Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

Compassion

Will We Merely Satisfy … or Will We Sacrifice?

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{A quick note: Jillie won the random drawing of Ally Vesterfelt’s new book Packing Light! Jillie, please send me your mailing address!}

I’m reading Francis Chan again. Man, that Francis Chan. I love him, but I kind of don’t love him, too, you know? Because Francis Chan always gets me good where it hurts.

Chapter Four in Crazy Love is called “Profile of the Lukewarm,” and I knew when I saw that title, it was going to be bad. Real bad. I knew when Francis asked me, “Would you describe yourself as totally in love with Jesus Christ? Or do the words halfhearted, lukewarm and partially committed fit better?”  – I knew, it was going to get ugly. And I knew, when Francis asked me to take the lukewarm test, that I was going to fail.

So here’s the long and the short of it. Francis lists 16 descriptors of what he calls “the lukewarm people” —

The lukewarm people give money to charity and to the church…as long as it doesn’t impinge on their standard of living.

The lukewarm people are moved by stories about people who do radical things for Christ, yet they do not act. They assume such action is for “extreme” Christians, not average ones. 

The lukewarm people will serve God and others, but there are limits to how far they will go and how much time, money and energy they are willing to give.

The lukewarm people ask, “How much do I have to give?” rather than, “How much can I give?” 

I know. Does it make you cringe? If you’re like me, you’re probably mad at Francis Chan for going there. I get all defensive, like Who does he think he is, Mr. Fancy Pants Francis Chan, making those kind of statements? I get mad, because I know he’s right.

Truth be told, of the 16 lukewarm descriptors, I hit 15 dead-on.

I am lukewarm. More like barely warm. Probably more like tundra.

When I looked hard at some of those descriptions, I saw a number of themes, but one in particular stood out: sacrifice.

I don’t sacrifice. I merely satisfy the bare minimum requirements of what I think defines a good Christian.

Man that hurts. But I know it’s true. When it comes to giving my time, my resources and my money, I aim for good-enough — enough to reassure myself that I am giving, that I am serving, that I am doing my Christian duty. Enough to convince myself that I am living as Jesus taught. Loving my neighbor. Caring for the poor. Supporting the orphan and the widow.

Enough to consider myself good-enough.

But as Francis Chan loves to point out, good-enough isn’t Jesus’ way, and it’s not what expects from us either.

“Take up your cross and follow me” is not a lukewarm command.

“Sell everything and give to the poor” is not a lukewarm command.

“Do not merely listen to the word…do what it says” is not a lukewarm command.

Jesus demands not merely satisfying, not halfway, good-enough, almost-there.

Jesus demands sacrifice. Good-enough is not enough.

So September is Blogger Month at Compassion International. Each week we blog on a particular topic — my topic this week was “sacrifice” — with the goal of inspiring and encouraging our readers to sponsor a child in need through Compassion. I’m not usually Preacher Miss Preachy around here, but Francis Chan got me fired up about sacrifice this week, and I do hope it inspires you to take that step, to make that sacrifice in order to love one of God’s children who so desperately needs help. If you’ve been feeling a bit lukewarm, like maybe you’ve been living a good-enough kind of faith, maybe this is your nudge. Please consider sponsoring a Compassion child today.

Memo from a Mosquito

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I’ve noticed it’s been pretty rainy in Nebraska. That’s good. I like rain. Rain makes puddles and puddles are perfect for my larvae. I’m planning a big crop of larvae this year in Nebraska. I’m eager to annoy the heck out of you Cornhuskers.

In the meantime, though, I’m spending my time overseas where it’s warm and humid and there are plenty of supple young bodies ripe for the feast.

I know, I know, please don’t mention the malaria. Everyone always blames mosquitos for malaria, and it’s true, we are major carriers of the disease. But don’t complain to me about it when YOU can do something. All it takes is a simple net, you know, and I can’t get at my victims as easily. But I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You have the power to curtail my options, big-time. I shouldn’t even breathe a word of this.

: :

Okay, Michelle here. I squashed the mosquito. But I wanted to let you know that tomorrow is World Malaria Day, and Compassion International is making a worldwide effort to raise awareness about this preventable and treatable disease.

The fact is, every 30 seconds someone dies from malaria – and most of these victims are under the age of five.

By the time you finish reading this, malaria will have taken the lives of two more kids. More than 665,000 children will die this year from this preventable disease.

You read that right: preventable. A simple mosquito net is all it takes to dramatically reduce the spread of malaria in Africa, Asia and South America.

Ten dollars.

One net.

Save a life.

Join me? Make a donation to Compassion’s Malaria Prevention Campaign. 

Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: A Day to Save a Life

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“Mommy…” I hear the warning tone of his voice across the sunroom. “It’s Sunday, you know…you’re not supposed to be on the computer on the Sabbath day, right?” It’s true. It’s Sunday, and one of my Sabbath “rules” is no technology. And there I am, sitting at my desk in the corner of the sunroom with my laptop open as Noah walks up behind me.

I’m writing a letter to Pedro, the Bolivian boy we sponsor through Compassion. I haven’t written to him since August, but the sermon I just heard in church, about putting faith into action, has prompted me to come home, sit down at my desk and write the letter I’ve been procrastinating for months.

Truth be told, writing to the children we sponsor isn’t my favorite activity. Often it feels like a chore, mostly because I don’t know what to say. What do I have in common with a five-year-old boy I’ve never met, a boy who speaks Spanish and lives in dire poverty? I’m not even sure I could pinpoint Bolivia on a map.

So yes, technically Noah is right. I am breaking my own Sabbath rules. Not only am I on my computer, I’m also doing what I would consider a task, a chore. I am working.

