Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." Matthew 10:37-39
To be a winner, you have to lose.
You have to lose a lot.
In my decision to leave my home in Oregon and move to Boise to help start a church, I have to lose. Lose my comfort, lose my jobs, lose seeing my family everyday and lose the constant laughter I have with my best friends.
Just minutes ago, my mom came in the office sobbing because she can't stand the thought of losing my constant company or the silly moments we share everyday, like singing Christmas songs in our English accents in the middle of June. Her tears were contagious. I'll miss those things too.
At the beginning of my decision, it was exciting. I prepared the best I could for what was ahead and was confident I could handle it.
I was a fool to think that this would be easy.
I can feel God's strong tug. The earth beneath me is tearing. The edges of my roots are ripping and now I can feel the earth shift as I am pulled away. It hurts like hell. When the last tug comes I know I'll leave a hole in the earth where I once was. And just like any plant, little remnants of the roots will still be clinging to the ground. Parts of me will always stay with my loved ones.
It's hard to surrender to God's tugging when I'm so comfortable and safe where I am at. Yet I know a life with God is not safe. It is not comfortable. There is constant change. Constant risk. Constant surrender.
So I'm trading my roots for wings. After uprooting from Oregon, my dreams will take flight in Boise. I won't be dependant on the earth to hold me to the ground. I'll be independant, confident in my ability to take flight.
In all my loss, in all my surrender, I know I'll find the life I've dreamt about. Through Christ, I'll be a winner.
To be a winner, you have to lose.
You have to lose a lot.
In my decision to leave my home in Oregon and move to Boise to help start a church, I have to lose. Lose my comfort, lose my jobs, lose seeing my family everyday and lose the constant laughter I have with my best friends.
Just minutes ago, my mom came in the office sobbing because she can't stand the thought of losing my constant company or the silly moments we share everyday, like singing Christmas songs in our English accents in the middle of June. Her tears were contagious. I'll miss those things too.
At the beginning of my decision, it was exciting. I prepared the best I could for what was ahead and was confident I could handle it.
I was a fool to think that this would be easy.
I can feel God's strong tug. The earth beneath me is tearing. The edges of my roots are ripping and now I can feel the earth shift as I am pulled away. It hurts like hell. When the last tug comes I know I'll leave a hole in the earth where I once was. And just like any plant, little remnants of the roots will still be clinging to the ground. Parts of me will always stay with my loved ones.
It's hard to surrender to God's tugging when I'm so comfortable and safe where I am at. Yet I know a life with God is not safe. It is not comfortable. There is constant change. Constant risk. Constant surrender.
So I'm trading my roots for wings. After uprooting from Oregon, my dreams will take flight in Boise. I won't be dependant on the earth to hold me to the ground. I'll be independant, confident in my ability to take flight.
In all my loss, in all my surrender, I know I'll find the life I've dreamt about. Through Christ, I'll be a winner.