There are times when worship isn't beautiful. But it is true.
When it comes out in a scream instead of a song.
When it comes out in a limp instead of a leap.
When it takes all that you have to keep on worshiping—when it takes more than you think you have.
That's the place I'm in right now.
After my mum's passing earlier this year, Peter and I stayed in Canada to help be a support for our family for a couple of months. Leaving them was like tearing myself apart.
And yet, we know that our Heavenly Father has still called our family to something different, and asked us to come to Okinawa. To pay the price of surrendering our families to His keeping, and show His love to Okinawan people through sacrifice.
And now, with our little cat, Blackie, dying, that sacrifice is punctuated with more pain.
I find myself wondering how I'll be able to manage getting through this next year of ministry before we return to Canada again.
I find myself wondering if I'll have the strength and energy to pour myself into loving the people around me when grief has greyed my view.
I find myself wondering how I'll get through tomorrow, let alone an entire year.
But then I realize I'm asking the wrong questions.
This is not about, nor has it ever been, about me doing anything. This about Jesus working in and through me. This is Jesus' mission. This is Jesus' dream. My dream is to follow His.
[1]
And I'm reminded of that beautiful thought some missionary friends shared with us before we’d even begun: “Every tear, every ache of homesickness is an offering of worship that goes straight to the throne room of heaven.”
So, along with King David, we joyfully proclaim, “I will not give my God offerings that cost me nothing.” [2]
Lord, rain on me. Reign in me.
NOTES
[1] Michael W. Smith, “Let it Rain”, released September 2001, track 8 on Worship, Reunion, compact disc.
[2] See 2 Samuel 24:24.
