“Hereby perceive we the love of God, because He laid down His life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. ” How often I think of that “ought”. no sugary sentiment there. Just a stern, glorious trumpet call, OUGHT. But can words tell the joy buried deep within? Mine cannot- it laughs at words – Amy Carmichael, letter in the Old Forest House 1922
We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 2 Corinthians 4:10
The title made my breath catch in my throat. I’ll admit.
One day last fall while I was dress shopping with Grace for homecoming I got a text from a very good friend, Leslie, with a simple line “have you ever read about Amy Carmichael, you should. ”
That was it.
She knew I was on a pilgrimage of sorts with the Lord learning about women missionaries. What she did not know was I had recently dreamed vividly of India and Nepal, but the Lord knew. He planted those dreams in my spirit, and he sent her along to water them that day.
So I watched my beautiful daughter trying on dresses with so much thankfulness in my heart that God makes room for us to be all He calls us to be- mom and missionary and farmer and wife and aunt and sister – take a deep breath- He will make a way❤️ and when I got home that evening and settled in. I did a simple google search, which eventually led me to this book.
Read it.
You’ll be inspired and stretched and I pray passion will fill your heart up so deep you won’t be the same, even if you have never felt like leaving your front yard. Because your front yard mission field is just as important to God as India.
Back to the title- a chance to die!
Wow- not really what I had in mind. But it’s exactly what God does. We have to die to really live. We must let ourselves completely die to be completely resurrected- all those little fleshly things like control, gossip, materialism, vanity, fears, ego based goals, anger, bitterness, un-forgiveness, what ifs— they all have to die!
I finished reading this book the morning I snapped this photo, sitting on my safe country porch with my coffee watching my full of wonder and life little niece swing and sing and run and play – my eyes filled with tears. Tears for the little girls her age told about in this book, girls sold to “the gods” in temples for unimaginable, horrible things. Girls with their wonder and life and joy stolen right from them, and in the name of god- what kind of gods are those? Right? Who would worship gods like this? People who don’t know the real love of a good Father, a love that heals and brings the dead back to life- that’s who. I sat there sipping my coffee, and I felt the hot breeze gently blow my hair.
I heard the Lord ask “who will go?”-
I whispered back- here I am Lord, send me.
Because Amy’s work is not complete, all those seeds she sowed and so many other laid down lovers of a living God before and after her as well-
now, the harvest is ripe.
Who will go?
Shannon R. Hess 