Like the Birds

A few weekends ago, I sat in the theater with a few friends watching the latest Harry Potter movie.

The opening scene showed a family of friends gathered together for one purpose: to protect Harry.  Out of love, honor, and duty, they were risking their lives to protect their only hope in conquering evil.  It may appear unrelated, but seeing so many willing to sacrifice themselves for Harry seemed like a realistic comparison to our relationship with God.

We give ourselves to Him; we love Him, we protect Him, some do sacrifice their lives for Him.  We should all be so in love with God that dying for Him should be easy, but honestly, I struggle.  God knows this about me.

So over the last two months He has constantly been presenting to me the theme of sacrifice.  The occurrences have been countless!  First, I received a free book in the mail on martyrs from Crosswalk.  I failed in acknowledging its message, leaving it to gather dust.  No care or concern did I have for martyrs then.  So God pressed on.

It was the weekend at the retreat, He brought into my life a personal story of sacrifice.  Finally, I was enticed by what it meant to live selflessly, to die selflessly, to surrender for God.

Mario, the young pastor who led worship on the retreat, spoke of his family’s history.  By candle light, the tears in his eyes were obvious as he recollected the story of the people he knew as a child.  His parents housed missionaries, and almost memorable family was that of the Birds.

The day came while they were in another country. Guerillas ordered Mr. Bird to cease his teaching.  With Mr. Bird’s refusal, the guerillas marched the family outside.  As they lined up the father, mother, and two children, they told Mr. Bird the cost of his continued teaching would be the lives of his family.

They surrendered their lives that day to follow God.  That story reached to the selfish corners of my heart and begged for deeper consideration.

It was weeks later that I visited a friend at the hospital.  As our visit came to the end, as I passed the corridor to leave, there, to my left, was a Blessing Jar.  Gingerly, I plucked a paper square from the glass.  I couldn’t have imagined the magnitude of the message:

Many months have passed with God repeating this message of sacrifice.  In those months preceding this very moment, God was diligently trying to prepare my mind for the coming sacrifice He knew I’d be facing.  As the author of my life, He saw how I would hurt.  He has been caressing my heart every day to both shield it from old pain and open it to new love—His love.  He has been preparing my mind, hardening my heart, and filling the empty spots inside of me.

In a book by Lysa TerKeurst, she writes:

God can use the empty places in your life to draw your heart to Him.  Recognize each sad moment as a call to draw near to the Lord.  I thank Him for the empty places, for they remind me that only He has the ability to fill me completely.

God finds us in emptiness.  When we are empty, it is His love that holds us—the only thing that holds us.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.  Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you.  You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart (Jeremiah 29:11-13).

God, it is my prayer now that You help me to sacrifice to You.  As a friend says, please let me die to myself.  Let me die daily, hourly, minute by minute, and by the second.  Replace my needs with Your will, and let me follow You.  Let me love You so deeply and let me refuse to be selfish.  Please keep showing me, because I am ready to consciously acknowledge Your hand in my life.  I thank You for the empty places, thank You for Your love.