Today, I wanted to take a rare opportunity to be personal in a way that I usually avoid. In the past couple of weeks, a local church has been having 21 nights of worship, and my son and I have attended a few times. Each time that I attend, it’s resulted in receiving a vitally necessary message that keeps me going or that gives me a new sense of vision. The last time that I went, God cornered me right in my greatest spot of weakness. But, before I get to that, let me give you a review of the past week.
El Buen Pastor
My son and I headed to an orphanage around an hour outside of where I live called El Buen Pastor. I had been planning to go there since around November of last year when one of my sons, Elvis, left to live. But, I had no idea where it was, and it took the people at 21 months and months to get me a phone number. Another one of my sons, Jorge Torres, left in January to return to El Buen Pastor (as he has grown up there his whole life except for the months he spent in 21 due to bad behavior). Words cannot express my happiness at seeing my sons after so much time apart. They both came running to meet me, so excited, because neither of them had ever had visitors and spend every visitors’ day reminded of their lack of family (or their distance). Jorge, 13, never knew his parents as they both died when he was young. He does have two older sisters, but I don’t get the impression that he sees them often. Jorge is brilliant, positively brilliant, and has a very good heart. Elvis melts my heart. He has the greatest smile and most genuine laugh and such a willingness to serve. Elvis, 14, is just now learning to read and write because he grew up being the sole caretaker of his parents. His father is handicapped and can’t walk, and his mother has mental problems. He has an older sister who also has mental problems, and the story as I understand it is that Child Services went to confiscate the older sister’s baby when they also found Elvis. Elvis was selling firewood in order to bring his family food—and who knows how long that had been his life.
I talked with the psychologist, the social worker, and the director of El Buen Pastor, who were so supportive in letting me come visit since normally they only allow blood relatives, and they all expressed a concern about Elvis’ wanting to leave. He is worried about his family, which I completely understand. The social worker told me that she hopes to visit his home which is even farther away from my house than El Buen Pastor and that they had seen pictures of Elvis’ home in a dangerous area that is basically a shack made of tarps, scrap plastic, and scraps of wood and metal. I really want to help my son and his family. I really want him to be able to take advantage of the opportunity to study without having this pressure of his family’s well-being constantly weighing on his young shoulders. Knowing that we often have teams from the US, Canada, and Denmark who have an interest in building homes (and perhaps that would include some of you who are reading) here, I talked with the social worker who is going to work on getting me some more information. If there would be any possible way to build a simple house for Elvis’ family and find a way to get them a sustainable income or regular help, I want to find it. I am a firm believer that love looks like something, and in this case, I believe it’s undeniable that it looks like a home and an income. So, I’m in prayer that God would open those doors to help as possible.
It brought me so much joy to spend time with Elvis and Jorge (along with Josuan, who, of course, came along because he is stuck to me like glue). The boys were so proud to have visitors, someone on the outside who cares about them. When their friends were staring at the only gringa mom and came over to ask about me, both of my sons were shy. We’ve been apart for a while, and I’m still on trial with them in terms of whether or not I’m worthy of trusting as a mom. So, when their friends asked them who I was, Elvis got a big smile as did Jorge who shyly didn’t know how to answer. Finally, he quietly said, “A friend?” I smiled, and Josuan quickly jumped in, “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know that she’s your mom?” Josuan has had more time with me than any of his brothers; thus, it’s a lot easier for him to accept me as his mom. I laughed and explained, “As far as I’m concerned, they’re my sons.” Visitation days at El Buen Pastor are only once a month, but I plan to continue visiting every month.
The director and I talked about where the children go once they turn 18, and once again, I was presented with an obvious need. Elvis is counting down the years before he can leave to return to his family, but once Jorge is old enough to leave, where will he go? He doesn’t have parents, and I don’t get the idea that his older sisters are very stable. They still obviously have some time before they’ll leave, but my mother’s heart is already beating, “With me! With me! I want them to come home with me! They belong to me!” And then reality sets in, and I’m reminded that I don’t have a father for them or a house to take them to.
