Rescue Mission: Ministry
My parents aren't firefighters, but in a way, they kind of are. Time and time again, I've seen their relaxing Saturday nights interrupted by a tear-filled phone call - a marriage falling apart, a sick child, an unsaved family member leaving again - and without hesitation, they are heading out the door and into the flames. I've seen them drop everything to be by someone's side, to walk with them through dark seasons, and to carry them through the crisis at hand.
The fire is usually something that starts small - a disagreement, a nagging wife, a lazy husband, a kid who won't obey. But my parents aren't around for the small fires. No one calls 911 when a candle is burning. It's not until the walls start collapsing and the smoke is so thick that they cannot make it through themselves. By the time my parents show up, the fire has engulfed the home and the family inside - in one way or another - is slowly being destroyed. By the time my parents are even called, the fire is out of control. That's ministry - the perpetual putting out of fires that sinful people (like myself) have allowed to burn for too long.
Nonetheless, my parents rush into the flames. They step into the heat - the hottest, most dangerous parts where most people are not willing to go. They charge toward the fire that everyone else is running away from - the sin that no one was willing to confront, the conversation that no one wanted to have. They risk their time, their joy, their inner peace, and their health to fight this fire. Many times, they come out bearing the weight of the war they were in. They reek of the smoky disapproval of onlookers - church members who say they should just "stay out of it" or family members deeming the situation a lost cause. But in the same way a firefighter would never just stay out of a fire, my parents would not let the people they love continue to be engulfed by the flames that life throws at them. Sometimes it takes more out of them than they would ever expect - they are broken by other's sin, beaten by the continual disobedience, discouraged by unwillingness to repent, and burned by people who promised to change and never did. It weighs on them every night when they come home in the same way any firefighter would continue to think about the fire he just fought - is there anything they could have done differently? should they have seen it coming? what if they had only gotten there faster?
And through it all, they continue to embrace the heat time and time again. In some ways, they are risking it all for the love of the people in the fire. But it's what they've been called to. It's what they love. It's what God has planned for them. And for that reason, they will continue to drop everything and hustle to the heat. They will fight the fires they are called to every single time, no matter how long the scars stay with them and how badly they are burned.
A tribute to my parents, my pastors, and everyone in ministry: thank you for fighting our fires.
The fire is usually something that starts small - a disagreement, a nagging wife, a lazy husband, a kid who won't obey. But my parents aren't around for the small fires. No one calls 911 when a candle is burning. It's not until the walls start collapsing and the smoke is so thick that they cannot make it through themselves. By the time my parents show up, the fire has engulfed the home and the family inside - in one way or another - is slowly being destroyed. By the time my parents are even called, the fire is out of control. That's ministry - the perpetual putting out of fires that sinful people (like myself) have allowed to burn for too long.
Nonetheless, my parents rush into the flames. They step into the heat - the hottest, most dangerous parts where most people are not willing to go. They charge toward the fire that everyone else is running away from - the sin that no one was willing to confront, the conversation that no one wanted to have. They risk their time, their joy, their inner peace, and their health to fight this fire. Many times, they come out bearing the weight of the war they were in. They reek of the smoky disapproval of onlookers - church members who say they should just "stay out of it" or family members deeming the situation a lost cause. But in the same way a firefighter would never just stay out of a fire, my parents would not let the people they love continue to be engulfed by the flames that life throws at them. Sometimes it takes more out of them than they would ever expect - they are broken by other's sin, beaten by the continual disobedience, discouraged by unwillingness to repent, and burned by people who promised to change and never did. It weighs on them every night when they come home in the same way any firefighter would continue to think about the fire he just fought - is there anything they could have done differently? should they have seen it coming? what if they had only gotten there faster?
And through it all, they continue to embrace the heat time and time again. In some ways, they are risking it all for the love of the people in the fire. But it's what they've been called to. It's what they love. It's what God has planned for them. And for that reason, they will continue to drop everything and hustle to the heat. They will fight the fires they are called to every single time, no matter how long the scars stay with them and how badly they are burned.
A tribute to my parents, my pastors, and everyone in ministry: thank you for fighting our fires.