Some basics for those of you just now dropping in: My sister and I are about to embark an 11-month Christian mission trip to 11 different countries across 4 continents. We’re headed to: Argentina, Bolivia, Paraguay, Chile, Uganda, Ethiopia, Rwanda, Serbia, Bulgaria, Romania, Cambodia, and Thailand. The work will range from country to country in partnership with established ministries in each area. We’ll work in orphanages, build churches, minister to trafficked women, and more. Between the two of us, we need to raise a total of $36,000 by October 2017.
My cousin sent me this text after reading my last post.
She knows this is hard for me.
Giving is an ordinary part of Christian life. Our parents made us tithe out of our allowances when I was a kid. The Lord has called everyone to give, and most people are comfortable with that.
But he has also called us to receive and receive abundantly- a good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, poured into our laps. The very essence of our faith is that we receive Christ, a gift far greater than we could have ever asked for. Yet here I am, still grappling with the thought of asking for and accepting such an enormous blessing. Receiving is not an everyday thing, especially not on this level. It takes a heart posturing from the Lord, a new way of thinking, and a humbled attitude. It’s tough.
My problem stems from two issues, opposite sides of the same coin. Insecurity and pride. I am too prideful to ask for money, to be one of those cheesy GoFundMe people. I want to look put together and responsible, not needy and entitled.
And I am too insecure. I feel unworthy. “No,” said Peter to Jesus. “Never shall you wash my feet.” This isn’t the first time I’ve identified with the brash and stubborn apostle.
So here I am, holding onto insecurity and pride, wondering how the two can co-exist so effortlessly. C.S. Lewis writes:
“[The devil] always sends errors into the world in pairs-pairs of opposites. And he always encourages us to spend a lot of time thinking which is the worse. You see why, of course? He relies on your extra dislike of the one error to draw you gradually into the opposite one. But do not let us be fooled. We have to keep our eyes on the goal and go straight through between both errors. We have no other concern than that with either of them.”
In the Bible a centurion comes to Jesus. “Lord,” he says, “My servant lies at home paralyzed, suffering terribly.” Jesus asks, “Shall I come and heal him?” The centurion responds, “Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed.”
Here is a man who understood what C.S. Lewis was saying long before Mere Christianity became the must-have coffee table book for every young seminary student. He was navigating between the two sins, focused only on Jesus and the healing.
“Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof.” By this we know that the centurion understood his own unworthiness. This was the perfect opportunity for some cringeworthy self-depreciating humor. But he doesn’t fall into the trap of self-doubt. He still presents his requests, still approaches the king.
And he won’t let pride stop him either. “Just say the word, and my servant will be healed.” Even as a man of authority, he recognizes that there are things only Christ can do. He humbles himself enough to ask, not worried about how the situation looks to the rest of the world. It was an act of faith.
I want to be like that, inhibited by neither pride nor insecurity. I want to hear Jesus say to me, as he did to the centurion, “Go! Let it be done just as you believed it would.”
