In the book of Luke, Christ tells us to “count the cost” of following him. Like a good king as he prepares for war, or a builder before starting a project.
We’re warned in the Bible that following Christ can mean leaving comfort for something more. Leaving your complacent normal life for a new sense of normal.
As Christ called the disciples, they left behind their normal, comfortable life for something that was full of persecution (and death for all but one of them, remember), but also full of life abundantly–they were leading people to true freedom through Jesus Christ.
In David Platt’s new book, Something Needs to Change, he wraps up his charge and challenge to the ready by saying bluntly, “the life of a Christian is always costly–for the people who are actually following Christ.” Ouch.
The past 5 weeks have been wild. I feel like the days slipped away quicker than I could take in every minute.
Full disclosure, the last 5 weeks were hard. Brutal some days. Sweet some days. But overall, really hard.
I’ve been “home home” for 3 days and WOW does life feel like a dream right now. Being in America feels impossible, and being thousands of miles from the place that was home for 3 months hurts.
The last week at HOPEthiopia was an emotional rollercoaster. My heart broke to leave the place that had become home. My heart broke to say bye to the kids that became friends and little brothers and sisters. My heart broke when they comforted me, instead of the other way around. My heart broke giving my last hugs to the house moms, and looking around their homes for the last time. My heart broke as I looked at the mountains around me and the rolling green pastures for the last time. My heart broke as the blue and orange roofs of the Children’s Village became little specks on the horizon as our van drove away for the last time.
A question that meets me back in America is, was it worth it?
And to answer simply… was what worth it?
Are you asking about the cold showers and the spotty electricity? Or the daily upset stomachs? Or the countless mosquito bites, or the itchy sunburns? Or the pokes and stares from the village kids? Or the hours of cutting grass and painting houses? Or the disconnection from family and friends? Or the risk of ~missing something~ at home? Or the feelings of loneliness in a room full of people? Or the days when living in community felt too hard?
Or are you asking about the sheer joy, overflowing love, abundant grace, ever-present Holy Spirit power in it all? The hours and hours of time to be in the Word or in prayer? The friendships that crossed language barriers? The belly-laughs and inside jokes? The days dancing in the kitchen and sneaking Nutella from the pantry (sorry, Zenit, I love you)? The moment when a 10-year-old finally gets his English homework? Or the moments running with a 5-year-old to the hidden wildflowers? Or maybe the moments when a 3-year-old is utterly content staying in your arms all afternoon? Or when the “bad kid” gives you a huge hug and says ‘I love you’? Or the days you spend giggling around a table with the strongest, wisest women you’ve ever known while they serve endless coffee and bread?
Or maybe its the fact that at the end of 3 months, I can see the fruit and answers to the exact things that I had been praying about. That finding it so hard to leave a place means that the place matters–and what a blessing that it.
Maybe I hadn’t appropriately counted the costs before going–and maybe that’s human nature, and maybe that’s why Jesus explicitly tells the disciples to consider that.
The costs were great (but I am very aware they could have been much greater).
But the reward was far greater.
So yes, it was and is and always will be worth it.
What a blessing to love a place so much that it hurts so much to leave.
What a blessing to learn more from a child than I could ever teach.
What a blessing to live a life that gets to point people to Jesus.
What a blessing to simply be the daughter of a King, forgiven, free, and redeemed.
What a blessing, friends.
