I remember the feeling well. The last Sunday evening spent worshiping in Georgia before I went for a second year in Asia, and I felt cheated. Cheated out of singing my favorite praise songs, led by well-rehearsed and skilled (paid) musicians for another year. Cheated out going to a fashionable job in fashionable clothes, then getting off work and going to fashionable restaurants with my friends. Cheated out of leading a "normal" life in downtown Atlanta.
I remember we were singing songs about laying down our lives and surrendering all we were for the sake of Jesus. And the feeling of being cheated morphed into accusation toward the young adults around me. Why was I the one who had to go? Why was I the only one being asked to really lay down my life here and leave for Jesus' sake? Why was God sending me away?
To this day I still barely understand what was going on in my heart that day. I knew I had to go. And part of me - a very teary-eyed part of me - mourned what I was leaving behind. Part of me was having a hard time with actually laying down and surrendering the things and people that I loved and that offered me comfort day in and day out. Then another part of me - the part that the cheated-feeling part tried so hard to ignore - knew that I had to go. Because there was nothing more important. Nothing better. No better way to spend a year (if that was where I was wanted).
I had this feeling again last Sunday. I was just minding my own business and all of the sudden some song about laying down my life was upon me and a wave of bitterness came over me. Namely at myself. Because I haven't been doing a wonderful job of this recently. I've been letting other things, good things like work and my husband (and also not great things, like the snooze button and TV), take up lots of my attention and my thoughts and even my dreams. But I didn't like this bitterness towards myself, so I turned my attention back to those around me. I plan on going back overseas one day. One day, I'll sell my belongings or give them away or put them into storage, say goodbye to my family and friends and lay down my life again. What about these folks? Do they know what they're singing?
I shared these thoughts I knew were not pleasing to the Lord with Aubrey on the way home.
He reminded me that God is probably not as honored by bitter missionaries as He is through the joyful homemaker or lawyer or garbage man.
I wonder how much He's honored by bitter a part-time secretary/part-time Chick-Fil-A cashier?
I know I'm meant to be a pilgrim. I see no other option for my life. But I think this year, or this couple of years, may be about learning how to be a pilgrim in a home land. How to cross cultures when the culture I'm suddenly clashing with is the one I grew up in. And how to be a joyful pilgrim. Whether I am crossing cultures in Asia or Orlando. Whether I am brought low or have an abundance. Whether I have plenty or I hunger. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4) I can be a joyful pilgrim, here or there.
Either way, I'm still not there yet. I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. I'll clash a little here and a little there...but I can still be joyful. And yes, the homemaker and the lawyer, if they press on toward the goal, they will clash and yet they can be joyful, too.
Because 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.
Therefore, my brothers, whom I love and long for, my joy and my crown, stand firm thus in the Lord, my beloved. (Philippians 3)
