I have not learned how to respond to peoples' comments when they hear our story. I am made uncomfortable by
'wow, how awesome', like we are a
super family among dullards.
But you know...what we are doing is
not super for us. For us it's the norm. God planned this for us. He
removed fear, opened doors, provided money. We don't feel special, or super, or heroic. This feels like life. Our life.
There is nothing greater in what we are doing than in the man who works diligently to find homes for the homeless, or the woman who treats cancer patients with radiation, or the carpenter who sows beauty. Or the mom who gets up each morning. Each of these folks can be found in my family. Are we all heroes then?
This post found over at Sarah Bessey's place rings with great truth:
We were so busy celebrating the Evangelical Hero that we forgot heroes come in all walks of life, callings and success ratios.
And, like so many in my generation, I became so tired of doing big things for God.
Tired of feeling like I didn't measure up.
Tired of gauging my obedience to someone else's calling.
Tired of feeling inconsequential.
Tired of defining success by what others see in terms of numbers or income or job title.
Tired of celebrating the preacher and ignoring the foster parents, the hospice workers, the carpenter, the faithful giver-in-secret, the teacher, the prophet-disguised-as-a-mother.
Tired of feeling like it - whatever
it is - all depends on me.
Here is the funny thing I learned when I began to dis-entangle from my Evangelical Hero Complex: I'm pretty sure that
there aren't actually any big things for God. There are only small things being done, over and over, with great love, as Mother Theresa said. With great faith. With great obedience. With great joy or suffering or wrestling or forgiving on a daily completely non-sexy basis. And grace covers all of it and God makes something beautiful out of our dust.
The Kingdom of God starts small, a grain of wheat, a mustard seed, a leaven in the loaf. And it spreads, oh, yes, it grows. But it starts small, even hidden in the secret places, a knitting together of wonder, perhaps. A candle on a lamp stand, a woman searching for a coin, a man in a field with a treasure worth selling everything to possess.
It won't surprise anyone to know that I am no hero. I don't really want to be anymore. (Okay, so sometimes I do. I'll be honest. It'd be nice.) But I do want to take the work of my hands right now, today, whether it's a book I'm writing or a floor I'm sweeping or a phone call I'm making or a meal I'm cooking and I want to hold it all in my hand, in my spirit with a breath of prayer and intention, like we are all a fragile universe needing love in this moment.
And I want to honour and respect and celebrate the work of us all, big, small, noticed, unnoticed, seen, unseen.
He is The God Who Sees and I want to see with His eyes.
Even those people doing the big traditional Hero Things have told me this,
they are just doing one thing at a time and the daily work of it doesn't look that sexy. There is a lot of blood, sweat and small wins coupled with small failures along the way and usually we are only seeing one small part in that moment of their life.
One soul is as valuable as thousands, millions.
One soul is as important as 99, worth leaving everything behind to rescue. If there is one soul in your care, one face in your loving gaze, one hand you are holding, you are holding the world. If anything matters, everything matters and the work today, the love we give and receive and lavish on the seemingly small tasks and choices of our every day all tip the scales of justice and mercy in our world.
