An act of worship

Tuesday morning: time to leave the U.S. for Brussels. Late night last minute details were followed by early morning moments of panic: where’s my shirt? did we pack the battery charger? are you sure our bags aren’t too heavy?

Jon Hayden, one of our interns, loaded the van in a driving rain – four suitcases and four trunks, 545 pounds in all. Ask him if the bags were too heavy. Hurricane Alex notwithstanding, we headed for the airport.

We were greeted by fifty friends from four supporting churches. This was the hard part. Would our friendships survive the separation of time and distance? Warm embraces, moistened eyes, honest declarations of true affection, promises to keep in touch, and a time of prayer.

And then there’s my mother. She’s really struggling. Someone needs to buy her house soon. Doctors are trying to figure out what’s wrong. She’s sending her grandkids to Europe – again.

A card from Scotty and Ivonne Hill reminded me that Jesus cared about his mother from the cross. Jesus entrusted her care to John; I felt like we were entrusting my mother to the community of friends that God has gathered around us. As we turned to walk away, we saw Julie and Laura Doyle a safe distance away: waiting, ready to receive my mom and help shoulder her hurts.

Why do we do all this? Because God calls us? For the lost in Brussels? No, not primarily. It’s an act of worship. God is so great that He’s worth our highest sacrifice. Our trip, our move, inconveniences, heartaches, sacrifices we’re all making, the pain of separation for us and others: all things we hold up to God as if to say, “Here, you can have this, because You’re worth so much more.”

Lord, receive this trip, this move, our lives as an act of worship.