“For it seems to me that God has put us apostles on display at the end of the procession like those condemned to die in the arena. We have been made a spectacle to the whole universe, to angels as well as to human beings. We are fools for Christ, but you are so wise in Christ! We are weak, but you are strong! You are honored, we are dishonored! To this very hour we go hungry and thirsty, we are in rags, we are brutally treated, we are homeless. We work hard with our own hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted; we endure it; when we are slandered we answer kindly. We have become the scum of the earth, the garbage of the world – right up to this moment.”
1 Corinthians 4:9-13
“These words are not an exaggeration. The reason they are not true of those of us who call ourselves ministers of the gospel is not that Paul forgot the exact truth in using them, but that we have too many discreet affinities to allow ourselves to be made refuse.”
– Oswald Chambers –
When I was in Botswana, I got my phone stolen, which pales in comparison to going hungry & thirsty & being brutally treated & homeless.
I was robbed of one possession that usually just fosters distraction in my life. Alert the press.
One thing this loss really got me thinking about was legacy, & obscurity, & the contrast between the two, because I lost a lot of content I didn’t realize was super precious to me, I lost a lot of extensions of my thoughts & feelings, a lot of songs & poems. I lost the photos from my favorite month of ministry at a children’s home in Malaysia.
I lost a poem I wrote while meditating on the fragility of callous old men, looking at my Grandpa’s blood pooling under his skin as a result of his blood thinners.
I lost a poem that was three parts & a really important step in forgetting about a guy I needed to forget about at the time.
I lost a detailed poem about my first day in India.
I lost random snippets of revelations or meditations about the Lord that came over me on buses or walking down the street.
I lost audio clips of Spanish worship from my time in Mexico & some of my earliest, crappiest songs.
And I was mad, & extremely sad & annoyed at myself & others because we could have prevented it.
But then I thought about it…what are these things if not ”discreet affinities”…?
And what kind of disciple am I if I act like my own words & photos & sounds are my treasure? All this time that I acted like everything here on earth except Christ was refuse to me, all this time I thought I might have, even in the most miniscule way, identified with Paul’s disposition of knowing nothing but Christ & Him crucified I was subconsciously holding these things so dear. Worrying about my legacy. Leaving something behind if I was to go. Being remembered for something.
What was I going to blog about now after losing all my blog skeletons on my phone notes?
What would I post to instagram now?
What would I show people pictures of now?
In something as small & insignificant as losing a cell phone I saw in retrospect how insistent my flesh was on being known. Recognized. Applauded.
When did this become about so much More than Jesus?
When did this become so much about me?
And what if God calls me to obscurity? Like…what if that’s what His calling involves exclusively. What if He calls me to a place out of the way, what if it’s not an extraordinary, unreached place. What if it’s a completely normal place…like Fort Vermilion, or Kingston or Saskatoon or Idaho?
Then what?
What if He teaches me daily to rely a little less on extracurricular things? What if I’m forgotten by YWAM & AIM & I don’t have the money for a MacBook to blog on or a camera to snap pics with? What if I actually had to get on a boat or plane & say goodbye to my family for good, knowing the Lord called me somewhere indefinitely, like missionaries of old used to do?
We pretend that we have revolutionized things, evolved as people, even as Christians. But I don’t believe this advanced method of missions is necessarily sophisticated. I want to be stripped back down, naked & hungry, desperately alone with Jesus so I can actually hear His heartbeat louder than my own.
There are obscure & forgotten saints whose finished journal, hymns & psalms sat with them in their unquestioning obedience, far away from book publishers & documentary directors. There are disciples who died & nobody cared. There are servants who go completely unnoticed. Would I be okay if that was my lot? And the well-known saints we love & learn from, who inspire us with their testimonies of great faith, are beautiful servants of God, I’m not disregarding that at all. But if the Lord asks me to move out of the way, into a place forsaken by men, to faithfully preach a message that will fall on deaf ears & to never be recognized for it…God forbid I reject the call for a more palatable adventure, a destiny that’s a little easier to swallow.
”Are you ready to be not so much as a drop in a bucket — to be so hopelessly insignificant that you are never thought of again in connection with the life you served? Are you willing to spend and be spent; not seeking to be ministered unto, but to minister? Some saints cannot do menial work and remain saints because it is beneath their dignity.”
– Oswald Chambers –
Lord, let it never be beneath my dignity to be plain. Or to be less than plain. To be forgotten, to be treated with contempt. To be persecuted, as you promise your disciples will be. You didn’t even have a place to lay your own head, Son of Man, so what makes me think I deserve to lay my head down on a pillow of dreams come true? Especially dreams not conceived in You. Lead me to the cross, Lord. Where my flesh can be crucified. I don’t want to want for anything outside of You.
Some consider me melodramatic, but I refuse to believe the Lord expects anything less of me than He expected of Paul, Peter…Job.
He gives all, He asks all. Elisabeth Elliot said that.
