It's Not About Me

Being home for a bit is always nice. Wonderful time spent catching up with family and friends, sharing great food, and enjoying all the conveniences that home offers for just a little while. It’s refreshing! One of the most special times is being at home with our church family. We are blessed to have a sending church that feels like family – that truly loves us and cares for us. Here is where our spiritual roots grew deep, where we learned the value of community, where our hearts learned to be transparent. Here is where we were when God began to pull away the scales from our eyes, to teach us who we are in Him, and where He showed us that our “yes, Lord” would take us to Zambia. Here are those who prayed for us, prepared us, walked with us, sent us.

Last Sunday I was able to be at our home church, to help lead in worship, to give a ministry update, to be honored and held and prayed over by those who send and pray and hold the ropes for us every day. It was a soothing balm to my soul. And I appreciate it deeply. AND I really struggle with being “honored”. I always feel like it’s wrong for me to be standing up in front of a crowd being honored for my “yes, Lord”. There’s nothing special about me. It’s not about me. I know that my church is not really honoring me but glorifying God in me. They know we are still broken, still struggling, still learning, still growing, still reaching. Still and always.

But there are those that have said to me over the years, “I could never do what you have done.” My heart’s cry is yes you could. Because it’s not you. It’s not me. Even the willingness to say yes comes from Him. (That’s another blog for another day) Living overseas doesn’t equal spiritual superiority. I know people all over the world, in all walks of life, who are saying “yes, Lord” everyday, and they are doing things that are much more difficult than working in Africa.

I got passionately stirred up in my heart about all those people I know. That THEY should be standing up being honored before the church. They should be the ones being held and wept over and prayed for. Is the church holding the ropes for these people like they do for us?

Then came Monday and I ran into a friend. A friend who told me the story of a guy he works with - a guy who is brand new to this faith, and he had attended my home church for the first time on Sunday. And as he watched this family love me, rejoice with me, weep and pray over me, God revealed Himself to this guy. And he saw for the first time how God loves His children and how He wants His people to love each other. He saw a community he wanted to be a part of. And God whispered, “See, Kerri, you’re right, it isn’t about you.” Thank you Lord.