Sacrificial Living

There I was in the midst of another free time. Campers gearing up for water sports or the pool. “I don’t want to sit at the pool again,” I thought. “It’s too cold to go in the pool,” I thought. As I stood in the sun, watching the CIAs and the campers get ready to walk, I remembered that I wasn’t there for myself. I was there for others. I was there for Jesus' glory and the campers' fun, and the CIAs' encouragement and help. "Where am I needed?" I asked as I changed my tune as I had done countless times before.

During my week at Camp Barnabas on the Lake, I found when I was faced with my own desires I almost instantly found myself redirecting towards others’ needs. Even in my free time I was thinking about what I could do to support the CIAs (Christian In Action, the teens and adults who were one-on-one with the campers), or trying to find enough service to post to our church’s Facebook or Twitter to update the church body and parents about how our trip was going.

Why can’t I do this at home? Why can’t I do this in my church body?

America has a prevalent, “Take care of #1” mentality that comes before all other concerns. I am afraid I am guilty of it. Rather than ask for help or care, I feel like it's best to just take care of myself first. However, I believe I am called to something more. A life lived sacrificially. As I was thrown into a life lived fully for others for a full five days, I discovered something.

Living life sacrificially takes buckets of trust.

You have to trust your needs will be cared for as you put others’ needs ahead of your own. You have to trust that you will be filled as you pour yourself out for those around you. You have to trust you will find rest in the midst of the busy life of looking and serving and caring. You have to trust God's strength to keep you moving. You have to trust God’s greater plan. #thelastshallbefirst But I discovered something else.

Sacrificial living is beautiful.

It's helping a busy mom with her groceries; it's asking the clerk at the store how their day is going and actually hearing their response. It's writing a note of encouragement for your neighbor, or offering to walk someone's dog. It's taking the kids for a friend so she can get some things done. It's engaging in conversation with your seat mate on the bus or train, recognizing the humanity that is around you. Start small. Sacrifice a little comfort and say hello to the stranger in line behind you. Look them in the eye and smile. It's a beautiful thing.

This post is a part of a One Word 365 community, Trusting Tuesdays! Have your own One Word? Link up to your most recent post every third Tuesday of the month!

I'm a bit Nosey

I would like you all to meet Nosey.

Isn't she beautiful? This is an artist's depiction of me at the age of 20. Notice the whisper thin eyebrows and bedazzled teeth. Now you may have noticed this is a caricature of yours truly, not a true depiction; I share this with you for a reason. At the age of 20, I thought my nose really was that big - okay not truly, but I did not find that he had exaggerated it as a feature erroneously, as my best friend thought. I had a BIG nose, and I knew it.

Over the years my nose has shrunk, not because of some spell or some rubbing solution, but because I stopped saying it was overly large and over time I stop noticing it to be overly large. Now I find my nose to be in perfect proportion to the rest of my face.

I find this to be an interesting lesson in perspectives - we can see flaws in ourselves that are far from such. I also find it a good reminder not to speak aloud false beliefs about ourselves, as eventually they become truths in our minds and hearts, and some of them aren't so innocent as one thinking one's nose to be a bit large.