We are all marginal people from obscure places— fishermen, tax collectors, children, women, and people from nations despised by other nations—just like the early believers in the Gospels. And just like them, we are called to a sacred destiny that lifts us out of the ordinary world and into the extraordinary where housewives become backdoor prophets, retirees extend God’s healing power throughout their communities, loggers become evangelists, and small groups become powerhouses where the presence of God resides and transforms individuals. We begin where we are and step out according to our faith.
Don is one of my neighbors here on an island in the Pacific Northwest, and he attends a local Foursquare Church. One day, he was walking along the shore of the island when he saw a couple with their five children gathering driftwood. As the father passed by, Don asked him what they were gathering driftwood for. The man replied, “We burn it in our woodstove. We can’t afford the heating bill in the winter so this is what we do.”
Don knew that burning salt-laden wood quickly corrodes the woodstove and chimney and that driftwood should not be
burned. The fire hazard outweighed the savings. Another thought came to mind as well: If this family was in need of
wood, how many others were doing the same thing, scrounging the beach so they could stay warm in the Northwestern damp and rainy winters?
His eyes were opened that day to a need that he felt prompted to fill. Don started gathering firewood and, as others heard what he was doing, people began donating firewood for him to distribute to single mothers, widows, and families in need. Initially, Don had piles of firewood in his front yard that he would load into a pickup he purchased for the ministry. Then he would drive it out to the homes on his list, unload it, and repeat, usually by himself. It took him two weeks to deliver the initial loads to the people on his list.
Wood donations poured in with a mixture of split logs and kindling from lumberyards and logging operations. On occasion, people donated trees from their property, and Don and a few men from the church would go out and split and load the logs. Eventually, a local lumberyard offered the use of a forklift and truck. The wood was tossed into bins made up of pallets and loaded onto the truck by a forklift. Truck, driver, forklift, and Don made the rounds in record time.
The wood deliveries led to greater spiritual influence in the community than Don ever anticipated. Don found himself talking to the men who rode with him and helped in the ministry. He realized that he was mentoring them as a father would a son, listening to their hurts and family concerns and
ministering wisdom, truth, and the love of the Father, one-on- one. It was a time to be cherished, a bonding time between spiritual father and son.
Once they unloaded the wood, Don would ask if they could pray for the recipient. Almost everyone says yes. Their hearts melted as Don’s fatherly prayer and natural provision of wood strangely warmed their hearts. Many of these people have never, nor would ever, walk into a church; but they are awakening to the love of God right at home. Don brings something of the normal Christian life to them…without the pressure to conform to a specific religion or belief. He brings the love and power to change hearts of believers and unbelievers alike and lifts people out of the bondage of wintertime debt. Don is walking in the normal Christian life— receiving God’s love and giving it away.
Don took what was considered waste—scrap wood or fallen trees—and saw that it could meet a need in his community. But Don moved out into ministry because he knew that whatever he did for the least of these, he was doing unto the Lord (see Matt. 25:45).
Watchman Nee, writing in The Normal Christian Life, believes that this is where we start—not by using our gifts and anointing to create a spectacular ministry, but to step out and minister to the Lord, wasting our lives on Him.
But we have to remember this, that He will never be satisfied without our ‘wasting’ ourselves upon Him.
Have you ever given too much to the Lord? May I tell you something? One lesson some of us have come to learn is this; that in Divine service the principle of waste is the principle of power. The principle, which determines usefulness, is the very principle of scattering. Real usefulness in the hand of God is measured in terms of ‘waste.’ The more you think you can do, and the more you employ your gifts up to the very limit (and some even go over the limit!) in order to do it, the more you find that you are applying the principle of the world and not of the Lord. God’s ways with us are all designed to establish in us this other principle, namely, that our work for Him springs out of our ministering to Him. I do not mean that we are going to do nothing; but the first thing for us must be the Lord Himself, not His work.2