The price you pay to love

 "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. " - Luke 15:20

Discipleship is dangerous.

Those who know me would know that I used to invest a lot of time and energy into discipling/mentoring younger Christians. It is one of the ministries that I passionately believe in, that I know makes a difference in people's lives.

Those who know me better, those who have looked more closely, would have also noticed that in the last year or so, I haven't been quite as keen in doing this any more. On the surface things may look like what they were in the past. But personally, I felt like I've been holding everyone out at arm's length. I haven't really engaged in someone else's growth for a long time; I haven't truly invested in another's life,   sacrificing something of mine in order to see them grow.

I hadn't actually seen it in that light. I thought I was just tired, weary, overworked, overstressed. But tonight I was able to attend a Gundy Young Adults' Bible Study group, and we just so happened to be talking about Discipleship this night. And it pushed my mind to ponder the state of my heart: Why was it that this topic which used to be so dear to my heart seemed so… difficult… to approach? What was it in me that made me so hesitant to dive back into this area? Why do my efforts in this area seem so half-hearted? Why do I fail to persist very far in this supposedly most-worthy work?

After a bit of reflection, I realised that the problem was fear. Fear that arose from pain.

You see, when you disciple someone you invest in them. You give off something of yourself to them, in order that they could grow. The more you invest, the more that can come out of it. And sometimes the harvest is beautifully abundant and everyone is happy.

But investment always involves risk. If there's no risk, then it could hardly be called a worthy investment. When you invest in someone, you have to expect a risk that the return isn't as great as you thought it would be. Or even that it would backfire on you and end up hurting you.

I was burnt. The investment I poured out into certain peoples' lives didn't turn out the way I thought it would go, that I wanted it to go.  And it grieved me. Yes, I know that ultimately it's not up to me or my power, that it's up to God's Spirit to move in that person. But it impossible for one to watch someone, who you love as deeply as if he was your very own son, move away from God and die a very slow spiritual death and not be grieved. It's like watching a family member being slowly eaten away by cancer - you see them dying, you see what's causing it, but you are powerless to stop it. Yes, there wasn't much I could do; but that did not mitigate in the least the depth of my grief for the situation.

And after such a painful situation, one wonders: is it really worth the cost? Can I really afford to let myself get burnt again? Can I really give until it hurts again?

Up until now, the question had been "unresolved". And, hence, the hesitation, the half-heartedness. I still think it's a worthy cause, but I just didn't know whether I was ready to pay the price any more.

Until tonight.

I don't know exactly why it changed. But tonight when I witnessed a friend weeping because of a different sort of loss in totally different circumstances, something twisted in my gut.

It is worth it. These tears that we weep for the ones we love are worth it; they are precious diamonds that cannot be bought with any amount of money. Even if we spend the rest of our lives marked and scarred by the loss of these ones that we love dearly, these people who we invest so deeply of our lives, it is worth it. Even if they never come back, even if things don't ever turn out for the better, they are worth it.

For me, it was a defining moment in helping me understand once again the Father's Heart. It is difficult to appreciate the depth of compassion that the Father of Luke 15:20 has for his prodigal son just by reading the words, but if you make an effort to put yourself in that situation, it's a bit easier. It paints a picture of a Father, who has been eagerly looking for the wayward son, even though he had no idea whether the son would come back or not. It shows the depth of compassion that the Father had for his son, regardless of how awfully the son had treated him, regardless of how little affection he received back from him.

This is my Heavenly Father's heart for me; this is my Heavenly Father's heart for the sons and daughters He places in my care; this is the way that my Father wants me to emulate His love for people. He wants me to love even when it hurts, not to love only until it hurts. He wants me to embrace them, even if doing so would cost me.

Why is it worth it? Well, I don't really know. I just know that this is what the Father wants, and I know that if that is what my Father wants, that is what He should get. I know that He wants what is good, and therefore I know that to love in this way is good.

And so, despite the aching deep in my bones, the weariness that comes from a grieving heart, I stand once again. It is time to shake off that weariness, to put my armour back on and join the fray once again. There is too much work to be done, and too little time to waste. There are too many people who need to be loved, and too little time in which to do it.

PS - to my prodigal son, on the off-chance you are reading this: I love you, and like your Heavenly Father we are both watching for you eagerly and greatly anticipating your return. I don't know what Our Father is planning, but I am hopeful and prayerful that some day you will see His Light once more. And when you return, there will be much feasting and celebrating :) But I cannot wait for you forever, and I need to get up and get working again; and all I can do is trust that God will take care of you and bring you back under His wings. Some day. Amen; may His Will be done.