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| Josuan, Marvin, and I being silly at Teen Challenge |
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| Take two--I had pictures of John and Jesús too, but they accidentally got erased. |
Teen Challenge
The following day, I went to Teen Challenge with Hermano Nati, Oscar (one of Nati’s adopted sons who lives on the streets), Josuan, and Hermano Walter’s family. On the way to Teen Challenge, God surprised me by reminding me of something that got all of this started—a simple phrase that has turned my world upside down, “Don’t hold back.” You’ll soon understand why He told me that. It is always such a joy to see my sons. In fact, I think I forget when I’m away from them how much I love being with them. Sunday was such a big surprise as well. They have a very free worship service, and worship is where my heart convenes with God’s heart. And, as in any relationship, the interactions we have vary—sometimes, all I can do is cry while other times, I find that I can’t contain my joy with what my Daddy God is doing, so I have to dance. Going to Teen Challenge and seeing what God is doing in my sons fills me with such joy that even when I try to stifle myself, eventually, I just have to dance, especially as my son on crutches is jumping on one leg beside me. Much to my surprise, the pastor called me up front as an example to the rest of the family members of what worship can look like, and he gave me a rare opportunity to give a testimony. I barely kept back tears as I explained that I have never been a mother before, but when I was six-years-old, God told me that He had told my parents to name me Sarah because I’d be the mother of nations. I explained that while it seemed like coincidence, I ended up at 21 and met my destiny—my sons. And, when I see what God is doing in the lives of my sons, how can I do anything but be full of joy? Jesús and Marvin came to join me up front, and I encouraged the families to surrender it all to God—their worries, their fears, and their children. And, I told them that it’s really just as simple as stopping for the One—God, to listen and to obey—and stopping for the one person in front of them. And I beamed with great pride in saying that while I didn’t give birth to my sons, I do love them as my own. When I returned to my seat, Josuan was in tears, and when we talked later, he explained that something just touched his heart in hearing my words and made him cry tears of joy.
The pastor came up afterwards and told us that Josuan could come to stay the Sunday after his next orthopedic appointment which will be April 28. I only half-believe that, but we’ll pack his clothes and be ready anyway.
Jesús is doing well. He is such a character. Marvin informed me that Jesús has sold all of the clothes and shoes I sent for him in exchange for more food. I can’t even be mad about that. I just have to laugh. My child is such a trip. Sometimes, it’s a struggle to balance giving attention to all of them because Josuan has jealousy issues (he seems to think he should be an only child), Marvin is the class clown who likes being the center of attention, and John is usually very reserved and needs sought out which sometimes leaves Jesús as the child tugging on my shirt sleeve saying, “Mom, Mom, Mom! Look at this! Mom, look at me!” And then when I look, he has nothing to show me and just wants to bury his head in my shoulder. Ha ha. I love all of my boys so much. They are all so unique.
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| Marvin--Could my child be any more precious? |
Marvin and I spent a lot of time together later that day, and I got an eye-opening conviction that I wasn’t prepared for. I love adoption, but I am very cautious to not take hold of the position of mom or as family if it’s not been given to me. When my child has family, I am cautious as to what depth I adopt my kids because I don’t want to make their families feel bad or create a sense of competing for the child’s love. That is not my heart. I see the whole purpose in my adoption as a way to break a cycle that exists so prevalently in this country. So many parents have grown up abandoned, as orphans, in extreme poverty, in abuse, in neglect, in indifference, or in various situations where they didn’t feel loved. How is a parent supposed to give a Love that he or she has never received? Thus, the cycle continues with their children. So, my heart and belief is that God is loaning me my sons so that He can love them back to life through me to send them back to their families to give the Love that their parents likely never received. That is how I believe that He is going to restore families. But, like I said, I’m cautious as to how deeply I adopt, so as not to take a position that isn’t mine. I didn’t get so deeply involved with Josuan until it was evident that his mom wanted nothing more to do with him. (But I believe God is going to restore that family in His time.) I, honestly, have been relatively hands-off with Marvin and John. I apparently met Marvin at 21 but didn’t remember him, and he didn’t really remember me. I re-met him the first time I went to see John, and from that first day, he was my son. But, because I knew he had family and John as well, I’ve never sent them anything or been responsible for their needs (in any capacity). I didn’t see myself as their sole support system, and thus, have held back so as not to step on their family’s toes. But Sunday changed that.
