The Cup of the Called

In reading this morning words from Oswald Chambers, I was struck by the purpose of them, let me see if you hear what I heard:

“In the natural life our ambitions alter as we develop; in the Christian life the goal is given at the beginning, the beginning and the end are the same… our Lord Himself.  We start with Christ and end with Him–“Until we all attain to the stature of the manhood of Christ Jesus”,  not to our idea of what the Christian life should be.  The aim of the missionary is to do God’s will, not to be useful, not to win heathen; he is useful and he does win the heathen, but that is not his aim.  His aim is to do the will of his Lord.”

This past Sunday as we stood in a church and sang a song that caused my heart to spill over…

Here are some of the lyrics (by Kari Jobe):  

The more I seek You…the more I find you…
The more I find You…the more I love You…. I wanna sit at Your feet drink from the cup in Your hand, lay back against You and breathe, feel Your heart beat.  This love is so deep it’s more than I can stand, I melt in Your peace, it’s overwhelming…”

As I stood there singing about the cup, the song describes, reminded me of the cup that Jesus asked to be taken from Him…if it could pass … but if not, He was willing to do the will of The Father.  Whatever it took from Him.  That cup would signify His willingly given life.  The cup didn’t take His life…He gave it.

The song, sung in many churches, by many youth and adults alike almost sounds like the cup is a nice cool drink of lemonade and the breeze is blowing through your hair as you lean back on the chest of your Savior.  The song is beautiful.  But that’s not how I hear the song anymore.  I hear it and taste it differently.

The cup is offered.  The calling of missionary life is held out as a sign board with the cup offered being the requisite to get there…. it’s bitter.  There’s no sweetness of the sugary lemonade inside.  Beyond the cup and the sign reading “drink me”, there are thousands of children, snotty noses, dirty faces, rotten teeth, bare feet, half clothed and hungry.  Hungry for more than food.  They hunger to know the One who they’ve never heard of before…the One who can set them free from the life of sin…a sin they may not be even aware they were born into–and behind them–their parents.  Clinging to their lives of whatever suits them- whatever gets them by to the next day.  Alcohol, drugs, abuse…whatever it may be.  See, they have the same issues we do in our country…yet they have very few who can tell them that there is a Better Way.  The Only Way.  Jesus.  The Way, The Truth and The Life.

We were beckoned.  We were called–for me it was as early as 2010.  I felt a stirring like none other experienced in life.  It was more than the “altar call” stirring, it was a complete surrendering call.  Seemed easy enough.  Then we started up the mountain.

I won’t bore you with the details of all the hoops we jumped through in the application process.  That was just a warm up for what was coming as God began to mold and shave off pieces of us that was unnecessary.  We both wanted Him to have us ALL.  Not just pieces–but we WANTED Jesus to come in and stir us and remake us into the usable vessels that would be of most use to Him–shining the light of Salvation into the darkness of the villages in Bolivia that had never heard the name of Christ.

We were well on our way, progress in our budget and monthly support was showing improvement.  Language school was just around the corner in January….then the cup.

The cup offered was bitter.  A surprise.  Unwanted–until I stopped and remembered these words of Oswald I had read years before (2010):  “The aim of the missionary is to do God’s will”…

We don’t draw straws.  We can’t run into the “calling store” and choose the way it will go for us…because remember I said a month ago, this journey, it’s not all about us… 

So, with every taste of the bitter cup, I envision the mountain Jeff and I climbed in October, 2015 with Pastor Joel Morales, in an area that is darkened by the sin and life of sacrifices on worldly altars to pagan gods.   The darkness overwhelmed me so much that as I gulped for air to breathe while we climbed, my heart ached and wept for the lost souls there.  It was truly an overwhelming day and it literally took me a few days to get over the feeling of sadness and dark depravity that shrouded the mountain like the fog that held it captive.  But we climbed on.

The same with this.  I’ve been warned of the harshness of what goes in my body to kill even the most microscopic cancer cell that may be lingering–the cup is indeed bitter… but there are lives at stake….I must finish this cup to get to the next part of our journey.

Some people already think we are nuts…at our age.  But if your child, sister, brother, parent was about to hurl head long into the lake of fire and brimstone–wouldn’t you want someone, no matter their age, to come to help pull them out?  Me too.  We go so that others will know….and others will go.

Time is short.  If you aren’t being called to go, you are being called to send.  If you ignore either calling,….oh friend…

If you want to help us get there with a 100% budget, our link is: www.tinyurl.com/sendjeffandangie
We appreciate every single prayer and dollar.  EVERYTHING MATTERS.

Our most precious supporter is one young girl–a dear dear friend of mine from Sneads, Florida named Kaylee.  Giving all she has.  Her allowance each month.  She and her mom and sister brought me homemade banana bread yesterday and mighty powerful prayers.  With every bite of that bread I felt the prayers they surely prayed as they baked.  God will use every single person to win the lost–if we are willing.

Are you going to climb the mountain with me?  Are you taking the cup and joining the called?  Be a goer-or a sender.

[Sidenote:  we expect to be completed this treatment process by early next year and ready for language school by Spring sessions–pray with us that God performs more miracles than we can write about!]

© Angie Knight- The Knightly News. All rights reserved. Photographs unless otherwise noted are property of Angie Knight. All rights reserved.