Sarah Nyhan

Worth. Value. Work.

Towards the end of 2011, I prayed that God would make me the kind of person that He could trust to be very rich. I’m not particularly materialistic; I just wanted to not have to worry about money when making decisions. I wanted to be able to be free to do whatever work came to mind instead of feeling trapped in what I then thought of as unimportant jobs and “worldly” work.

I heard a story about a man who was able to financially bless people. He apparently said something about how the more money he shoved out, the more money God poured in. “I want to be like that, Jesus.”

So sitting at my cubicle desk in 2011, I prayed for God to make me the kind of person that He could trust to be rich. I felt an immediate rebuke: “You have no idea how rich you already are.”

Boom. That was just the beginning. It was like with that response, a start button was pressed and I have been on the most intense rollercoaster adventure ever since for the past seven years.

It started out with me being laid off for the first time in my life from that little cubicle job where I arguably was one of the most productive performers. With sufficient pride and intolerance to match, much to my shame. In His grace, God provided a replacement job before I even knew I was going to be laid off.

Then another layoff a month or so later. Same scenario. He provided work for me literally the day that I found out I was going to be laid off.

More stretching. Less comfort. This pattern repeated itself over the years. Intensifying. As I ignorantly prayed, “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters wherever You would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander…”

I am so ashamed these days. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be comfortable. But my whining is deplorable. These cries I made to the Lord about my “suffering”. Where I live in a country that people risk their lives to reach. Where our biggest medical problems relate to an abundance of excess versus actual lack. Where we mistakenly think criticism and rejection is oppression.

I am so spoiled. I listen to stories of elders and feel so ashamed. People who are still alive and can talk about how they hid from bombs, watched loved ones be killed, worked since they were children, considered meat a luxury, etc. My own grandfather lived in a “house” which was actually a big hole cut out of the ground with a roof on top. They lived in the ground.

And yet I can give you a list of first-world complaints on any given day. We actually kill each other over high-priced sneakers in this country. Mukbangs, where people watch other people overeat, are popular entertainment. I am so ashamed sometimes of my American mentality.

There are people right now praying to be in the situations I complain about. How we take for granted clean drinking water – even from the tap, hot water, air conditioning, sanitation, the freedom to gather, vehicles for travel instead of foot power. We don’t have to dodge bombs or bullets for the most part. We have access to life-saving medicines. We have food available on almost every corner. As women, our dress is not restricted. I could go on and on.

And yet how this journey over the past seven years has taught me how little those things mean in the absence of loved ones and/or knowing how loved I am in Christ. How small-minded I am to judge His love by the amount of material blessings I think I possess. A very difficult thing to give more than lip service to in this land permeated with prosperity preaching.

This American culture defines worth and value by how much we have or do. I find God saying even if all is gone, even in the absence of all outward manifestations of success, I am still loved just as much. He is still especially fond of me. Of you. Of us. To His glory and praise. Not for His ego. We cannot even hold ourselves to our own expectations first of all. Is it Him working or us?

I think of the disciples who wanted to be first. Jesus told them they had no idea what they were asking. They insisted. They had no idea what Jesus meant. Being on His team meant suffering and death. Actual humiliation and service. Not just a bunch of likes on Facebook and selling out auditoriums.

How many of us have that same mentality? “I want You Jesus if You will just keep my suffering to an acceptable level where I can carry a chip on my shoulder and pat myself on the back for having earned my “victim” card. But to have my life be completely decimated and be actually totally dependent on You, no thanks – You must not be as good as I thought You were. I mean look at all MY good works – I deserve more from You.”

This is not to make light of any pain. Despite all I’ve said, I do not think comparing pain of one to another in any way takes away the significance of one pain over another. If someone punches me in the face, it will still hurt. Even if it isn’t a bullet wound or an amputation.

But what I am talking about is this obsession with more. Back to 2011 when I am sitting at my cubicle desk thinking I am doing nothing important with my life. God has changed my mentality so much since then. Every interaction with every person every day is important. Regardless of whether I am a President or a paralytic invalid. The highest calling is to love. I can do that in whatever work I am offered. In every moment. There is no small job anymore. Making a sandwich with love, stapling papers with love, cleaning toilets with love, etc. All are opportunities to participate with God. All are important to Him. I am convinced of that now.

Will I have to swallow my pride? Unfortunately, yes. Over and over. My ego, as useless as it is, does not want to die.

Do we want a name with people or with God? Is it ok if only God sees? What could be a higher calling than loving those given to us? Working diligently at the task of the day? Comforting others with the comfort we’ve been given? Letting our actions do the most talking? Working through the messes of real relationships versus the false safety of shallow superficiality?

I am that important. You are that important. One life matters. One moment matters. I really think God is way more concerned with quality versus quantity. Healing our deepest wounds over the comfort we gradually unintentionally cling to instead of His love. Or anything we try to trust in more than Him: health, safety, even knowledge.

Does God love us that much? I think so. As difficult as it is sometimes to let go of our “independence”.

I still think God’s heart is always to give us The Promised Land and Eden and heaven. But freedom starts and has always started from the inside out. Our view might look a lot different than His. Who are we? We do not see the whole picture. We tend to be slaves to our senses. He wants more for us than we know to want for ourselves. We are not in the position to correctly judge.

We cannot do any of this on our own. We can’t clean ourselves up. We can only come as children. Boldy to His grace. Asking, “Help me see, Father.” Will He not give us all things? He who spared nothing to save us from ourselves. Ask and You shall receive.

A well-known celebrity recently said that despite all his worldly success, nothing was more satisfying than helping people. A young woman with a terminal illness said recently that you should seriously go enjoy your life because there are people fighting like (and I might add, thru) hell for theirs. A woman who escaped war and poverty in another country said happiness is everywhere. She said even a flower blossom is happiness.

All we have is this moment. To live in it fully, to truly seize it, in whatever we do, whether it be so-called big or small, seems to me like a great act of worship.