Marvin is a talker who likes to captivate my attention when I go. We spent a lot of time together walking and taking extra food I’d cooked around to the various tribes where the boys often don’t get visitors, just to spread some love. Marvin started by telling me that being up front with me and hearing me talk about how much I love him made him want to cry because it touched his heart. He said, “Explain something to me, Mom, because I don’t understand. Why is it that when you leave, I get sadder than when my family leaves? Why is it that when you don’t come to visit, I miss you more than when my family doesn’t visit? Why is it that I feel more love for you than I do for my own family? I love my family. Don’t get me wrong. But, it’s just not the same kind of love. It’s not as deep as the love I have for you. You’re more of my mom than my own mom.” I had no idea that this was so. And how crazy is that when the most I’ve ever done for Marvin is visit him, give him food when we visit, and love on him? I pray for and love him like he’s mine, but my outpouring of that love tangibly has been limited. I’ve been holding back. The same goes for John. Marvin and I talked about his mom’s own childhood and how it’s difficult for someone to give a Love he/she has never received. Marvin’s parents haven’t visited in close to four or five months.
The other eye-opener for me was John. The last time I went to visit, John was going strong and encouraging Josuan. This time, John was discouraged and ready to leave. I didn’t get too much time to talk to him because his girlfriend was there to visit, but even though he was verbally assuring me that everything was all right, I know my son better than that. He recently had his first visit outside of Teen Challenge. After so many months, they’re allowed to leave one weekend a month to visit family or whoever. His options of where to go given his past history are relatively limited, and this will be the case when he completes his time at Teen Challenge as well. (Once again, my mother’s heart wants him with me along with Jesús, Marvin, and Josuan.) Talking to Marvin and seeing John made it evident to me that my boys need more than what they’re getting—especially from me.
Take Charge of Your Family
All of this brings me to how God rocked my world just a few days ago. I went to Tsebaoth, the church here that is having 21 days of worship, prepared to hear from God. I was fervently praying for John because I don’t want to lose him. He is too valuable. He is too important. I don’t ever want to see him return to the life he had before. And, as I was praying for John and asking God what I should do, He made it clear that I need to stop holding back. “Take charge of your family, Sarah. If you don’t fight for your sons, who’s going to?” And as He said those words, He began to play images in my mind of the kinds of things I need to do—things that I’ve felt nudged to do by the Holy Spirit but haven’t because I haven’t felt capable. He started to make it clear that my greatest responsibility right now isn’t to a ministry; it’s to my family, unconventional though it may be. And, if that means I have to let go of “ministry” to take care of the family that He’s given me, then so be it. That was the first day of revelation this week which was following the next day by another, much grander revelation.
