here i am; send me
Thursday, Mar 27
today, as i drove through juarez and heard a song come on my radio that i've sung a million times in church, i realized something.
i realized the realness of telling God that we're willing to go and do for Him, to give us "one pure and holy passion" or to "take my life..."
i realized that in a church service, thinking and meaning these things may mean standing and worshipping God, surrounded by others, being in God's presence, maybe with tears pouring down your face and having a heart ready to serve.
i realized today what this looks like in action. and how it's the exact same thing, yet it looks completely different.
these words put to action, for me, mean spending a week with people i don't know. they mean being dirty, hungry, and exhausted. it's driving down a street in Mexico alone to drop off tools, so tired that i'm falling asleep as i drive. it's laying on top of a mixer as i dig through a million tools trying to find the one i need that is under everything, and getting covered in dirt and concrete in my clean clothes as the trailer door slam into me as the wind blows it shut. it's not being able to get a huge metal door shut as the sand and wind blows at me and the metal door throws me back and comes inches from slamming into my truck.
"here i am; send me" (isaiah 6) is being God's hands and feet when the tears have dried, the pounding heart and the safe church building is gone. its pouring out your life as you cry out and struggle through it. it's being exhausted, alone and dirty as i sit in a foreign country with a bunch of people i just met. it's Jesus dying after He carried His own cross on His bloodied body and then cried out to God.
"here i am; send me" costs everything.
being Jesus' hands and feet hurts, and is the hardest thing i've ever done. but it is the only purpose for my life.
the beauty of being His hands and feet changes from nice clothes and everyone on their best behavior and worshipping God together, to a different kind of beautiful. to a beautiful of dirty, calloused, blistered and worn hands, a sunburned face and an exhausted prayer as you fall asleep in the middle of it, in a dirty sleeping bag on a cot in a church in Mexico.
worship changes from songs in your Sunday best as you go out to lunch with friends and family afterwards; to a conversation in broken Spanish as you sit in the dirt eating lunch and talking with the family whose home your building that you just met. worship becomes pulling up trash from the landfill that we're building on top of, so we can level and build a solid foundation for this family's new home.
God's love is changed from words from a pulpit, to sitting on a roof in a poverty stricken colonia and watching an amazing sunset over cardboard and pallet houses as soccer games are played in the streets.
for me, this is faith lived out. what is seen and done beyond the words. for me this is Christ.
this is the life He intended for me.
giving, till i have nothing left to give.
"here i am; send me" is the most powerful and life altering sentence i've ever spoken
today, as i drove through juarez and heard a song come on my radio that i've sung a million times in church, i realized something.
i realized the realness of telling God that we're willing to go and do for Him, to give us "one pure and holy passion" or to "take my life..."
i realized that in a church service, thinking and meaning these things may mean standing and worshipping God, surrounded by others, being in God's presence, maybe with tears pouring down your face and having a heart ready to serve.
i realized today what this looks like in action. and how it's the exact same thing, yet it looks completely different.
these words put to action, for me, mean spending a week with people i don't know. they mean being dirty, hungry, and exhausted. it's driving down a street in Mexico alone to drop off tools, so tired that i'm falling asleep as i drive. it's laying on top of a mixer as i dig through a million tools trying to find the one i need that is under everything, and getting covered in dirt and concrete in my clean clothes as the trailer door slam into me as the wind blows it shut. it's not being able to get a huge metal door shut as the sand and wind blows at me and the metal door throws me back and comes inches from slamming into my truck.
"here i am; send me" (isaiah 6) is being God's hands and feet when the tears have dried, the pounding heart and the safe church building is gone. its pouring out your life as you cry out and struggle through it. it's being exhausted, alone and dirty as i sit in a foreign country with a bunch of people i just met. it's Jesus dying after He carried His own cross on His bloodied body and then cried out to God.
"here i am; send me" costs everything.
being Jesus' hands and feet hurts, and is the hardest thing i've ever done. but it is the only purpose for my life.
the beauty of being His hands and feet changes from nice clothes and everyone on their best behavior and worshipping God together, to a different kind of beautiful. to a beautiful of dirty, calloused, blistered and worn hands, a sunburned face and an exhausted prayer as you fall asleep in the middle of it, in a dirty sleeping bag on a cot in a church in Mexico.
worship changes from songs in your Sunday best as you go out to lunch with friends and family afterwards; to a conversation in broken Spanish as you sit in the dirt eating lunch and talking with the family whose home your building that you just met. worship becomes pulling up trash from the landfill that we're building on top of, so we can level and build a solid foundation for this family's new home.
God's love is changed from words from a pulpit, to sitting on a roof in a poverty stricken colonia and watching an amazing sunset over cardboard and pallet houses as soccer games are played in the streets.
for me, this is faith lived out. what is seen and done beyond the words. for me this is Christ.
this is the life He intended for me.
giving, till i have nothing left to give.
"here i am; send me" is the most powerful and life altering sentence i've ever spoken
