening as Beau asked for bowls, then
spoons, then cups then tea. Part of my
mind with the children, part with my work.
I wished I could finish my work or give myself the freedom to finish
later, but that is not how I am made.
I am a list maker and job finisher and I excused
my absence from the meal preparation in that I was preparing something needed
for an event just days away. Somehow it
felt as if I was doing something wrong.
I should be the one setting the table, stirring the soup, pouring the
tea.
I had given in to the work at hand, and seemingly
forced the household into child labor. Sometimes
giving yourself fully to something leaves another cup empty, but I
persevered.
I heard Beau tell Ava the table was finished. I felt the overwhelming pressure to log off
and log in to life in the kitchen but for another minute I delayed.
My daughter asked her brother, “Why did Jesus die
on the cross ?”
Beau, seemingly not surprised by the question
replied, “He had to so that you and I and all of us could go to heaven.”
I looked in the kitchen at Ava paused in
thought. Her head now shaking, she
seemed to understand the weight of Beau’s answer. “Wow,”
she replied, “that is completely cray cray!”
Beau, holding Ava’s blossoming faith in his hands
added, “It is Ava, that’s Jesus, cray cray for us.”
I looked at my screen; I had been writing about
passion. Passion for the pursuit God has
placed on our lives. Strange how when I
started to write, I was sure the women hearing my words would have the same
imaginations as me. Perhaps we are called
to a bigger, better ministry somewhere in this world.
I had just finished typing the statistics. You know
the ones. They tell us there are people
thirsty, hungry and impoverished. There
are children without parents and parents without hope. And we pause and wonder what God has for us in
this conundrum of seeming inequality.
Then I hear a 13-year old preacher, preaching to
his 5-year old parishioner and I realize the greatest mission field I will ever
have is within the four walls of my home.
It is not glamorous, it does not pay
exceptionally well, but its dividends are more than my heart can hold or my
mind can imagine. Paul writes to Timothy to work at telling others
the Good News, and fully carry out
the ministry God has given you. (2 Timothy 4:5b)
I divide myself into a dozen pieces each day
giving myself fully to none, but seeking for the next thing or a better thing
or an easier or less costly road. He has
lent me cups that I must fill with truth such that they can be truth tellers to
others.
I must tell them that the world is dark, and to
it we carry light. The world is confused, and to it we carry truth. The world is fearful, to it we carry courage. The world is dying, to it we carry life. Our calling is simple, it is the relentless reflecting
of Jesus in the place where we stand, sleep and serve.
He does not ask us to multitask. He asks us to serve in our kitchens, in our
churches, on our sidewalks and in our lives.
To pour ourselves out fully in the life He has given us.
We are to walk in freedom, not freedom bought by
a soldier’s blood but by our Savior’s. To fully serve, I must freely give and fearlessly
live. I want to live cray cray for Him, because
that is exactly how He loves me.
No comments:
Post a Comment