Yet like I explained to Noah, I also know it’s the right thing to do. I care about Pedro. I pray for him, worry about him, think about his family. His picture sits on my desk, right above my computer, so I can look at his huge brown eyes every day. So while writing to Pedro is a chore in some ways, it’s also a good deed, an act of worship, an activity that honors God and feeds my love and compassion for this boy I’ve never met.

“I have a question for you,” Jesus said to the Pharisees, who accused him of breaking the Sabbath by healing a man’s deformed hand. “Does the law permit good deeds on the Sabbath, or is it a day for doing evil? Is this a day to save a life or destroy it?” (Luke 6:9)

Sometimes, like the Pharisees, we miss seeing the forest through the trees when we focus too closely on the legalistic side of Sabbath and other spiritual practices. Those of us who are rule-followers, like me, are especially guilty of this. I’ve always been a “good girl.” I’ve always followed the rules. I like rules. They keep me honest and on track. But they can also keep me from seeing and understanding the big picture.

I’m glad I broke the Sabbath last Sunday. Because even though it was work, it was good work. And that letter to Pedro? In some small way, it may help save his life.

Has rule-following ever inhibited you from seeing the big picture in your faith?

With Jen:

 And Laura:

And with Jen at Rich Faith Rising:

USE this for BLOG

 

Welcome to the “Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday” community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word.

If you’re here for the first time, click here for more information. Please include the Hear It, Use It button (grab the code below) or a link in your post, so your readers know where to find the community if they want to join in — thank you!

Please also try to visit and leave some friendly encouragement in the comment box of at least one other Hear It, Use It participant. And if you want to tweet about the community, please use the #HearItUseIt hashtag.

Thank you — I am so grateful that you are here!

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The Best and the Worst

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I was recently asked to write a story in 200 words or less describing the best or the worst thing that happened to me that day. This is what I wrote – in some ways, it was both the best and the worst, all wrapped into one experience. {and yes, it’s less than 200 words – no small feat for me!}

“Mommy, look at these!” he says, holding out the package of unblemished mushrooms for me to admire. Such pristine vegetables are a rarity amid the withered lettuce, brown bananas and squishy cucumbers piled onto the table — food that’s past its prime, expired, rejected by those who have a choice.

“I’ll take those, young man.” Noah turns toward the man with the weathered, flushed face. The cuffs of his jeans are ragged, and he leans heavily on a cane, but his smile is kind. “They’re really fresh,” Noah says, gently placing the small container in the cart.

“Why do the people only get the yucky, wilty food?” Rowan asks as we drive home from the distribution center. “Well,” I pause. “Well, because that’s the food nobody else wants. People who have enough money buy the best vegetables in the store, so the ones we gave out tonight are the leftovers,” I answer.

Rowan is silent for a minute, staring into the darkness. “Do we get to buy the best?” he asks, leaning forward, the seat belt straining across his chest. “Yes, honey,” I answer, glancing at him in the rear view mirror. “We get to buy the best.”

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My Compassion blogger assignment this month is to write about what giving Biblically looks like in today’s culture. This story is an interesting answer to that question. On one hand, I am grateful to the Lincoln grocery stores for donating such huge quantities of food to our city’s poor. On the other hand, Rowan’s question is a perceptive and difficult one: why do poor people only get the leftovers that no one else wants? Why don’t we skim off the top of our resources to care for the least of these, instead of from the bottom, after every one of our own myriad needs is met?

Thanks to my seven-year-old, I’m struggling with the answers to those questions myself. In the meantime, though, I want to offer you a small but meaningful way you can positively impact a person who is desperately in need this season. Purchase a gift from a wide range of choices in Compassion’s Holiday Gift Catalog — a meal, medicine, seeds, a goat — and make a very real difference today. 

Thank you!!

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Because 223 Days Seems Like a Really Long Time to Wait

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Letters from Pedro and his sister


Dear God,

Remember when I laid awake the other night praying for Noah? I was worried about him, and I prayed for your help.

I thought about that this morning as I clicked through a dozen pictures of kids in need of sponsorships on the Compassion site. I stopped for a long time on the picture of one boy, Niyomugisha. He was wearing a yellow shirt, yellow shorts and sandals, and he stood on a patch of dirt near a wooden shack. The description said he lives in Rwanda and is one of six kids.
It also said he’s been waiting for a sponsor for 223 days.

223 days.

That seems like an awful long time to wait for a breath of hope.

I wonder what those 223 days have felt like for Niyomugisha’s mother. I wonder if she lays awake at night, praying that You will bring a sponsor for her child. Praying for hope. I wonder what she worries about. How to get enough food for her six kids? Where to find medicine for her sick little ones? How her husband will find work?

It makes my worries about my kids seem so silly. Our doctor is a phone call away. Medicine and food are less than a mile up the road – three minutes by car. I worry about problems that can be solved.
But Niyomugisha’s mother…does she worry about losing hope?

This morning as I looked at his picture on my computer screen, I prayed for Niyomugisha and his mother – that they will remain faithful and hopeful in You.

And today I ask that you bring Niyomugisha a sponsor. May this day be the end of his long wait.

Amen.
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Our assignment from Compassion for this week was to write a letter to God and publish it online, which, I admit, felt slightly awkward. 
The good news, though, is that as of Monday, 837 sponsorships have been made — isn’t that amazing?! So…three weeks remaining for Compassion Blogger Month and 2,271 sponsorships to go — I really do think we can do this thing!
Will you click over to the Compassion sponsor page, pick one child and pray for him or her?  
And if the Spirit so moves you, please consider sponsoring Niyomugisha or another child today. Thank you!!!


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