So here I am at 35,000 feet, flying over the Rocky Moun- tains en route to Char- lotte, North Carolina for a business trip. I’m surrounded by people, all destined for the same place, sitting so close and side by side, yet distant strangers that I will probably never see again in this lifetime; seems odd. Looking out the window I see the snow capped peaks, beautifully and radiantly reflecting the sun’s unobstructed rays. Glancing upward I can also see a contrast of the darkest shades of blue that lead to an expanse that blows my mind if I contemplate it very long.
I just shot Austin and Meagan an e-mail that they won’t receive until I land, letting them know I know they’re somewhere down there in my eye’s shot; I’m so close and yet so far. Wish I could swoop down and just drop in on them; a happy and glorious vision.
I’ve been thinking a lot and journal- ing lately in what I call “Grains of Grace” about my purpose, my calling in life. We all seek to know and understand with full and complete clarity what that is. There is certainly a universal and overarching mission for all of mankind, and without question in my own mind it’s to live honorably before God in order that all honor be directed away from us and toward Him (cf. Matthew 22:37; Mark 12:30; Luke 10:27). It never ceases to amaze me just how difficult that is. I, for one, constantly want to be my own god in order that others might honor me, thereby deflecting what’s due my Creator and bouncing it back in my direction. One of my greatest sorrows is that I’ll wrestle with this for the rest of my life, and yet one of my greatest joys is that God’s illumined me just enough to both realize and see it for what it is, dishonor in its purest and most raw state.
But beneath that paramount destiny, there’s a derivative vocation that I believe each of us is also called to fulfill. I also know this to be true because in the tapestry of God’s design He’s fulfilled the fullness of His image in His image bearers by granting each a measure of giftedness to be exercised while there is breath and while there is day (cf. Romans 12:6). He could have given every person the complete and perfect measure of His image, but He chose to save that for one, The One known as Jesus, His Son. So while I possess His image, it’s stained and it’s tarnished. Thankfully He sees me through the tinted lens of Jesus’ red blood which corrects that blurred image into one that’s righteous. And when all of His image bearers are functioning as they’re designed, in community with one another, then the harmony of their orchestration echoes the heavenly honor originally created in each of us.
But getting back to that special, unique giftedness that He’s granted unto me and me alone; what is that, and how is it to be fleshed out for the remainder of my life? Lately I’ve been getting on my knees in the early morning, while Victoria’s on her brisk walk and the rest of the family is sleeping, to beg God that I wouldn’t let one more day, one more hour, one more minute or one more second be wasted into something that doesn’t last for eternity. I’ve lived more than I’ll live, and the hourglass of life has more sand in the bottom than it does the top. Once a grain falls through the slender orifice it cannot defy gravity and re-enter the upper half. So in my prayers God has opened my eyes once again to the call of Jesus, the perfect image bearer, which is also my call, my vocation. And what is that? Sacrifice and surrender. If “the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve” (Mark 10:45a), then so should the sons of God not come to be served but to serve. My joy is complete in sacrifice, and my purpose is fulfilled in surrender. This is true for not only the redeemed, but also partially for the unregenerate. I look around and am astounded by the number of philanthropic and humanitarian organizations seeking to do good for others out of sacrifice and surrender. This, too, reflects the image of God. But I also live in a dualistically sinful culture that constantly contravenes and deforms that charitable DNA God’s placed in the fiber of my sinew. The extremes of selflessness and selfishness are not only dichotomous, but puzzlingly dissonant.
So now I feel as though I’ve got my primary and secondary callings defined, they’re elementary really; (i) the honor of God and not myself, and (ii) the sacrifice and surrender of self. Now, in sacrifice and surrender I honor God, provided my heart seeks to do so out of love for Him, but just how shall I sacrifice and surrender? Into what shall I do so? My family, my church and my work for sure, but is there yet something more, something even more specific? This is what I’m praying for, and this is what I hope God reveals to me soon. Maybe I’ve already found it and don’t know it. That wouldn’t surprise me in the least.
Walking down a sidewalk to meet with some friends for dinner last night I said to God, “This is great, Lord. In fact, it doesn’t get much better than this. I have a chance to be with two men I love, and we get to spend time investing into one another over a delicious meal and working through things that will last into eternity. I cannot think of a better way to spend my time right now. Thank You for granting me this privilege, but more importantly thank You for allowing me to see the glory of this opportunity for what it is, and not for what it isn’t.”
These are crazy thoughts, I know, and one’s that mean more to me than to anyone else. Typing this out like this helps so much. I suspect Victoria and my older children understand and identify with what I’m writing. (‘Thank you my dear family for being so patient with me.’)
Searching for that ultimate sacrifice and service in and through Jesus,
Tom
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