If I were to write out
a list of my favorite words and concepts, you could read for days without
finding the word “sacrifice.” It’s not a word I can get excited about. While
I’m eager to accept the sacrifice of others—Jesus’ sacrifice for my sin comes
to mind, as well as the sacrifice military men and women make so I can live in
my nice, free country—I’m not so anxious to sacrifice myself. Yet that’s what
Romans 12:1 instructs me to do.
In the Old Testament,
a sacrifice was completely consumed by God. You didn’t put something on the
altar and hope to leave with leftovers. If you placed it up there, you knew it
had to be totally surrendered to Him, and that didn’t come without cost.
There are parts of me that
are easy, not so costly, to give up to God. I’m happy to put my talents to work
for His service. He’s even been good enough to pay me for this a lot of the
time. It’s not terribly hard for me to give money, and I don’t even think of
the time I set aside to spend with Him as a sacrifice, although I guess it is.
I’ve noticed that a lot of women are worriers, and surrendering their worries
to Him is a daily, gut-wrenching chore. But I’ve never been one to worry much.
I’m also not one who doubts much. I imagine some people have to wrestle their
doubts onto the altar every day, but I find it much easier to believe than to
doubt.
The parts of me I
struggle to sacrifice seem uglier, but maybe that’s just because they’re mine.
It’s a sacrifice for me to give up my right to judge other people. What comes
natural to me is noticing and forming strong opinions—usually unspoken—on
everything from someone’s parenting style to their food choices to their
political fervor to their strange ears, so that it’s an intentional sacrifice
when I heed the Bible’s warnings to stop it already and judge not lest I be
judged. It’s a sacrifice for me to live out patience and grace in a world full
of people who drive me crazy for one reason or another. I have to put that one
on the altar just about every time I leave the house. It’s a sacrifice for me
to put others ahead of myself. It’s a sacrifice to abandon my desire to be
noticed, needed, applauded, and admired and to pursue humility instead. Yeah, I
could feel the burn of that one even as I typed it.
Isn’t it interesting
that one person’s sacrifice is another person’s walk in the park?
But no matter what we
have to sacrifice to give our whole self completely to God, it’s always worth
it. It’s worth it because sacrifice brings transformation. The Old Testament
worshiper left the altar with a clear conscience and a fresh start. The elite
athlete gets a disciplined—and likely chiseled—body for her sacrifice of time
and sweat. My children grow in maturity when they sacrifice their will for the
sake of what is right. And I am more like Jesus when I put others ahead of
myself, when I freely give grace and patience, when I choose to live humbly. I
am transformed in the best possible way. And the more I am transformed, the
less the sacrifice feels like a
sacrifice. What a beautiful thing.