Your Maker Is Your Husband
And this is where it gets really personal. The truth is that I’ve been holding back because there is a part of me that has been waiting for God to give me a head for my household because I didn’t want to be a single mom. I have never wanted to be a single mom, and I never thought God would ask me to do so, especially since children need both a mother and a father and because of the stigma attached to single motherhood. (You have no idea how much respect I have for single moms as a result of this short, short experience I have of being one!) After fielding my fair share of comments from Christians like, “The greatest decision of your life right now is who you’re going to marry,” I was afraid of what it would look like to other Christians to be the single, 23-year-old mom of teenage, drug addict boys. (I still stand by the truth that the greatest decision of my life at any given point in time has been and always will be whether or not I will obey Jesus no matter how large or small the request.) But, if God can ask Mary to get stuck in with the stigma of getting pregnant out of wedlock, so He could send Jesus, He can ask me to be a single mom to fulfill His perfect will too. He just doesn’t do things according to our societal expectations or to make us look good, righteous, and holy according to religious norms. He’s too creative for that. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to go ahead and accept the role as single mom. I didn’t want to accept the perpetual exhaustion, the constant lack of support from another parent, the questioning of whether or not I’m making the right parenting decisions, or the financial, emotional, and spiritual pressure and responsibility for these precious lives. I thought perhaps if I just held out a bit longer and kept begging God (as if He doesn’t already know), that He’d go ahead and give me the father for my children, and I wouldn’t have to take on a spiritual role that I don’t feel capable of.
None of this single motherhood is a surprise. When I was living in Mexico in 2010, God kept reiterating that I was going to be a mother to nations, but He also kept reiterating Isaiah 54:
“Sing, O barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband,” says the Lord.”Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. For you will spread out to the right and to the left; your descendants will dispossess nations and settle in their desolate cities. Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood. For your Maker is your husband—the Lord Almighty is his name…”
And Isaiah 49:
Lift up your eyes and look around; all your sons gather and come to you. As surely as I live, declares the Lord, you will wear them all as ornaments; you will put them on, like a bride. Though you were ruined and made desolate and your land laid waste, now you will be too small for your people . . . The children born during your bereavement will yet say in your hearing, ‘This place is too small for us; give us more space to live in.’ Then you will say in your heart, ‘Who bore me these? I was bereaved and barren; I was exiled and rejected. Who brought these up? I was left all alone, but these—where have they come from?’
Don’t get me wrong—God has also made it clear that He does have a husband who has been set apart for me, in His time. But, even reading those verses as the blueprint for my future, I kept rationalizing that God wasn’t going to make me be a single mom. Clearly, He must have been speaking metaphorically or symbolically. Nope—the hour has arrived, and He is asking me to accept what He has made me for at this time, a single mom. I’ve always known that my nations of children are non-negotiable for any potential husband. At 23 (almost 24), I’ve never had a boyfriend largely in part due to the calling of God that He revealed in my life at an early age. Throughout my youth, there have been various guys who have passed through my life who didn’t have the same heart or calling, who didn’t necessarily treat me all that well, etc., who I could’ve convinced myself (and sometimes tried) were good enough for me, but the dream of my children and the loyalty to God’s call on my life never permitted me to settle…because they weren’t good enough to be the father of my nations of children (who, at this point, didn’t even exist in my world). But, there is a difference between motherhood and nations of children in theory and lots of adolescent sons in the flesh which cause those thoughts of, “Who on earth is going to want to be my husband if it means fathering adolescent drug addicts, orphans, gang members, thieves, the poorest of the poor, and the ones who no one else wants?” I know that this question is ultimately irrelevant because the husband God has for me, who I’ve waited so long for, will and does have the same call of God on his life. I’ve had my share of guys (before moving to Honduras and while living here) who have tried to tack themselves onto my dreams and my calling when it’s evident that they don’t have the same heart that I do. And, while I could go along with it for a while when my sons weren’t real, now that they are, I’m not willing to let anyone play with my sons’ hearts, which means being their dad isn’t a privilege just anyone can take hold of or joke about to try to stir up my feelings.
