For the past week I've been in Seattle, enjoying the cooler weather, the change of scenery, and the amazing Christian Veterinary Mission staff. It's been a really fun time of sharing about Bolivia and learning about the CVM Regional Representative position I'll be transitioning to in the future; making lots of new friends, and reconnecting with old ones I haven't seen in years.
Every year CVM focuses on a theme passage. This year's idea is "Beyond Knowledge, Knowing Him," from Philippians 3.
Studying to share a devotional on this scripture lead me to really ruminate on what are the credentials and the rubbish that I let get between Jesus and myself. Here's The Message version:
"We couldn't carry this off by our own efforts, and we know it—even though we can list what many might think are impressive credentials....
The very credentials these people are waving around as something special, I'm tearing up and throwing out with the trash—along with everything else I used to take credit for. And why? Because of Christ. Yes, all the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung. I've dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him. I didn't want some petty, inferior brand of righteousness that comes from keeping a list of rules when I could get the robust kind that comes from trusting Christ—God's righteousness. I gave up all that inferior stuff so I could know Christ personally, experience his resurrection power, be a partner in his suffering, and go all the way with him to death itself."
To Paul, the credentials he'd been staking it all on were his birth into the right nation and the right family, his behavior, his zeal for religion and its rules. He had no more control over where and when he came into the world than any of us, but I'm only half-joking when I brag that I was born on the day UofL won the national championship in basketball, seriously, it makes me a way better fan. I imagine you don't use your circumcision on the 8th day as an edge up at dinner parties, but I can't deny that I like to be called a veterinarian, and I don't hate the label "missionary". How many other titles or accomplishments do we take pride in, what statuses do we let define us instead of Christ? When I dug deep I discovered my identity as a tennis player in the past, my semi-radical decision to adopt as a single person in another country, and my really awesome fiancé all gave my ego a boost, even made me feel like a better Christian. But the only thing that makes me a Christian at all is Jesus' grace.
Even more than our degree, our profession, or our level of accomplishment, do we find our security in our things? When I was sharing about Paul's thoughts on skybalon (or dog dung) I borrowed the idea to make it visual. After bringing up the image of a child who can't fit anything else in his hands if they're already full of stuff, I brought in a garbage can and started throwing things out to figuratively empty my arms to make room for more of Christ. It was easy to dump in my new work laptop with its overwhelmingly complex database, but a bit harder to put in my personal MacBook Pro. My veterinary license and passport were symbolic of who I am in the flesh. Dropping in my insurance card wasn't too stressful, but letting go of my picture with Angie and Jon stung a little. And you should have seen the face of the only other female in the room when she heard my engagement ring crash to the bottom of the bin!
But even more personal and timely was thinking about someone I wouldn't have considered "rubbish", or even a distraction for me, until God took her away from me. Ruby, the one who possibly loves me most unconditionally in the world, my sweet sweet puppy, ran away that very day. At 4 o'clock in the morning when I found out she'd run off after a rabbit and never returned, I didn't think much of it, but by 4 o'clock in the afternoon I realized how important she was to me and how possible it was she'd be stolen or hit by a car. And while I prepared to talk about the rubbish we carry with us Matthew 9 came to mind, "Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter (or dog) more than me is not worthy of me." So, I decided there was nothing to do but trust the Lord and refocus on the one thing that was truly important; knowing Christ. And minutes after finishing a discussion of the credentials and belongings the vets and staff around me subconsciously held tightly, God gave Ruby back to us!
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During all of this, Angie was safe and blissfully clueless, visiting the beach for her first time ever with the family.
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1 comment:
Good lesson to learn, thanks for sharing! I'll have to stop and think what should go in my trash can.
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