For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. (2 Timothy 4:6)
The other day a woman came knocking on our door here in Mijas. In her voice was the sense of urgency, pain. Her cry beckoned my heart. The walls of my heart were trying to hold on, desperately trying to prevent me from feeling broken, trying to prevent me from feeling her hurt and pain. A pain that would unleash me to action. She was asking for money for her and her child, I think to head to the pharmacy.
I agree in most cases its not prudent to give out cash to just anyone. But I don’t want to use prudency anymore as an excuse to put up walls in my heart. Instead of trying to find reasons not to help people, am I willing to sacrifice everything to share the love of my creator, and paradoxically then know that love as He flows through me? Instead of what can’t I do, I want to ask what can I do. Yeah, it probably isn’t a good idea to give out money to just anyone, but could I have used the opportunity of the woman at the door to in some way provide for her that would cost me more than money; perhaps my time and my heart. What do I have? How can I show her love?
While we were in a small village of Mexico on the World Race, someone knocked on our door in the middle of the night in a torrential downpoor. We didn’t understand his local dialect, but I instinctively knew he wanted to be cared for in some way. After trying to understand through hand signals, attempting to give him food, all of us getting drenched in the rain, we gave him a blanket and the kitchen to stay in for the night. But my heart was desperate to invite him into our home. That would have potentially cost us our safety; who was this guy? I think we often instinctively know what people are longing for, we know what they are asking. But we’re afraid of what could happen if we could be broken enough to give everything away, to be “wasted” for others, so we use excuses to draw lines to protect ourselves. They want to know that someone is willing to love them enough even to care for, and in time even be invited into our hearts. I know that I long to have what costs others everything. Those that become my best friends are those that are willing to give me what costs them the most – their heart.
Yesterday I ran up into the mountains and … what? I prayed for more brokenness. Why do I do this? My pain stops for a moment and I pray for more. Why!? Because I deeply long to feel the love that Jesus has for all people. Yes, we do need to care for our hearts and our families. But I want to feel used. I’ve put up so many walls around my heart to protect me that I have very little to give to others. But as much as it hurts, I want to feel naked at heart.
Am I willing to be immersed in an ocean of need, really trusting the sufficiency of God’s love? Am I willing to be rejected? Am I willing to learn another language … or many? Am I willing to have few material posessions; am I willing to have no rights; am I willing to feel insecure in my surroundings? Am I willing to give up my couch or my bed or my dirt floor so I take every opportunity to share the love of Christ with someone in hopes that they may know Him? Perhaps if we began loving the people in the woodwork all around us, they would dare to ask for more, dare to require more of us. And that could be one of the most amazing experiences we could have on this earth.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”— Matthew 6:19-21
Above Images: Fisherman in the nearby town of Fuengirola. I’m finally considering the Malaga area my home for now, and I’m loving building relationships and sharing Jesus with people from all over the world!
