Just thinking, about sacrifice. Since it is the end of Lent, when lots of people try to give up something for 40 days.
I’m often feeling challenged about that, because I do have so many comforts. Then I comfort myself by saying that every time I have to work to cook a meal, or clean the house, etc., it’s a type of “sacrifice” that I do for my little family. Or, it’s important to “sacrifice” to keep myself healthy (exercise, proper nutrition, proper sleep), so that I can do the work that I’m supposed to do and be the help that I need to be. True to a point I suppose. But I know it’s kind of a cop-out.
Of course, there is no doubt that we can never ever, even try, to match God’s sacrifice for us. And he took the punishment so that we wouldn’t have to. Also, you can see how over-thinking this could lead to the kind of extremes that people in the past have done, like mutilating themselves, or putting their bodies through other extreme physical things. I love to point out to myself how the Bible says that God gives us “all things to enjoy”.
But I just want to think about it. What are all the comforts I enjoy? Too many!
- this soft chair I’m sitting on
- the fact that I get to put my feet up every time I sit in it
- the fact that I get to sit here quite often
- a very comfortable bed to sleep in at night (actually two of them, HA!)
- a beautiful home to shelter me (much, much more than is really needed)
- much, much more food than is really needed–and so much to choose from, and so many ways to cook it
- lots of water to keep me clean and hydrated
- peace from the noise of the outside world, rooms to escape to if I need to
- all kinds of recreational activities, hobbies, etc.
These are general, kind of “basic” things, but many of them I would feel like I was dying, if I had to give them up! Some of them I couldn’t even try to. I wonder if I could only sit on hard chairs for 40 days, or sleep on the floor at night? Nah, not going to be that silly!
Lots of missionaries DO give those things up: I heard of one who lives in a hut the size of her bedroom at home, and uses a type of “porta-potty”, etc. I remember thinking, when I was a young kid who was just coming to Christ, that I was afraid that God would ask me to be a missionary in Africa, or something like that. And then I realized that he would not ask me to do that… Now I know that original feeling is quite proper: we should begin by assuming that we ARE to go, until we know that’s not what God has in mind for us particularly. Of course, these days I would not be so afraid of going to Africa, except for physical, health-type of reasons (I’m old!)
Anyway, I have no idea where this is going! :P Nowhere, really. Just wanted to jot down my thoughts.