One thing I have realized in the past 48 hours or so is that in a lot of ways, I have actually idolized the idea of full-time ministry, an inadvertent sin on my part but a sin nonetheless. I get so excited about the prospect of it, but in a lot of ways it has become a romanticized and idealized notion. I keep thinking about how great it is to be able to meet up with people and scaffold them in their spiritual lives, to see them coming close to Jesus and taking steps to slowly but surely allow Jesus into transforming all parts of their lives, to see them grow, to see them discover their belovedness in the eyes of our Father in Heaven, to see them discover their giftings and passions and use them for the kingdom of God. I think about how great it would be to become a missionary, or a missionary's wife, or a pastor's wife, or all of the above, to have those ministries. And I keep thinking about how awesome it would be to give it all up for God and to just devote my life to intentionally building up the body of Christ.
But yesterday I was reminded of the costs. In a conversation with a close sister, I was reminded of the intense struggles that so many people go through (and I'm certain that we all go through at one point or another), and me feeling heartbroken for her/them and feeling utterly helpless in knowing how to comfort her/them, knowing what words to say, even knowing how to pray for her/them. I was reminded of this past semester and how I walked with some or saw some walk through the valley of the shadow of death (or so it felt) and how heartbreaking and gut-wrenching it all was, how there was nothing I could possibly do or offer and ended up allowing it to weigh down on me and unable to release it to the one who could bear it all (the latter of which I realize I need to learn how to do). Those are probably just as common, if not more common, than the joys that come along with ministry and working relationally with people. Am I ready for that x100+? Am I ready to see the world through God's eyes, to see the brokneness of everything, and to see His heart for each of His children?
Yesterday I also read a biography on Eric Liddell (the Olympic runner but also the missionary to China) published through YWAM Publishing. While it was an encouragement, I was reminded of the realities of the world, and the reality of what it would actually be like as a missionary. Would I be able to endure and persevere through such opposition and persecution? It would be so much more extreme than the "persecution" I feel I go through with needing to defend and share my faith with my family and whatever, which seems absolutely miniscule in comparison. And I guess the question I had in my mind was, would I be willing to endure all of this for Jesus. Would I be willing to go to the ends of the world to share God's love with those who haven't experienced it, at the possible personal expense of bodily harm and even death?
To be honest, right now I couldn't say that I would. I don't think I'm that person yet, but I want to be. I feel like there's still such a long road of growth and development to go... forever. I want to hurry, but I know growth is a gradual process, and so I have to be content with little transformations daily until the call comes to make that stand. Sometimes I think I'm in such a rush to get to the endpoint, only to not appreciate the beauty of the process, and only to find that the endpoint was not actually an endpoint, but a beginning of something else. Thank goodness that God is there the whole way through. A good sister shared this verse from Psalm 139 with me once and I want to end this post with it:
You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
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