The truth of the matter is that one of the reasons I’ve been struggling so much with single motherhood, even just with all of this time with Josuan, is that I’ve taken it the wrong way. My big brother, Hermano Nati, has called me out on this before, especially on particular days where I was ready to throw in the towel by telling me something to the extent of, “Yes, Sarah, you have more time to wait before he can go to Teen Challenge. But it’s all in how you take it. All of this is in how you take it. You can take it as a blessing, a chance for God to teach you more, a preparation, or you can take it as a burden, an exhaustion, or as something that you’re just supposed to survive.” To be honest, there are days when I’m completely taking single motherhood as a punishment with thoughts that venture into, “God, after taking such good care to not be in relationships, to maintain purity, to wait for the husband You have for me, why on earth do I have to be a single mom? It doesn’t seem fair.” What a mindset, right? …as if I should somehow be earning the husband God has for me. Of course, it doesn’t work that way anymore than it works to earn God’s grace or love. The truth is that I’ve been so exhausted that I have been just surviving, not even really taking the time to learn everything God is teaching me because my mind, my emotions, and my body are just completely shot. This, however, isn’t inevitable. It comes from priorities. It comes from waiting for a man to be my husband or the father of my children instead of embracing Him as my husband and embracing myself as whom He has called me to be at this time.
The second night at Tsebaoth, I was once again turning over God’s words in my mind about taking control of my family, and He said gently, “Sarah, Your Maker is your Husband. If you will treat Me like your husband, the head of your household, and the Father of your children, you will have the strength to take control of your family, because it will be Me doing so through you.” And He began to show me ways that He had already been taking care of me like a husband—in His provision when I needed it most, in His protection when my son and I were robbed, and in giving me little gifts that I didn’t even notice because I was too tired to be looking.
“And, if I’m your husband, you can ask anything in My name, and I’ll give it to you.” That’s the first time I think I’ve ever felt the motive of that verse. I’ve always had a fear in asking God for things (not that it necessarily stopped me) because I didn’t understand why He would want to give it to me. But, oddly enough, in these days of great violence and drug massacres and hearing stories of my son’s old stomping grounds, I find myself asking God for territory—specifically drug and gang territory. I want those areas to spiritually belong to the Kingdom of God, and I want God to give them to me. I surprise myself even as the prayers escape my lips because who asks to go into the heart of the darkness? Who asks to be given drug addicts and murderers? Who asks for the area where Kevin, my little brother, was kidnapped? But, I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life . . . and mixed in with these prayers for territory, I began to understand what that verse means as I thought of the King and Esther. “Ask for anything, my love, and it will be yours…” Of course, it will be hers because he is in love. Of course, what I ask for in His name will be mine because He is my Husband. And, just like that, I understood what God was trying to give me—what had been lacking. You see, I want a radical love. I want to see people healed and raised from the dead—not to be a spiritual big shot but because Jesus said we’d do greater things than He did. I want those things to be outpourings of God’s love that bring people into a relationship with Him. But, in hearing testimonies from all over the world about the relationships that radical missionaries like Heidi Baker have with God, I knew that what was lacking for me was that level of intimacy with God.
I liked the idea, but the truth is that I had no idea how to relate to God as a husband. I can relate intimately with God as a Father, but the phases in my life where I’ve come close to relating to Him as a husband are very few and far between. (One would be during my road trip with Gabrielle in the summer of 2011, a time we happily call our honeymoon with God.) This is partially because my love languages (if you’ve ever read Gary Chapman’s book, The Five Love Languages, you’ll know what I’m talking about) are quality time and physical touch. The lack of God in the flesh is daunting sometimes, and what does it mean to take quality time with someone who you can’t see? (in a form that isn’t a devotional or some spiritual/Christian norm) I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m just saying I didn’t know how. So, I asked Him, “And just how do I treat You like my husband?” This isn’t really that difficult of a question for me especially since I’m well known for being Miss All or Nothing, and when I love someone, I give 110% even if I’m receiving absolutely nothing in return. This can mean making food, spending amounts of money I’d never spend on myself, dropping everything to do errands or favors I don’t have to do, writing letters of affirmation, being completely available to spend quality time the second the person shows any interest in spending any time with me, and giving hugs or just being physically close. I cannot hide when I love someone, and in general, I can’t do so half-heartedly. So, even though I am in this situation of single motherhood out of love first and foremost for Jesus, He doesn’t have my 110% if He doesn’t have my priority of time, closeness, and attention as much as a human being does. He’s not really my husband if I’ll drop everything for someone else before I’ll drop everything for Him. And this realization was greatly convicting, and in my weary heart, almost guilt-inducing (which, I know, is not from God).
