Worth it all

"When I survey the wondrous Cross, on which the Prince of Glory died, 
My richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it Lord that I should boast, save in the death of Christ my God. 
All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood." 

I have only read the first two and a half chapters of Radical by David Platt, and already it is challenging my view of what it means to really follow Jesus. I've started to wonder what harbored habits have to go, what little luxuries are not as innocent as they seem, in what small ways I have begun to flirt with materialism. I have said I am following a Man who was abandoned by friends, rejected by most, and condemned to die by the authorities. I have said I am standing with His followers, who, yes, conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, and put foreign armies to flight, but who  were also tortured, suffered mocking and flogging, chains and imprisonment, were stoned, sawn in two, killed, and went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, and mistreated. I didn't make up that list, it's in the Bible. That's the side I stand on, and yet I walk in ease and comfort, offending none. It seems a little unlikely. I have started to ponder what I am to do, not just think. I've started to think that maybe, this path I have chosen will be even harder than I originally imagined. 


These are high-risk thoughts to think -- the outcome could end life as I know it. I may have to wish the American Dream goodbye. After all, Jesus never told us it would be easy -- in fact, He told us it would be downright difficult. 


In order to even begin thinking about these things (much less beginning to come to any conclusions), one very foundational truth had to be in place. 


Jesus said it would be hard. He also said it would be worth it all. 


In Matthew 13, in both the parable of the hidden treasure and the parable of the pearl of great value, Jesus says that the man and the merchant sold all they had. The call of Christ, it would seem, invariably involves sacrifice. But they sell everything for a treasure, for a pearl of great price. They didn't give up what they had because they had to. They gave up all they had because they had found something infinitely better, and they wanted it. 


David Platt describes the parable of the hidden treasure this way: 

"You know in the end you are not really giving away anything at all. Instead, you are gaining. Yes, you are abandoning everything you have, but you are also gaining more than you could have in any other way. So with joy -- with joy! -- you sell it all, you abandon it all. Why? Because you have found something worth losing everything for." 

This year has made me think about eternity more and more. The death of two young men I knew has cemented the reality of heaven into my mind indelibly. It's nearly impossible to have heaven on your mind for any length of time, and still really believe that the things of this world are of much consequence. The more I think about heaven, the less important the world seems. After all, I only have to be in one forever. 


It's kind of like going to a beach house. My family went and stayed in a friend's beach house for a week after I got back from college to have some family time. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice beach house. It was far from perfect, however. The beds there weren't as comfortable as my bed at home. The carpet wasn't my favorite color. It was smaller, and we all had to share rooms. So, of course, we remodeled the whole thing, bought new furniture, repainted the walls...


Of course not! That would be silly. After all, we're only staying there for a week. Better to use our money to make the house we live in all the time liveable. Isn't that the same as our lives on earth when you start thinking about heaven? You invest your money in the house you're going to spend the most time in -- we ought to invest our time, energy, and yes, money in the Kingdom we are going to spend the most time in also. 

"Or, in the words of Jesus, "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." [Matthew 6:19-21]


Giving up earthly treasures for treasures in heaven is always worth it. 


But I don't think it's just heaven that makes it all worth it. Maybe, just maybe, it's worth it on earth too. 


I'm not advocating getting your perspective on life from Bon Jovi. However, in the song (the only song by him I listen to),  "Livin' on a Prayer," he describes Tommy and Gina's hard life. He continues to say  that they've got to hold on to what they've got, they've got each other, and that's a lot. There seems to be a sense that earthly poverty can be endured, so long as you are with someone you love. 


Okay, so that's enough mushy, feel-good talk. But look at the application. I don't know about you, but I think I would rather walk through a hard life with Jesus, who loves me more than any earthly person every could, beside me than walk through the American Dream alone. I would rather speak with my Redeemer every morning in a jail cell than be the subject of another lonely millionaire story. We are willing to say we would rather be with family and friends in a small house than alone in a mansion. Why is it such a far leap to say we would rather be with Jesus in a hut than alone in a castle? It's the love of Jesus that makes even the love of family and friends pale in comparison. 


Jesus is worth it all. 


I do not yet have the ability to say, unequivocally, that I want to give up every earthly possession and friendship that I have. I can say, however, that if that what it takes to have Jesus, then it's worth it. 


I have leaned for far too long on the the sweet, frail frames of this earth. Too many times I have forgone the sustenance of heaven for the tempting dainties this world offers. They have failed me too many times. Clinging to a blood-stained cross on a lonely hill, I found I am far richer than when ruling my castles of sand. 


I do not know what God will ask me to give up, turn away from, or sacrifice in the days, months, and years to come. I do not know what trials, persecutions, or valleys I will have to walk through. I do not know what others may think of me, or how they will treat me. But I know this. It will not be a burden or a sorrowful thing to sacrifice these things, anymore than it was a burden for the man to sell all his possessions to gain the treasure in the field.


If in the end, I have Jesus, then it is worth it all.

