Sacrifice {Uncivilized}.
Today my husband is teaching on the book of Leviticus. Last night after dinner he had me rummaging around for old stuffed animals his students could use in a mock Levitical sacrifice role-playing exercise.
I know...it sounds morbid doesn't it? I may have raised an eyebrow myself, because he quickly explained how the exercise is designed to give students a deeper understanding of the gravity of and need for Old Testament sacrifices. The more I thought about it, the more I understood his motivation...I mean, how often do we just skim over long descriptions of the sacrifices God asked His people to make in atoning for sins? Come to think of it, how often do we even intentionally open our Bible to the book of Leviticus in the first place?
Maybe we need to take a closer look at sacrifice. What if in our distaste for the gore of it all, we have made it something it isn't? Something more palatable, less bloody, something more civilized, less barbaric. Something more tame and less...poignant perhaps?
And what if this civilization of sacrifice has robbed from us a better understanding of our need for it in the first place? How can I feel the weight of God's sacrifice in sending His one and only Son to die in my place if I have a lesser knowledge of what it actually cost Him? How can I appreciate the glory of the new covenant if I don't fully know the old covenant it was intended to replace?
I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Sacrifice.
When our fourth child was born just two months ago, my husband and I discussed possible names in our hospital room on the postpartum unit. We have named all our children after family members. To me, this is a way to honor the rich heritage of faith passed on to us through 3 and 4 generations of Jesus followers. So when my husband suggested the name Pearl (my great-grandmother's name), we thought it might be a good fit for our daughter's middle name. That first night in the hospital, as I sat alone in the near dark, holding my new baby girl and praying for who and what she would become I was even more convinced that her middle name should be Pearl. After all, the name means precious and well...was she ever! At that moment I felt the Lord whisper to me, "A pearl of great price." I wondered whether He was speaking of the money she had cost us in prenatal appointments out of country, away from fully paid healthcare. Or the bill that would soon arrive from the hotel where she was unintentionally born(yikes!). Although I'll admit God has a sense of humor like that...my mind eventually went to the book of Matthew chapter 13, so I pulled my Bible from the bedside and flipped to the parable of "The Pearl of Great Price."
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a pearl merchant on the lookout for choice pearls. When he discovered a pearl of great value, he sold everything he owned and bought it." verses 45-46
Instantly the word flashed like rapid fire through the synapses of my brain...sacrifice. In the eyes of the merchant, that pearl was worthy of sacrificing all that was his. It reminded me of words the Lord had spoken to me early in my pregnancy about dying to self through this act of becoming a mother to one more. That through it all I would learn more of what it meant to truly sacrifice self. At the time I was willing...or so I thought. Putting to death my flesh and thinking of another before myself seemed such a noble effort.
The next morning as I carefully printed the name Pearl in the tiny blanks of the birth registry form my hand trembled a bit. This child was going to teach me about self-sacrifice? What did that even mean? Could I face the possibilities?
Nine weeks later I have barely uncovered a fraction of what it means to truly sacrifice one's self for the sake of another, but let me tell you...lately the practicalities of all I am laying down on a daily basis make my head spin. The business of destroying self is not a pretty one. I feel like I might be on the cusp of understanding why Merriam Webster defines sacrifice as "something given up or lost." The list of things fitting that bill is long indeed: sleep for one, my writing, time for myself, sleep, long showers, my waistline, further endeavors in the world of curriculum development, the use of both hands at once, did I mention sleep? It's all so ugly. Sometimes literally.
Don't you think being a Mom could possibly be defined as one of the greatest self-sacrifices one could ever make? If there's anyone out there who must daily put everyone else first...regardless of how much older, taller, or wiser than them she may or may not be...it's a Mom. I think that as the years go by I will look back on this time and laugh at how little I knew of self-sacrifice. I'm not naive enough to think that the sacrifice will get easier in time. No. The more I think on it, the more I know without a doubt that this offering asked of me will surely get more wild, bloody and barbaric as my children grow. Can I face those possibilities?
I really have no choice do I? In becoming a mother, we forfeit something highly valued (our flesh) for the sake of one (or four in my case) considered to have a greater value or claim.*
And somehow I know peace. Because as sure as I know anything, I know that my God knows intimately of sacrifice. You and I were the pearl that He declared worthy of sacrificing His one and only Son to possess. And that God, my El-Shaddai, my All-Sufficient One , will give to me, out of His own abundance, the ability to lay down my flesh day by God-given day. Self-sacrifice is a fierce battle. It will get ugly and at times uncivilized. It's bloody and hard and exhausting. I'm liable to get dirty and there may even be screaming at times.
But it is a noble effort. Because as always...it's about less of me and more. of. Him.
