The concepts of service and sacrifice have been a part of my life since I was young. When I moved away from home at 14, I got my first taste of both. At first, though, there wasn’t really much of either service to God or sacrifice. It was more an experience … fun and exciting and new. Learning about God and others and myself. Growing up a little more. Making friends.
When I felt the “call to India” at 15, the concept grew a little more clear, and more poignant. When I was 16 and actually moved to India, and my best friend died half a world away, in my mind I tangibly felt God pull the rug of companionship and kin out from under me. I knew it was for a reason but that didn’t make it easier.
When I was 18, I visited my family for a short time before returning to India, and upon arriving back in India, I suffered from depression for months … and never told anyone how I was feeling. I never felt so alone.
Year after year, experience stacked upon experience. I had my Mount Moriah moments, where I felt too much had been asked of me … yet I received back in return more than I could hope. I also had my Garden of Gethsemane moments, where I asked for the cup to pass untouched.
But not a single sorrow or heartbreak or sacrifice would I trade now, for all that has been given to me in return.
I’m 31, and have a wonderful and loving husband, talented and beautiful children, work that I love, goals I am chasing after with a passion, a home, friends and family nearby. God has blessed me beyond measure.
So that’s a little bit about me and a touch of my experience with both service and sacrifice. That’s why, when I heard the song by Sidewalk Prophets, “You Can Have Me,” it struck a chord deep inside.
If I saw You on the street
And You said come and follow me
But I had to give up everything
All I once held dear and all of my dreams
Would I love You enough to let go
Or would my love run dry
When You asked for my life?
Telling the Father of Love, “You can have me” is not meant to be a one-time event. I ask myself, what would my response be if He once again asked me to give up everything? For some reason, I don’t think in those terms much anymore … I gave. He gave back to me. End of story.
But is it?
Or is that perspective the very thing that so often makes our love for God unmoving? Unconsuming?
May the prayer of my heart be, as the song goes …
I will love You enough to let go
Lord, I give you my life
I want to be where You are
I’m running into Your arms
And I will never look back
So Jesus, here is my heart