I could say “Yes” to God, or I could say “No”

A couple of years before we moved to Africa, my husband, Dave, asked me each day, “Have you filled it out yet?”

“It” was my application for Wycliffe Bible Translators. I knew Dave wanted a different job. Maybe his current one lacked purpose. Or perhaps he suffered from a mid-life crisis. All his life, he has yearned to avoid mediocrity, to break out of the status quo. Probably all those factors led to his urgent need to serve God in Wycliffe. 

For some reason, though, I couldn’t fill out the application. I tried several times. I placed my pen on the application, but I couldn’t fill in the blanks. (from Chapter 2, Grandma’s Letters from Africa) 

I determined to set aside time, to attune my ears and heart to God’s, to be alert to His voice. 

Such a process can take weeks, months, maybe years. 

When I did, eventually I seemed to hear God asking me to place Him—not my children and my relationship with them—in first place in my life. 

I stood at a scary, heartbreaking crossroads. 

I could say “Yes” to God. Or I could say “No.” 

Jenilee Goodwin writes that when we sense God speaking to us, “We have to choose yes or no, go or stay, believe or walk away. Hearing God’s voice requires an answer, an action. So often, it’s easier not to ask. If we don’t know what God is asking of us or inviting us to do, we don’t have to choose obedience or answer the call.” 

Oswald Chambers wrote of those times “when our path seems treacherous and uncharted.” Wow. He nailed it—I stood on a treacherous, uncharted path. 

Such times, Chambers said, such paths, are “God’s way of molding us, of capturing our attention so that we focus on Him and not on ourselves. . . . [They are] His means for us to know Him.” (Christian Disciplines) 

And if we are to come anywhere near carrying out the first and greatest commandment—loving God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength (Mark 12:31, Deuteronomy 6:4)—we start by increasingly knowing Him. 

I could have said “No,” I wanted to say “No,” but I said “Yes.” I stepped forward. 

As I told you last week, one by one, I placed my kids on an altar, of sorts, that I had pictured in my mind. I began with my precious Karen. I had to let go, offer her up to God, walk away, and grieve—grieve—for days. 

I repeated the process with son Matt. 

My mourning was palpable. 

This month-long process left me emotionally spent, numb, my heart torn to shreds. 

Words can’t capture the utter rawness, the unspeakable ravages of dying to oneself in order to die to one’s children, even when we do it because God is asking that of us. 

Only after that excruciating process could I fill out the Wycliffe Bible Translators application. 

And after that, and after I dropped it in the mailbox, once again I determined to set aside time, to attune my ears and heart to God’s, to be alert to His voice. 

What would He say? Would He say He wanted us to serve with Wycliffe? 

Even if His answer was “yes,” I could say “no.” I could turn my back and walk away.