Thankful for the Fleas

We lay back, struggling against the nausea that swept over us from the reeking straw. We could hear the women who had arrived with us finding their places.
Suddenly I sat up, striking my head on the cross-slats above. Something had pinched my leg.
"Fleas!" I cried. "Betsie, the place is swarming with them!"
We scrambled across the intervening platforms, heads low to avoid another bump, dropping down to the aisle, and edged our way to a patch of light.
"Here! And here another one!" I wailed. "Betsie, how can we live in such a place!"
"Show us. Show us how." It was said so matter of factly it took me a second to realize she was praying. More and more the distinction between prayer and the rest of life seemed to be vanishing for Betsie.
"Corrie!" she said excitedly. "He's given us the answer! Before we asked, as He always does! In the Bible this morning. Where was it? Read that part again!"
I glanced down the long dim aisle to make sure no guard was in sight, then drew the Bible from its pouch.
"It was in First Thessalonians," I said. We were on our third complete reading of the New Testament since leaving Schevingen. In the feeble light I turned the pages.
"Here it is: 'Comfort the frightened, help the weak, be patient with everyone. See that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all...'" It seemed written expressly to Ravensbruck.
"Go on," said Betsie. "That wasn't all."
"Oh yes: '... to one another and to all. Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus--"
"That's in, Corrie! That's his answer. 'Give thanks in all circumstances!' That's what we can do. We can start right now to thank God for every single thing about this new barracks!"
I stared at her, then around at me at the dark, foul-aired room.
"Such as?" I said.
"Such as being assigned here together."
I bit my lip. "Oh yes, Lord Jesus!"
"Such as what you're holding in your hands."
I looked down at the Bible. "Yes!" Thank You, dear Lord, that there was no inspection when we entered here! Thank you for all the women, here in this room, who will meet You in these pages."
"Yes," said Betsie. "Thank You for the very crowding here. Since we're packed so close, that many more will hear!" She looked at me expectantly. "Corrie!" she prodded.
"Oh, all right. Thank you for the jammed, crammed, stuffed, packed, suffocating crowds."
"Thank You," Betsie went on serenely, "for the fleas and for--"
The fleas! This was too much.
"Betsie, there's no way even God can make me grateful for a flea."
"'Give thanks in all circumstances,'" she quoted. "It doesn't say, 'in pleasant circumstance.' Fleas are part of this place where God has put us."
And so we stood between piers of bunks and gave thanks for fleas. But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong.
--
At first, Betsie and I called these [Bible] meetings with great timidity. But as night after night went by and no guard ever came near us, we grew bolder. So many now wanted to join us that we held a second service after evening roll call. There on the Lagerstrasse we were under rigid surveillance, guards in their warm wool capes marching constantly up and down. It was the same in the center room of the barracks: half a dozen guards or camp police were always present. Yet in the large dormitory room there was almost no supervision. We did not understand it.
--
Betsie was waiting for me, as always, so that we could wait through the food line together. Her eyes were twinkling.
"You're looking extraordinarily pleased with yourself," I told her.
"You know we've never understood why we had so much freedom in the big room," she said. "Well-- I've found out."
That afternoon, she said, there'd been confusion in her knitting group about sock sizes and they'd asked the supervisor to come and settle it.
"But she wouldn't. She wouldn't step through the door and neither would the guards. And you know why?"
Betsie could not keep the triumph from her voice: "Because of the fleas! That's what she said, 'That place is crawling with fleas!'"
My mind rushed back to our first hour in this place. I remembered Betsie's bowed head, remembered her thanks to God for the creatures that I could see no use for. 

-The Hiding Place; Corrie ten Boom

I recently finished The Hiding Place for the first time. It's an amazing book that everyone should read. There are so many powerful quotes and passages. This one stuck out particularly to me when I read it, because the application to my life was so obvious.
There have been a few specific situations this week where something has irritated me, and I found out later that if it hadn't been for those minor irritations, I would have missed out on an enormous blessing. I am not going to tell the story -- somehow, it seems petty to talk about my little irritations right after reading about Corrie's experience in a concentration camp as if they somehow compare. Besides, who of us can't think of our own story about the moment where we suddenly understood that God's plan really is better?
It's one thing to thank God for the big hard things, knowing it will grow us, or to look back later and say, 'oh, I get it!' It's a different ball game entirely to look at all the small, annoying things going on this afternoon -- the traffic, the scheduling issues, the lost item, the low battery, the fleas, and thank God ahead of time.
I, personally, am tired of constantly looking back and apologizing for complaining about something that turned out to be in my benefit. Maybe it's high time I just learned the lesson. Maybe it's time to have a little faith, exercise a little trust, and say 'thank you' things don't go my way. God doesn't have to prove Himself to me, but He has done so over and over again, and yet I fail to trust Him when something goes wrong.

I resolve to thank God for the fleas in my life, and rest in the knowledge that everything works to the good of those who love God, even if we don't see them. Will you join me?