I don’t know how to be sent.  I learned how to go early on in life, but I’m not entirely sure how to stay put.  I really don’t know how to be sent.  When something needs to happen, I know how to ask about it.  I can even predict needs and wants and try to meet them ahead of being asked for them.  But, I have no idea how to be sent.

Intellectually, I understand it.  Someone discovers a need, a want, a desire, etc.  Then they look around and decide how to meet that situation.  Whether it requires items, people, time, etc.  Once someone makes it to the point of understanding it, then often they choose someone (even if it is themselves) to go and do it. 

I often laugh at dogs.  Granted it’s usually their owners that I truly laugh at, but I laugh at dogs.  They are often filled with unbridled enthusiasm.  Some of them get put on a chain or rope or leash, but they hardly realise it until they run all out to the end of that tether… and WHAM!  They jerk backward, often losing their footing, and look up confused as to what happened.  They often do it again and again. 

I often grieve at myself.  I have been known to do the same thing.  Especially with the concept of going out to where I have believed God to be sending me.  I used to have the energy and childlike belief that God would honour the effort, so often I wouldn’t check in until I was laying on my back wondering what the heck happened.  It pains me to say such, and of the few things in the world that actually embarrass me, that is one that approaches that feeling.

For me, I have never been invested enough for someone to send me somewhere.  To send me to serve is all too often a pipe dream that doesn’t ever let me go.  My hope smothers me in the nighttime because I know that I am supposed to be able to step out and be God’s servant.  But until I am being sent by someone else, someone in authority, I am unfortunately having to stay still.

I once heard a great man of God challenge us at Urbana in the 1990’s with the following passage of scripture:

for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”

——–Romans 10:13-15

We as followers of Christ are told to “Go”.  We don’t need a proclamation from on high, a burning bush, or some other grandiose sign to send us.  We have to have a significant reason to not go.  But, after more than half of my life of trying to go, I have come to the conclusion that I never read this passage clear enough.  I need to be sent.  Until that happens, nothing I will do will be what God has designed me to do.

My heart breaks every time someone else goes on the mission’s field, works on a college campus, or ends up being sent to be God’s representative and servant.  I only ache because I want so badly for it to be my turn someday.  The way my life has gone, I’m sure that I will get the chance, for a week, maybe two.  I despair so often about this that I have to try to convince myself that I never wanted it in the first place.  I explain it away, or rather I fail miserably to explain it away.

My mother ran away from everything that was God until she was almost 60 years old.  She finally lived out her dream, and died serving God in the country of Uganda.  If there was no other purpose for me to want so badly to go, I’m sure it was because she finally did get to go.  But she’s been able to have my dreams come true for her.  I wonder if I’ll ever learn how.

I need to be sent.  I need someone to sit me down, tell me everything that I need to do, need to be…. so I can be sent too, so I can finally be.  I will gladly lay down what I have always known to learn something new.  I’ll give up being temporary.  I am beginning to run out of things to give up, except for the chance to ever be sent at all.

That breaks my heart into so many irregular pieces that will never be possible to put together again.

I need to be sent.