So He showed me an image of us on a date. He told me, “Start like this—make a candlelit dinner. Let’s eat together. Let’s talk. Let’s dance. Just let Me hold you. Take the time to dress up, to feel pretty.” And, this idea is not only completely foreign to me because I’ve never dated, but it’s also completely foreign to me because the thought of doing all of this for a person who isn’t before me in the flesh would make it seem like I’m doing all of this for me. This thought is the thought that brought me to tears because it made me realize that what God was asking me to do was just as much or more for myself than it was for Him because I don’t do nice things for myself. In the year and seven months of living here, I can’t think of a single time when I’ve taken the time to make food that was especially enjoyable or that I even really like just for myself. Usually, I scavenge and am content with whatever I happen to find in Alvin’s house or in my own cupboards that is easy. I’ve taken tons of time to cook and bake for the girls at the Eagle’s Nest, Raúl, Raúl’s family, Alvin’s family, neighbor kids, my sons, etc., but I never ever take that time or spend that kind of money to make something just for myself. Never. To me, it’s not worth it. I’m not worth it.
As a missionary, there’s often that looming thought in the back of my mind that I’m financially here due to the generosity of other people. I don’t earn my living here. God sends it to me through other people. And for that reason, when it comes to my own personal spending, I’m extremely frugal and cautious. When it comes to spending money on anyone else, on the ministry, etc., I hold nothing back. But, I usually wait until I get some birthday or Christmas money or a donation specified only for me and not the ministry that I’ll actually spend money on myself—and it’s usually for a necessity like a pair of shoes. It’s not that I don’t have the money; it is simply that I feel guilty (not even necessarily due to other people; usually it’s due to my perception of God).
Guilt has been one of my biggest struggles throughout the majority of my life, but this has especially been the case with this adventure with my son. I feel guilty when I let his nagging make me frustrated. I feel guilty when I start to pull away because I’m so emotionally exhausted. I feel guilty when I’m not spending enough time with him. I constantly battle that question of, “Am I a good mom?” And, I don’t have a husband to affirm that for me or to encourage me, so that question is often unanswered. So, when God tells me to take the time to rest in His presence and spend time with Him like a husband to build our relationship (which I would completely do without guilt if I were married to a man), it’s like He’s giving me permission to rest, to take the time to listen to His affirmation, and to just let Him hold me. Ms. Carla, my children’s pastor when I was much younger and a family friend, told Gabrielle and I while we were road tripping that while she was a single mom, she used to go to places like parks and sit down to talk with God like her husband, putting her arm around air like He was physically there to be intimate with Him. I so admire the intimacy that Ms. Carla has with God, and more so, I can see how that intimacy with God deepens the love she has in her marriage. That image has stuck in my mind, and now, I understand why.
God told me when I was 19 that I would never truly be able to be intimate with someone else until I was fully intimate with Him. So, He’s been stripping away layers of old wounds, healing as He goes. He’s been taking years to draw me closer through difficult experiences. He’s been there while I’ve been emotionally beaten up by myself and others, and we’ve reached a level of intimacy as Father and daughter. And, I’ve kept asking, knowing that He’s not going to give me a husband until we’re intimate, “Are we there yet? Are we intimate yet?” Ha ha. I imagine that if I have to ask the question, the answer should be obvious.
