Luke 9.18-27
“A LITTLE LOSING, A LOT OF SAVING”
Have you ever had someone tell you something so massively true you knew you couldn’t begin to unpack its meaning until you’d tasted the experience behind it? For example, recall the first time you were told, “When a baby enters your home, it completely changes your life.” Childless, we might have a glimpse of what that means. But until a needy demanding infant dominated our home its meaning was mostly lost upon us. Or how about this, “Once your child is in their teens, most of your parenting is done.” We might nod vaguely at such a remark before actually coping with a teenager in our home. But it is only in realizing you have gone from hero to goat in the span of a few short years that its full impact begins to hit you.
Jesus paradoxical phrase is like that. Those who save their lives—clinging to control and putting personal security first--will paradoxically lose their lives; those who lose themselves—letting go and allowing themselves to get swept up in God’s ways before their own—will be saved. You must experience it before you can grasp it. Or rather, once you experience its mystery, its meaning grasps you.
And that brings me to our theme in worship today as we send-off 12 pilgrims going to the Guatemalan mountains to build houses with Kakchiquel Indians. Nowhere has this truth of losing myself a little to taste God’s salvation become more real to me than in these eight short terms mission trips I have taken to
My first Global Village Work Trip through Habitat for Humanity was 19 years ago in
Typically, we perform different tasks in the course of a work-week. We might line out a home’s footprint and dig footings for the foundation. We might lay cinder block walls or pour concrete floors or move building materials like water or rock. We always mix a lot of concrete and bend a lot of rebar. We won’t know precisely what we will do till we get there. But this much is sure. There are no power tools.
Also, being not very well-versed in construction methods, the locals working on their homes and the mason assigned to each home train us in building technique.
Anyway, back to
At the end of the week we boarded our truck to depart Matagalpa. Saying goodbye always tugs at heartstrings, as working together closely bonds us, and it is unlikely that we shall see one another again. Sometimes tenderhearted small gifts are exchanged. At that farewell, Sylvia approached Elaine with a package wrapped in white chiffon paper. It was the same lovely hand-worked tablecloth Elaine had gone out of her way to praise. This gift was washed, pressed, folded, and wrapped, glistening white on that muddy floodplain where we took our leave.
Elaine was stricken. “Dale, I cannot accept this. Its the last nice thing they have.” “Elaine, she gave it to you because she wants you to have it. You can’t not ac-cept the tablecloth. She would be insulted and wouldn’t understand. Besides that would take her dignity away, the most precious last thing she has. This is the widow’s mite, Elaine. Jesus didn’t say that the poor shouldn’t give so much. What he meant was maybe we should learn to give as much, relative to what we have.”
Sylvia gave us the one lovely thing she owned and it was devastatingly humbling.
Think of this, we lost ourselves a little by working in a war-torn land no one else would visit, by hard physical labor with people unlike ourselves, by eating in the homes of those living on one or two dollars a day. As a result of our losing, a lot of saving broke loose, hopes even grander than the homes left behind. And this hope loomed at least as large within our hearts as it did in the new home owners. I wish I could explain that to practical minded people who say to us, “Why don’t you just send the money instead of going all the way down there?” Friends, grace gets transacted and God’s reign advances only as we lose ourselves enough to cross barriers of race, language, and class the world sets up to keep us apart.
Another story, one closely related to this trip. Twelve years ago I led Habitat for Humanity’s first Global Village Work Trip to
In 1995, however, the Kakchiquel Indians were unaccustomed to having anything to do with white people. And when I say white people, I also mean people of Spanish descent. They were good to us. They gave us everything we needed and helpfully taught us the work. But we sensed some distance, some reserve, some hesitation. Normally, working side by side, you strike a bond with the families in a day or two. Because work is such a great equalizer, especially when their small children are more skilled in these tasks than the highly-vaunted neighbors from the north. But this time it took us a few days to fully engage them. Was it because we crossed three cultures and a greater emotional distance?
On the last day, I understood that learning to trust us was deeper than that. They had planned a party for us on the shores of
Before I blessed the fish, rice, beans, and plantains, one of their leaders asked if he could say a few words. So this respected man, probably 5’2” inches, hat in hand, folded its creases with nervousness of straining for the right words. After the pleasantries of thanking us for coming, he pointed at the many beautiful vacation homes rimming the lake and climbing the three volcanoes towering over us. He informed us the powerful Spanish in
”To them,” he said evenly, “we are like dogs. They drive through our town in large cars to reach their lake homes. And if our children are playing in the street, they won’t even slow down. They are content to run them over. It has happened. He eyeballed us and said, “First, we didn’t believe that you’d really come here and have anything to do with people like us. Second, we never dreamed it was possible for people like us to have friends like you. That makes us very happy.”
I am translating and I am dying, choking on the words, embarrassed by my show of emotion. But then I survey our group, the women are completely undone. And the men—a dental surgeon, a dean of a graduate school, a powerful lawyer, a gerontologist—their eyes are red and tears are streaming down their faces.
Think of this, we lost ourselves a little by crossing two cultures to work with a persecuted people, by being the first in what has become a grand mission and cultural exchange. As a result of that little bit of losing, a lot of saving broke loose, hopes and dreams and bonds even grander than the homes left behind.
One final story, one I shared here last May. The setting was the same town on
This large family was working with us, including their toddlers. We were charmed by their smiles and their gratitude. They spent what was likely a few day’s wages just to treat us to soda pop in the tropical heat. We were getting along famously and getting the job done. As we reached a depth of eight feet in our digging and carrying, something incredible emerged. We unearthed pre-Colombian artifacts in that fertile soil. Large shards of Mayan pottery still sporting the patterns of the vegetable dyes surfaced. We found a jade ceremonial button the size of a silver dollar, shaped like a large Cheerio, a better specimen than in some museums. The Mayan priests wore them to perform their rituals. We gave it all to the family.
Think of this, we lost ourselves a little by putting aside our privileged place to dig toilets with the dirt poor and something saving emerged in rare cultural treasures. But the real treasure was the people and what we shared. On the day we parted, that family of ten presented me with an emblem of their thanks. May I share it? The women wove this cloth themselves by hand. It will be our flag and banner for our return. It reads, “Memento of the family Xep Isem, San Lucas Toliman.”
You could buy me a Mercedes, a sea cruise, or a new kitchen. None of it would be more precious than this. Next week we will visit this family from 12 years ago in their Habitat home. That home was made possible by the giving that church people like you did back in the nineties. We can’t take you all with us, we wish we could. But you can support us first with prayer and second with your giving. We can build an entire home for $3,800. Consider giving a whole home or a part. So far, we’ve already built 53 homes, 53 families in Latin American and the
Remember, those of us who want to save our lives will lose them, but those of us willing to lose ourselves for God and for the cause of the Gospel will save them. Amen. .