And for that, I'm willing to get a little dirty.
*from Merriam Webster. "She's" a know-it-all.
I know...it sounds morbid doesn't it? I may have raised an eyebrow myself, because he quickly explained how the exercise is designed to give students a deeper understanding of the gravity of and need for Old Testament sacrifices. The more I thought about it, the more I understood his motivation...I mean, how often do we just skim over long descriptions of the sacrifices God asked His people to make in atoning for sins? Come to think of it, how often do we even intentionally open our Bible to the book of Leviticus in the first place?
Maybe we need to take a closer look at sacrifice. What if in our distaste for the gore of it all, we have made it something it isn't? Something more palatable, less bloody, something more civilized, less barbaric. Something more tame and less...poignant perhaps?
And what if this civilization of sacrifice has robbed from us a better understanding of our need for it in the first place? How can I feel the weight of God's sacrifice in sending His one and only Son to die in my place if I have a lesser knowledge of what it actually cost Him? How can I appreciate the glory of the new covenant if I don't fully know the old covenant it was intended to replace?
I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Sacrifice.
When our fourth child was born just two months ago, my husband and I discussed possible names in our hospital room on the postpartum unit. We have named all our children after family members. To me, this is a way to honor the rich heritage of faith passed on to us through 3 and 4 generations of Jesus followers. So when my husband suggested the name Pearl (my great-grandmother's name), we thought it might be a good fit for our daughter's middle name. That first night in the hospital, as I sat alone in the near dark, holding my new baby girl and praying for who and what she would become I was even more convinced that her middle name should be Pearl. After all, the name means precious and well...was she ever! At that moment I felt the Lord whisper to me, "A pearl of great price." I wondered whether He was speaking of the money she had cost us in prenatal appointments out of country, away from fully paid healthcare. Or the bill that would soon arrive from the hotel where she was unintentionally born(yikes!). Although I'll admit God has a sense of humor like that...my mind eventually went to the book of Matthew chapter 13, so I pulled my Bible from the bedside and flipped to the parable of "The Pearl of Great Price."
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a pearl merchant on the lookout for choice pearls. When he discovered a pearl of great value, he sold everything he owned and bought it." verses 45-46
Instantly the word flashed like rapid fire through the synapses of my brain...sacrifice. In the eyes of the merchant, that pearl was worthy of sacrificing all that was his. It reminded me of words the Lord had spoken to me early in my pregnancy about dying to self through this act of becoming a mother to one more. That through it all I would learn more of what it meant to truly sacrifice self. At the time I was willing...or so I thought. Putting to death my flesh and thinking of another before myself seemed such a noble effort.
The next morning as I carefully printed the name Pearl in the tiny blanks of the birth registry form my hand trembled a bit. This child was going to teach me about self-sacrifice? What did that even mean? Could I face the possibilities?
Nine weeks later I have barely uncovered a fraction of what it means to truly sacrifice one's self for the sake of another, but let me tell you...lately the practicalities of all I am laying down on a daily basis make my head spin. The business of destroying self is not a pretty one. I feel like I might be on the cusp of understanding why Merriam Webster defines sacrifice as "something given up or lost." The list of things fitting that bill is long indeed: sleep for one, my writing, time for myself, sleep, long showers, my waistline, further endeavors in the world of curriculum development, the use of both hands at once, did I mention sleep? It's all so ugly. Sometimes literally.
Don't you think being a Mom could possibly be defined as one of the greatest self-sacrifices one could ever make? If there's anyone out there who must daily put everyone else first...regardless of how much older, taller, or wiser than them she may or may not be...it's a Mom. I think that as the years go by I will look back on this time and laugh at how little I knew of self-sacrifice. I'm not naive enough to think that the sacrifice will get easier in time. No. The more I think on it, the more I know without a doubt that this offering asked of me will surely get more wild, bloody and barbaric as my children grow. Can I face those possibilities?
I really have no choice do I? In becoming a mother, we forfeit something highly valued (our flesh) for the sake of one (or four in my case) considered to have a greater value or claim.*
And somehow I know peace. Because as sure as I know anything, I know that my God knows intimately of sacrifice. You and I were the pearl that He declared worthy of sacrificing His one and only Son to possess. And that God, my El-Shaddai, my All-Sufficient One , will give to me, out of His own abundance, the ability to lay down my flesh day by God-given day. Self-sacrifice is a fierce battle. It will get ugly and at times uncivilized. It's bloody and hard and exhausting. I'm liable to get dirty and there may even be screaming at times.
But it is a noble effort. Because as always...it's about less of me and more. of. Him.
And for that, I'm willing to get a little dirty.
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