I recall a moment nearly six years ago when I was traveling alone to Africa. I had been traveling for almost 24 hours, and was on my last flight to Dar Es Salaam. The sun was starting to set in that part of the world, and there I was looking below at the red dirt of Kenya. I was sitting next to nun on her way to Kilimanjaro, and on my MP3 player a song came on: Everything by Lifehouse. The words “You’re all I want, You’re all I need, You’re everything…” hit me and I realized that that plane could go crashing into the red dirt and I could die that day and I would be fine with it. I was content with my life up to that point and HE was everything I wanted.
That plane landed safely, and since then six very full years have passed.
I am now married. I am now a mother.
I have more things to lose now…
But that last few years I feel like God has been teaching me to give up more and more. But don’t get me wrong: giving things up has somehow become fundamental in truly having those things.
It almost seems like the more I have, the more I am having to give up. And in turn, the more I give up the more I end up having. Maybe C. S. Lewis said it best:
“From the highest to the lowest, self exists to be abdicated and, by that abdication, becomes the more truly self, to be thereupon yet the more abdicated, and so forever.” (The Problem of Pain)
I struggle to put into words how the more dreams I give up for God, the more comforts and desires I leave in His hands, the more I have and yet, the less I care about them. It’s as if God doesn’t really care about you having or not having these things, but simply loving Him more.
Up until now, we lived an average Mexican life - living in a middle class town for me hasn’t been hard. Ministry was something we went to every week, not something we lived in.
But now, we live in the village full time because God opened the door to a house to rent. It took three years to find someone willing to rent a house, so we are well aware of how this is a big deal.
But living in an indigenous village full time is giving up certain comforts. It means that I’m not living an average middle class Mexican life anymore - I am living where I obviously have no business being except to serve God.
We are composing an expensive perfume.” - Itiel Arroyo
A bit of this quote is lost when translated into English: the lisping sound of the Spanish accent, the ‘ismo’ after expensive that implies great expense, and simply the excitement of his voice. But the point is still the same: our life’s sufferings (or giving ups) are just the creation of a wonderful perfume - a perfume will be split onto the feet of Jesus.
“We’ll never be able to go back to being normal Christians after this.” My husband said - never be able to just go to church on Sunday and Wednesday night and call it a fulfilling spiritual life. You can’t put it back once you’ve spilt you life.
You spill out your life, only to get full again, only to once again, be spilt out for Him. It sounds painful, and it is, yet the perfume we’re making for Him is uniquely ours to be treasured only by Him.
Thank you so much for sharing! That is a great perspective. I’m so excited for y’all to step into this new season God has for y’all. I’ll be praying. Dios te bendiga!