Ev. ery. thing.

I have had many conversations recently about this crazy drive, or urgency, inside of me to “give up everything” and follow Jesus.

Yes, I have been following Jesus for a while now.

But there has been this sense in me from the first day I ever got a glimpse of Jesus that I would one day, really give up everything to follow Him, not just 99%.

Of course that begs the question that everyone asks "What is everything?"

And the answer is different for everyone.

I'll try to give a brief, though not extensive, recap of what I'm referring to for myself. For me it means not being very comfortable. Not living in a "very nice" home. Might not be very "safe." Might not be look very cute and put-together.

Not spending so much time with the people that are just like me, are easy to be around, make me feel really good, and already know the Beautiful Life-giver.

Giving up my dreams and desires.

For me it means going to the "least of these."

It means surrounding myself by the ones that society labels as "not worthy." The ones that are rude. Awkward. Mean. Cracked-out. Stupid. Ignorant. Labeled as dirty, slut, whore, greedy, fat, too-late, annoying, etc.

There are lots of ways the Lord can surround me by these people. I have no specific way in mind that this needs to happen. Just ideas for that I'm trying to live out for today.

But my point of this post is to share an answer a question. . .

The reason why I want to "give up" more and more

is not to get more love from Jesus, but to love the way Jesus loved.

To be more like Jesus.

To follow in his foot steps.

To love in the best way I’ve seen done.

Giving up my self, my desires, my possessions, my time, my everything in order to love others.

Just like Jesus did.

Jesus left the perfect, richest, most comfortable home in existence.

To come to mean, rude, poor, ignorant, greedy, arrogant, selfish human beings.

He left a place where he was completely known, at home, and comfortable to come to the low-income, poor earth where people treated him like crap and he felt very unknown and uncomfortable.

He gave up EVERYTHING

to come and show us love

to shine light into the dark, sad, painful parts of our lives

to meet us in our ignorance and selfishness

to sit and be with us

to hold us

to counsel us

to teach us

to love us

So is it so weird for me to want to do the same thing as the Love of my Life and my Reason for Living?

I just want to follow in his footsteps.

He gave us such a perfect example. Why do we look elsewhere and try to come up with different ideas?

And the second part of my answer to a question. . . .

The bottom line is—I think if I was living in a not-so-great, low-income-area apartment or abandoned house, sharing a room with a friend (or poor country), I would

a) be saving money to give away

b) not living in SO much comfort and therefore not be SO different from the people I’m "ministering" to.

We would be more alike because we would have a more similar lifestyle.

We would share discomforts.

I wouldn’t be so stinkin separated from them as I already am in my color, education, friends, family, and up-bringing.

Living a lifestyle where I give up my material possessions doesn’t make me holier or make God love me more.

All it does is allow me to be better yoked to the “least of these.”

To understand them more.

To break down walls.

To have shared experiences.

To be all things to all people.

To BE more with them and like them.

Just like Jesus did for us when he left heaven and came to this not-so-great, low-income earth.

The house-mom and kids I lived with in Uganda could not have proved this idea more to me.

They drove it home in my heart and no one can convince me otherwise.

They were simply in awe that I "gave up everything" to come and live with them.

They know what I could have been having and doing in America.

As I was washing my clothes and dishes by hand, just like they do, she would stand next to me and stare.

She would say, "The Lord will bless you greatly. You are just like him. You gave up everything--your family, your friends, your washing machines, to come here and live like us. You have shown us great love by this."

Just by being there with them.

And living life like them.

Love.

I couldn't speak their language. They already knew Jesus so its not like I was preaching "the gospel" at them. I wasn't giving them material things.

I just gave up what I had

to live like them and with them.

I must now direct your attention to a woman that expresses some things much better than I.

I could write a whole post about this woman and her blog.

Basically, her family of 6 just moved to Haiti about 6 weeks ago. They were the last people you would expect to do something like this. Really. It was really, really hard for her. And it still is.

Here's some things she wrote on her blog that points to yet another reason I feel so strongly about "giving up everything". . . .

“I am well aware that I'm used to living in absolute luxury. In my old life, if I needed something done, I did it or Aaron did it. He can fix anything. He knows how to do everything. If there's a leak under a sink it will be fixed promptly. If I saw a bug, I had our exterminator's number in my cell phone. We were operating in a world that made sense to us. We could drive. We could buy things. We knew our way around and spoke the same language as everyone else around us.

It was very easy to fool myself in America. America made it easy to hide my shortcomings and sin. When you land on this island it is as if Haiti strips your clothes off. Leaves you standing there naked...all your flaws, cellulite and skin exposed. Every pimple. Every large pore. Every mole. Every weird, why-is-that-there hair...visible. You can't ignore any of it or pretend it's not there.

In some ways I hate it. I hate feeling this eat up with sin. I hate seeing myself for who I really am.

And yet...

I know it's good. I know it's needed. I'm sure one day (not today, but one day) I will look back and thank Haiti and the God who brought us here for giving me the opportunity to see the person behind the layers and layers of falsity...the pounds and pounds of Tammy Faye Baker style makeup I found myself wearing as an American resident.”

I don't want to hide.

I want to do whatever I have to do or go wherever I have to go for the Lord to strip me of my crap.

I want him to dig in.

I don't want to half-ass the stripping down process. I don't want to do it slowly.

I do not want to 'languish behind the prison of the picked fence.

Or wallow in the dead-end of the col-de-sac.'

A little more from Mrs. Hendrick. . .

"All that to say...I don't want to be American in the way I think about following Jesus. I want our family to live for God's Kingdom...to seek it first. I want to wake up every morning aware that this earth is not going to last forever. I want us to imitate Jesus in the way He loved and lived. I don't want to run from suffering and danger. If we have to suffer and we have to live in danger to share the gospel, to feed the poor, to love the orphan and give a voice to the voiceless and the oppressed...then bring it I guess. I say that sheepishly, but I truly want to be able to say it boldly.”

And she says the following after talking about how terrifying it is to not have seat belts in Haiti with her 4 young boys. How hard it is for her to be okay with her boys riding in the back of a pick up truck in such a dangerous country with little to no medical structure.. . .

“See what I mean? In the US driving in a car rarely made me think of Jesus and faith and how much I really believe God is who He says He is. Every moment in Haiti is an adventure that causes a crisis of faith at every turn. Sometimes it's exciting to see what I really believe. My actions always prove what's in my heart. Sometimes seeing what you really believe, instead of just hearing yourself say what you believe is hard and difficult and sad.”

I want to know what's inside of me, Lord.

I want to live in reality--not in what I want to be true.

I don't want there to be doubts and questions.

I just want You to have all of me. No questions about it.

And only because-- You gave me all of you.

And for no other reason.