If you stopped
by because you read my devotion today over at Encouragement
Cafe, WELCOME! So glad you are here!
Going a little ahead, he
fell to the ground and prayed for a way out: “Papa, Father, you can—can’t
you?—get me out of this. Take this cup
away from me. But please, not what I want—what do you want?” Mark 14:35-36 MSG
At
the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve my one word S-A-C-R-I-F-I-C-E activated
like a Cinderella spell, barely a week since God dropped it into my heart.
I tried to shake it off
like a wet dog after a bath, but it wouldn’t leave. Sacrifice didn’t conjure up
those fuzzy, warm, feel-good emotions like grace or faith or prayer. No, after
a year of tremendous loss, sacrifice was the hardest word to accept because I
already felt given-out. What more? What more could I possibly give? I felt exhausted,
wrung out, spent and ungrateful and the New Year was only seconds old.
Days
later, I hunkered down for a relaxing winter’s night before we froze under the
polar vortex headed our way. Another crisis came and I went out again; called to sacrifice and serve.
During
short breaks, I closed my eyes and rocked silently in my own grief while my
heart froze like the pipes beneath my mother’s house. This sacrifice was hard
and painful. My hands and feet served until my nerves shook me to the bone and my ingratitude ground me to a pulp. Worn down, I prayed God
would melt those frozen pipes, let the waters flow and release me from that
place. Hours passed, and just when I thought God fell deaf, release came.
Flowing water never sounded so good—like cascading waterfalls—from every faucet.
Homeward
bound on those darkened country roads, words from a familiar childhood hymn drifted
from the stereo, melting my ingratitude. “Are we weak and heavy laden cumbered
with a load of care? Precious Savior, still our refuge, take it to the Lord in
prayer.”
Tears
I’d bravely suppressed spilled everywhere—my own heart’s release—and I cried
that sloppy, blubbering, snotty cry all the way home. And when the tears
stopped flowing, I wondered if I’d failed the test. Did I sacrifice well? Did I
really offer up my best to the Lord in all I did this week, or had my ingratitude
nullified my offering?
Before
my heart could punctuate the question, God’s answer came. “Well done. You
obeyed and did the hard and painful things. You would fail only if you had
ignored my calling and stayed comfortable.”
“But,
Lord, I grumbled inside. I asked for relief. How is that serving well?”
“Even Jesus asked for the cup to pass, didn’t he? But when it didn’t pass, he
drank. He went where I called him to go. He sacrificed—gave until it hurt—out
of obedience to his Father. And so did you.”
Sacrifice—the
offering of all we are and all we do—to the Lord is hard and often painful or
it wouldn’t be called sacrifice. I can’t say I’m excited about this word, nor
have I fully embraced it, but my heart is listening and drawing nearer and
nearer to God's throne because it calls for strength beyond my own.
Ah, yes.
Maybe that. Maybe it’s all that—the drawing nearer to God—whatever it takes,
until Heaven’s waters flow. When we surrender everything to God, we gain even
more—God’s favor, authority, glory, salvation, eternal life.
Do
you find yourself in the midst of a hard sacrifice? Maybe it’s been a long year
of hard sacrifices and God’s calling for more. If you feel you’ve given all you
have to give, take heart, Jesus is there to strengthen you, to walk along side
you and encourage you. Call on His name and He will draw near to you.
Prayer: Heavenly
Papa, draw near to us, especially when the sacrifice is hard and we feel spent.
Teach us to draw upon the strength of Jesus. And Papa? When we pray for the
hard cup of sacrifice to pass us by, let our hearts’ desires to line up with
yours. Not our will, but yours, Papa. Amen.
So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him.
Romans 12:1 MSG
