When More is Smaller

This past Sunday, our pastor preached about Abraham's willingness to sacrifice Isaac's life. He is doing a series on faith, out of the book of Genesis, and it just so happened he was ready for this part on Father's Day. He said he realized it was an awkward topic on a day that celebrates fatherhood, but he asked us to stick with him, and we did.

He talked about what it might have been like for Abraham that day, up on that mountain with the son who fulfilled every hope, dream and promise Abraham had. When God asked him to let go, and Abraham had to know that in being willing to do that, he would be walking away from the very one God said would be his legacy.

At the end of the service, Pastor Steve encouraged us to grab one of the little green tithe envelopes out of the pew and write on it the thing we held dear...the thing we knew God was asking us to release with open hands.

I grabbed the envelope and the pen out of my journal and wrote with no hesitation...my job.

It was easy. After all, I heard that call months ago and have been in the process of obeying for quite some time now.

Pastor Steve invited us to walk to the front of the church with our envelopes and place them on the altar as a symbol of our surrender.

I walked {with a spring in my step} to the front and plunked my envelope on the altar and made my way easily back to my seat, sure of my decision and thankful for the work God had done in my heart over the past several weeks.

And then he invited us to stand, stretch our arms forward toward that pile of surrendered "Isaacs" and pray a prayer of consecration over them.

My arm reached out, and Pastor Steve began to pray.

He said something to this effect: Lord, we offer to you the things that have brought us joy. The things we have devoted our lives to. The things that have been our identity. The things that have been our legacy. The way we've been able to serve You.

And that would be when not just one, but an entire army of tears ugly cried their way right out of my eyes.

Ug.ly. Cry.

It hit me right then. I had easily {and genuinely!} given to the Lord what He had asked of me, but in Pastor Steve's words, I heard for the first time an exact description of what I was giving up.

I'm giving up a daily walk with my dear friends, who have walked with me, trained me, loved me, listened to me, and laughed with me for four years. I'm giving up the job I have embraced and saturated myself in...every moment of every day. I'm giving up the right to identify myself as a producer and radio personality. I'm giving up the platform I have to share...and as Pastor Steve went ON to say in his prayer, I'm accepting that in this surrender, by next week, people might forget all about me.

And that was some hard stuff to swallow.

Ryan put his arm around me and I rolled my eyes to let him know it was just an ugly cry and it would pass.

And later that day, when I prayed about my surrender, I prayed for God to help me remember that He's called me to more. The more seems smaller by a worldly measuring stick, but His more is always...well...just that. More.

So while I allow myself the grief of this end, I continue to celebrate the new beginnings and this unknown more in front of me.

He Who promised is faithful.