this is a piece I wrote a couple weeks ago and posted on my personal blog, but I thought it was pretty necessary to understanding this journey of mine, so here it is again 🙂
the cost
My stomach is in knots. “Terrified” might sound a little melodramatic, but it’s the only word I’m finding suitable at this point. I am terrified and confused and a million other emotions are colliding and crushing me. Today I had an interview for a missions opportunity that could take me all across the world for a year. Today God asked me, “Am I worth the cost, Hannah?” My immediate answer is yes, always, absolutely, completely, take it all. And I have been faithfully, safely sticking to that for two weeks now; a mindset that says that if I just don’t look at what He’s costing me, it won’t hurt as much. And after my interview, instead of letting everything stay in the corner I’ve put it all in, he threw it all on the table. He’s never been one for overviews. He likes the details, the nitty-gritty, the specifics of the specifics. And in some aspects, the cost is not much for me. Never showering and living out of a tent? Sign me up! Eating with my hands and hanging out with the poor, abused, and socially excluded? I am there with both feet planted firmly. Preaching and teaching and singing his gospel to people all over the world? My heart can’t beat fast enough.
But then.
“Hannah, am I worth the uncertainty that awaits you after this experience?”
Sure, I say.
But he knows my heart; he knows my thoughts and the pace of my heartbeat.
He says, “Hannah, sweetheart, I don’t mean am I only worth trusting in provision and protection for that specific time. I mean, am I worth getting your snow-white knuckles off the things behind you and never looking back? Am I worth only knowing that one step and nothing after it?”
Oh, I cried. In my car, to the soundtrack of k-love, the tears flowed.
Never looking back?
I thought of Abe and Sarah, of the Israelites when they left Egypt. This was the first time I really felt like I had some minuscule understanding of what they felt. They weren’t just walking away. They were choosing not to turn back. They were choosing to walk faithfully into the desert as God had instructed instead of running back to comfort, however wonderful or awful that comfort was. I saw rivers of tears streaming down thousands of faces. I saw neck muscles twinge as they nearly looked back and then swiftly decided against it. I saw the ones who did look back, and how much more unbearable it was for them. I saw Lot’s wife, fighting and fighting not to, and then giving in and immediately turning into a pillar of salt. I felt their pain stinging in my heart.
If this calling comes to fruition, the cost will be high. I will be leaving the comfort and consistency of America for 11 months. I will be accepting a position that leaves me with no job, no clear life plan, and not a lot to fall back on post-trip. I will be agreeing to not enter a dating relationship for another year and a half. I will be at the mercy of the Lord’s finances and not the steady supply from a job that I’m used to. It will cost me ease and sleep. It will cost me holidays spent with family and friends. It will cost me pride and control. It will even cost me certain levels of safety. It will cost me the normal, go-to way of life after a twenty-something graduates with a degree.
The cost terrifies me. And yet, there he’s put it. He’s not hiding it from me; he’s not trying to make it any less than it is. He’s presenting it to me, plain and simple. “Hannah, I know you say I’m your King and your Savior and your God and your Provider, but do you mean that? Do you trust me to be infinitely more than the cost?”
Do I trust him to be infinitely more than anything I’ve ever desired? Do I trust him to be infinitely more than a dream job or a dreamy husband or a life of monetary riches? I will not follow the example of the Israelites and take 40 years to do something that should have taken 11 days. I also won’t lie and say my eyes and my heart are not on junk that should be fading into the background. I won’t say the uncertainty of the big, scary black hole before me is anything less than daunting. But that’s why I can’t find my strength in myself. That’s why I can only rest in the Lord and let his strength cover me; trusting that he will tear my fears up by their roots and destroy them one at a time.