The truth is that I’ve known that the love of God is extravagant, and I’ve been learning more and more how to love extravagantly, but seeing God through the lens of my own guilt or through a lens of unworthiness has kept me from accepting His extravagant love for myself. It’s the reason that I’ve come so close to settling. It’s the reason that I constantly fear failing Him. It’s the reason that I struggle with doubt when I come to Him asking for the very desires He’s placed in my heart. It’s the reason that I accept mistreatment and feel like it’s what God has for me to endure because it’s what I deserve. (I know, on the contrary, that the beauty in accepting mistreatment comes when one knows precisely that God’s love runs deeper than the mistreatment and that we accept it not because it’s what we think we deserve but because persecution for the Kingdom makes us blessed.) It’s the reason that I haven’t known how to delight in Him—because it means letting Him delight in me, which I haven’t felt like I deserve. And, I now know that God has permitted Josuan to be with me for so long to bring me to this breaking point because if my relationship with God doesn’t go deeper and more intimate, my life as a missionary, as a mom, and as a Christian will level off and never ever reach its full potential. I can accept my life as a single mom because He not only gave me permission, but He designed this phase within His perfect will to make us more intimate.
To close, I want to give you a glimpse into some verses that have rocked my view of the character of God. My son and I have been discussing tithe a lot in his time with me, and in our research, I came across Deuteronomy 14:22-26, a fairly standard passage on tithing but one that inescapably reveals God’s nature as an extravagant lover.
Be sure to set aside a tenth of all that your fields produce each year. Eat the tithe of your grain, new wine and oil, and the firstborn of your herds and flocks in the presence of the Lord your God at the place he will choose as a dwelling for his Name, so that you may learn to revere the Lord your God always. But if that place is too distant and you have been blessed by the Lord your God and cannot carry your tithe (because the place where the Lord will choose to put his Name is so far away), then exchange your tithe for silver, and take the silver with you and go to the place the Lord your God will choose. Use the silver to buy whatever you like: cattle, sheep, wine or other fermented drink, or anything you wish. Then you and your household shall eat there in the presence of the Lord your God and rejoice.
This is the God of the Old Testament! He does not change; He was an extravagant lover then and is one now. He told the people something that in the realm of frugality or work ethic makes no sense! I send 10% of all of the support that I receive to some other part of the body of Christ—this means that 10% of my support goes to support missionaries in places like China, Uganda, Mozambique, and India. But, I can’t imagine taking that 10% just for the sole purpose having a celebratory dinner for me and God. It would scare me to spend that kind of money (from the smallest amount to the greatest) on something that on the outside would look like it’s just for me. But that’s what He ordered! He told them to enjoy, celebrating in His presence, by eating 10% of their hard work for the entire year. He told them to buy whatever THEY wanted to eat and enjoy. And, just as He is doing for me, I believe that He did this just as much or more for His people than He did for Himself. He is ordering them to take the time and the money to enjoy their blessings so that they know that their lives aren’t about their work. Their lives are about His extravagant love. The other thing I notice that I feel like I’ve only begun to scratch the surface of is this: The way that God chooses to spread His Name, take His Kingdom territory, etc., is through obedience to go where He says and through showing His extravagant love. Can you imagine the places where God led His people to spread His Name? “What is this giant crowd of people doing here, eating and drinking and celebrating? Who are they? What are they celebrating?” “They came because they’re celebrating their God’s blessings. Their God told them to eat 10% of their harvest for the year to revere and rejoice in His presence.” What person isn’t going to want in on a God who gives you everything and then demands that you use 10% to enjoy yourself in His presence?
I want to be a good wife to God. I want to let Him love me. I want to be intimate with Him, to let Him saturate every aspect of me, even my most guilt-ridden corners with His extravagant love because I see clearly now that it is only through this extravagant love that He is going to spread His name through me. It is only through His extravagant love and our being in love that He’s going to give me Kingdom territory. It is only with Him as the head of my household, as the Father of my children, and as my husband that I can be a good mom, an effective and joyful missionary, and a radical lover of others.
Just let Him love you extravagantly . . . It will turn your world upside down in the best way possible.
All of my love,
Sarah
