Counting the Cost

11-19-09

Our community--our family--is lessened by one today. One of our current student missionaries was killed yesterday, probably murdered, in Yap, where she was teaching second grade. It doesn't make sense; it's not supposed to make sense. Death does not make sense. Death does not make sense. Is that clear?

When I went on a mission trip to India, we visited the Taj Mahal, which, as most people know, is a tomb built by an emperor for his most beloved wife. He planned everything,  made everything line up, be symmetrical. It's really quite artistic. When he died, the daughter who loved him the most put his coffin in the same tomb, next to his wife's. It's the only thing that doesn't line up with everything else. It was asymmetrical, and that's one of the things that struck me there and never left. Death is asymmetrical.

I am also reminded of the day that we spent in our hotel in Khammam instead of going and watching baptisms. Why? Because the United States Embassy was afraid of reprisals over Saddam Hussein's execution. In fact, one of our vehicles (not mine) had been stopped as a mob burned President Bush in effigy in front of them. When I think about it now, I realize that we were probably in danger then, but I don't think I really thought of it then.

I don't know how much I thought about the possibility of me dying in Ebeye. But the possibility existed. Something similar to what happened to Kirsten could have taken place; I could have jumped from something wrong, hit something in the ocean; I could have gotten decompression sickness when surfacing while scuba diving; our taxis could have crashed; our planes could have crashed; our boats could have crashed; I could have gotten sick--any number of things could have happened. But they didn't.

I read a story from one of our current SMs on Majuro. He relayed the story of the SMs serving on Jeh, an outer island. Check it out here. God used a cat to save their lives. Just this Wednesday night at our Bible study we were praising God for the miracles He was working (and still works). Sometimes it's hard to see the miracles, I remember saying. Well, sometimes it's hard. No joke.

Anyway, all I kept thinking was, "Count the cost. Count the cost. Count the cost." We're so fond of saying that, but I don't think we usually truly understand just what that phrase encompasses. We talk about giving up a year to God, but the cost could mean giving up one's physical life. I think we don't talk about it because we don't want to think about it. I mean, who wants to think about dying? Dying's asymmetrical, it doesn't make sense, it scares us all to some degree. Doesn't it?

Ignoring the simple facts doesn't mean those facts don't exist. Death is possible even for missionaries, though we wish it weren't so. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, "When Jesus calls a person, He bids him come and die." Christ says, "Whoever desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel's will save it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Mark 8:34b-37, bolding mine). Jim Elliot said, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." So I think you can see where my thoughts are trending toward. Missionaries are out in the field because God called them to that field; missionaries are there because they answered the call. God never promises that everything will be hunky-dory. In fact, He promises that there will be trials and tribulations. He says, "Count the cost." He says, "Think about it. Decide whether you truly want to follow Me. I will give you all that you need, I will keep what you give Me until My coming, I will be your Everything--but make sure it's what you want. I want you, but I want you to want Me. Count the cost."

It might mean a year or years of your life--or your life. I don't know which He calls us to, and perhaps that category is shifting. I don't think we can truly understand WHY on this side of heaven--but that is exactly why we do not have to mourn as the world mourns. We have hope. The Southern website is full of messages of hope and love, messages of "We'll see you soon," "Can't wait to see you," and the like. We will see Kirsten again, even if it's difficult to live without her now.

Killed in action. Attacked by the Enemy. Where else can we go but to our General and ask for marching orders? Let us not fall back, let us not retreat, let us not grow weary or wary of doing good. Let us march forth. Let us go to all the world, let us proclaim the Gospel to the ends of the earth so that Jesus will come back and call the sleepers forth. Let many more missionaries be risen up in Kirsten's place--not as replacements, for she can never be replaced--but because, as Tertullis (or whatever his name was) said, "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church."

Let us count the cost, and deem it still worth paying.

More later.