As long as I live there will be something worth fighting for, worth writing for, and worth dying for.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Let me be wasted

People ask me why I chose to do 'this.' Whatever 'this' may be.

My five year high school reunion is this summer. People I haven't spoken with in years are suddenly taking interest in where I am, what I'm doing, what I have been up to. See, I graduated high school with big dreams. I was the one who was 'going places.' People, I'm sure, expect me to be a doctor or something impressive by now, but I'm not. Even members of my family expect me to be something 'more.' Those I love dearest are disappointed at my lack of 'success.' Opposition comes from every side.

But I am grateful for the people that God puts in my life. People who encourage me and remind me of why I do 'this.' Why I do not pursue a climb up the corporate ladder. Why I serve here, right where I stand. Why I spend all day working at a job that is much less than enjoyable and nearly all of my free time writing or working with teenagers. Someone told me I have no life. On the contrary, I have an abundant life.

I think I needed to be reminded of that today. I stood and talked for nearly 20 minutes with a dear family from my church. They have been such a blessing to me. Today I probably shared more with them than I ever have with anybody. Had it not been during church, there might have tears. It is not easy being transparent with people. It is not easy reliving the disappointment that others express in me. It is not easy reliving the disappointment that, at times, I know I have been. But they, this family, are a beautiful picture of grace. Embracing and understanding that what I am doing now is what I believe God would have me to do, even if it does seem 'reckless' or a 'waste of a perfectly good life' as some would say.

Let me be wasted.

After that discussion, and a moving message about mothers, a woman at my church pulled me aside and reminded me of a song. She asked me if I had ever heard it and asked me to put it on my site for people to listen to. Yes, I have heard, though I dare say I may have never actually listened to it.

The words are touching, real and so true of my own life. I love the chorus:
"I've come to pour my praise on Him, like oil, from Mary's alabaster box. Don't be angry if I wash His feet with my tears and dry them with my hair. You weren't there the night He found me, when He wrapped His loving arms around me. And you don't know the cost of the oil from my alabaster box."

How quick are we to judge the worth of another's service? Or the worth of another's worship? The worth of another's life?

You were not there when Jesus found me. No one knows the change He has made in my life. I do not fully understand the change He has made in yours. If He calls me to serve, I will serve. If He calls you to be a lawyer, than be a lawyer. If He calls to be a missionary, be a missionary. It is a life of abandon, a life of continual, sacrificial worship that brings an abundant life. I don't care how many trophies you have. I don't care how many friends you have. Neither does He. He cares about how much of you He has.

When this woman brought in her box and broke it at His feet, half the people couldn't believe she had even dared come to Jesus, the other half couldn't believe she had wasted her precious oil on Jesus. Funny the extremes we go to. On one hand, we are esteemed unworthy of grace, on the other grace is esteemed unworthy of us. Yet, God, in an act of unprecedented love, provided a sacrifice in Himself that His holiness and justice demanded.

I am unworthy of grace, yet I possess it. For that I rejoice. For that I owe Him every last bit of my being. For that I owe Him my every breath, my every movement, my every word. I owe Him my alabaster box and more. Call it a waste if you must, but if it be for the glory and honor of my Saviour,

Let me be wasted.

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