The proverbial woodshed is where I’ve spent my morning. It began as I read II Samuel 24. David had sinned against the Lord in numbering the people. Due to his sin 70,000 men died in a pestilence that was to have lasted three days, but was shortened, by God’s mercy. As is David’s character, he repented of his sin, and asked the Lord to put the punishment on him and his father’s house for his great sin. David then is told to offer a burnt sacrifice. As he goes to gather the threshing floor and the materials necessary for the sacrifice, a wealthy man by the name of Araunah desires to give David what he needed. What would most of us have said at that moment? “Woo hoo! This is my lucky day!” Then the fifty shekels of silver would have been slipped back into our pocket to use for something else (probably self). But David did not do that. He told Araunah, “I will not offer to God that which costs me nothing.” Woodshed, here I come.
Oh that my heart would be willing to only offer to the Lord that which costs me something. Too often I serve when it’s convenient for me, when it fits into my planned time schedule, and when it doesn’t take me out of my comfort zone. That doesn’t sound much like sacrifice. When I look to Calvary and see that Christ’s sacrifice for my sin cost Him His life, I am rebuked at my puny gift that has cost me nothing.
One of my favorite stories of missionaries is that of David Livingstone (pictured above). He was born in Scotland in 1813. He trusted Christ as his Savior and then desired to “show his attachment to the Lord” by giving his life in service on the mission field. He left for Africa when he was 27. He was accompanied on part of his journey by his father, whom he never saw again after that day. Speaking of the sacrifice that people said David had made, David said this:
“People talk of the sacrifice I have made in spending so much of my life in Africa. Can that be called a sacrifice which is simply acknowledging a great debt we owe to our God, which we can never repay? Is that a sacrifice which brings its own reward in healthful activity, the consciousness of doing good, peace of mind, and a bright hope of a glorious destiny? It is emphatically no sacrifice. Rather it is a privilege. Anxiety, sickness, suffering, danger, foregoing the common conveniences of this life–these may make us pause, and cause the spirit to waver, and the soul to sink; but let this only be for a moment. All these are nothing compared with the glory which shall later be revealed in and through us. I never made a sacrifice. Of this we ought not to talk, when we remember the great sacrifice which He made who left His Father’s throne on high to give Himself for us.”
David Livingstone lived a very difficult life on the field. He and his wife suffered many hardships while there. Two of their children died in infancy. His wife died at 42. The end of David’s life found him alone, with no family near him. At four on the morning of May 1,1873, the boy who slept at Livingstone’s door wakened, beheld his master, and fearing death, called Susi. “By the candle still burning they saw him, not in bed; but kneeling at the bedside, with his head buried in his hands upon the pillow. The sad, yet not unexpected truth soon became evident; he had passed away on the furthest of all his journeys, and without a single attendant. But he had died in the act of prayer, — prayer offered in that reverent attitude about which he was always so particular; commending his own spirit, with all his dear ones as he was wont, into the hands of his Savior; and commending Africa, his own dear Africa, with all her woes and sins and wrongs, to the Avenger of the oppressed and the Redeemer of the lost.”
I am taken, once again to the woodshed. How rebuked I am at his words and his life. I cannot call what I do for the Lord a sacrifice when it costs me so little. Do I only witness when I’m in the mood? Do I pray if it fits into my schedule for the day? Do I only give when I still have something left for myself? Do I only serve when it’s what I want to do? Each time I serve in such a manner I can picture myself stuffing those 50 shekels of silver back into my purse.
“Oh, Lord, forgive my selfish heart and help me to serve you only when it is of cost to me.”
Yesterday as I shared the wonder of what God did in our service, and rejoiced in the fact that there were many men who were willing to rise up for the Lord, I was very mindful of women that would read this blog and wonder why their husband couldn’t be numbered among that group. One dear reader left a comment about this very thing. You may have a husband that is saved, yet there is no real fruit in his life. You’d love for him to be the spiritual leader of your home, but that is not the case. What is a woman to do in this situation?
