Losing Pieces of Myself

I’m sitting in an airport en route to another airport, en route to our final destination. As I sit here waiting for boarding time and my kids are watching videos on their devices, I’m thinking about the ones I left behind. There never seems to be enough time. And, when we’re in the US, it seems our time is at a premium. Everyone wants time with us. But, it’s ok, because we want time with everyone, too.

When we embarked on this journey twenty-one years ago with one child, a toddler, it seemed like we were headed for a great adventure. AFRICA! Going with our Bibles in our backpacks and passion for taking His great Love and Truth to those who never heard… Yes, it was somewhat of a sacrifice leaving our parents, siblings, and American conveniences behind, but that’s what calling was all about, right?

Fast forward to 4 years ago… then 2 years ago… when we left that toddler, now grown up, behind, then her younger brother. Wow. Now we’re really into sacrifice. Africa had become home and normal life for us and America just the fun place to visit, love on (and be loved on by) family and friends and tell folks about what God was doing over there. But, all of a sudden it became the place where pieces of me lived.

When my kids were younger, there would be Lego pieces and doll parts all over the house. Having 2 boys and 2 girls means that they all played with toys that are “intended” for either gender. Sometimes pieces of a Star Wars ship would end up in the construction of a house and pieces of the African American Barbie would be mixed with the Caucasian Barbie (or limbs would simply be lost in the same dark hole that missing socks and teaspoons go). Then, there were times when one of my kids would do “surgery” and decide to use the limbs from a Barbie with a missing head to fix the Barbie that still had her head and hair (yes, they were shaved, too). And then the Barbie was good as new. As I’ve been reflecting on this layover, I realized that I kind of think of myself like one of those “good-as-new” Barbies.

Even though I have felt like I was losing pieces of myself, as the dust of the shock of grief settled into my heart in the day-to-day new normal, I looked to my Lord who called me to comfort me, to heal me, then to use me for His purposes. I had to relinquish control and surrender my will where my kids were concerned, abandon myself to Him without fear, knowing that His love was greater than my grief. And, though I still have that grief (there are good days and bad days… and right now, it’s fresh!), knowing that He loves me and identifying with His suffering, has helped me to know Him in a deeper way. Though I feel like I’ve lost pieces of myself at times, looking to Him in the midst of the grief, obeying Him when it’s really hard, I gain more of Him. I get a small taste of what Paul meant when He said, “I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him from the dead. I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death, so that one way or another I will experience the resurrection from the dead!” Philippians 3:10-11NLT

Every tiny taste I get of Christ’s suffering brings me closer to Him. I remember sitting in a guesthouse in Ghana in late 2002, having it out in prayer with God while my family was still sleeping. We had lost a household filled with belongings and memories, as well as fruitful ministry among a people group that we loved dearly because war ripped our beloved country apart. I told God that I was fine with losing all that stuff, but I was deeply grieving for our people, especially our Ivorian brothers and sisters in Christ. What would happen to them, God?! After calming down, I found myself thanking Him for saving our family and bringing us to this place, with these few suitcases. I was willing to sacrifice all that for Him, but I held tightly to my kids.

A couple of years later in Burkina Faso, then later, Mali, each time, holding tightly to my child’s hand as it seemed he was close to death. I bargained with God through my tears that I had sacrificed so much, He couldn’t take my child from me, too. While we were in Mali, my Dad was in a serious accident and I thought I was going to lose him, too. Each time, God assured me that He had them, and me, in His hands, and to trust Him. Thankfully, my kids survived and so did my Dad. Then, the loss came in a different way. My kids grew up and I had to leave them and go back to where He called me to obedience, thousands of miles away.

Now I’m doing it again, and because of my obedience, pressing on through pain, believe it or not, He blesses me. That “peace that passes understanding” and “abundant joy” is that much sweeter. It’s not dependent on my circumstances, which tend to take me on a roller coaster of emotions. No, it’s wholly dependent on Him, who truly is the “author and finisher of” my faith. He started it, and He’s faithful to complete it.

Jesus calls His disciples to be obedient and obedience to a God who has suffered like Christ has means suffering… it means loss and grief and pain. But, it also means enduring peace, perseverance, assurance and JOY. Best of all, it means sanctification that takes away all the unnecessary pieces (things like stubbornness, disobedience, the desire to have control) and replaces them with ones that look more like Him. And, becoming like Him is what I want to be. It’s what I’m meant to be. He takes this broken clay pot and makes me something glorious. The pieces of myself that I’ve lost are for my gain.

God hasn’t called me to give up my kids, just what I thought was control of them. He asked me, just like in every other area of my life, to trust what I treasure into His hands.

Jesus said to a crowd of people in Luke 9: “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross daily, and follow me.If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it…” (NLT) What I think is losing, is really saving.

God, this sure isn’t easy. Sometimes I don’t like what you’re doing, but I trust you. Thank you for fashioning me to be more like you through all of it.