Selflessness is not a trait I’m well acquainted with. But there have been rare moments in my life where I was obedient to God, and placed his needs ever so slightly above my own fears, ambitions and instincts. And when I did, he poured heaven out on me. One story in particular comes to mind.
When your grandfather, who you endearingly call Pocky, pastored a church in Norwalk, California, there grew dissension and friction within the congregation. I’m not too keen on the details, but I do know that the fraying ties of the church between the elders eventually forced Pocky to resign as the pastor.
It was hurtful. Not only did Pocky devote more than a decade of his life to the congregation, but within the small community of not more than 20 families, we were friends. I met some of my closest friends here.
When Pocky abruptly resigned, I harbored bitterness at many of the elders at the church, some of whom were the parents of the very friends I counted near and dear to my heart. It was an unsettling time in our lives for our family. When my parents left, I left too. There was no question about that. And I had no intention of coming back.
One random day, some years later, I prayed an honest prayer to God. I struggled then, as I do now, between loving him, but not loving him enough. My prayer went something like this. “Lord, I’m discouraged by my unwillingness to do your will. I don’t know if I will ever change and be able to give up my life for you like those people who leave everything behind and go to Africa.”
And in one of those strange ways God speaks to you, I heard him say, “A sacrifice like that is a lifetime achievement. Who’s asking you to go to Africa? I would, however, like to ask you of a smaller favor I know you’re capable of carrying out right now.” So I asked him what baby step he had in mind. Then he asked me to go to the old church my dad pastored at to care for the children.
Full Gospel Crystal Church was always short of teachers. The small congregation meant the offering basket was smaller. And it was the children’s ministry that suffered most. There were many Friday bible study nights, where we had no teacher to lead us. So a parent would come in intermittently by leaving the service to check on us, and make us pray. But where we lacked, God always compensated. I have gained more from this small church with no organizational structure than in any mega church I have been to thereafter. I might’ve left Crystal Church with wounds, but one indelible impression made on me was that God was far from absent because the trimmings were bare. I learned instead that when you are poor, then you are rich because God lavished his presence on the latchkey kids at that church.
The dilemma in returning to the church was one of loyalty to Pocky, obviously. But I made the somewhat tough decision to go back. I decided I could be loyal to my dad by simply going to church and visiting the children’s ministry, and leaving quickly after so I wouldn’t have to see the dissenting elders. Ignoring the elders would be how I would remain loyal to Pocky. And I did just that.
I can’t say that my presence at the children’s ministry did very much. But it was heartwarming to see old faces and the babies I once carried in my arms now running around and wreaking havoc the way I did when I was their age. Maybe my presence did the same for them. I came back to show them that I supported them and that there was someone who cared for them. I tried to help here and there with smallish efforts. The pastor there was a kind, and an inviting fellow from Korea. He welcomed me in.
Then a strange thing happened. The few times that I reluctantly bumped into the elders, they were incredibly happy to see me. So happy in fact, that I could tell from their enthusiasm just how sorry they felt about how everything played out. I can’t say it wasn’t cathartic. In coming back, there was a healing process that took place.
More unexpectedly, they complimented me to no end. “That’s not an easy thing she did. I don’t think I would’ve ever been able to do that.” Not only did they compliment me. But praise for Pocky spread like wildfire throughout the church because I returned. The very fear I had, that I might reduce my father’s dignity somehow by returning, had somehow inexplicably turned into unexpected esteem!
People now had more respect for Pocky than I had ever seen when we attended the church. I heard praise for Pocky firsthand. They stopped me in the hallways to lavish praise on him. They had never done this before. But I also heard it through word of mouth. My aunt, who still kept in touch with some of the members, heard overflowing praise for Pocky from people who knew people who still attended the church because of my return to church. What an unexpected turn of events!
Yes, returning to a church that had hurt us I suppose was a sacrifice. I wanted to remain loyal to Pocky afterall through my instinctive, restrictive human convention. Being clear about why I was returning, for the kids and not the elders, helped me remain poised. As far as I was concerned, the elders could kiss my ass for all I cared. It wasn’t about them. I never said my obedience was wholly holy.
But this is a story about how God’s immaculate plan plays out and how his agenda always, always includes you, especially when you put his agenda ever so slightly above your own. And how he can use imperfect obedience to do something creative, surprising, all-encompassing, and wonderful.
I know life is stress. There is never a shortage of things to think about or worry about. But if you can, from time to time, lay down some time to ask God how you can be of some assistance to him, he will think of you in a way that’s lightyears superior to any plans and schemes you might have for yourself.