Becoming

Happy New Year! Happy Epiphany! Today, January 6, is the day on the church calendar (the "twelfth day of Christmas") when we celebrate the "appearing" of Jesus to the world, the light of the world. In many cultures, Jesus' "appearance" to the world is remembered through the story of the Wise Men's visit. A star...a journey...gifts for a king.

The Wise Men gave gold, frankincense and myrrh. Strange gifts that we could spend a lot of time thinking about. But suffice it to say, that's what they had to give. And that begs the question...what do we have to give?

Around this time of year, Christians often do something to recommit themselves to the baby of Bethlehem for another year. For some it might be solitary prayer, for others it might be an act of repentance. For those of us in the Wesleyan/Methodist tradition, there is a prayer that dates back to the time of John Wesley called the Covenant Prayer. Though it wasn't originally meant for this time of year (Wesley actually wrote it to be used at any time), it has come to be our practice to pray this prayer at or near the beginning of a new year, as a way to "recommit" or "re-give" ourselves to Jesus. At our church, we'll be having our Covenant Service this coming Sunday, January 12, but it occurs to me that we often just say the words without a lot of thought to what they mean. So, for this week, I'd like to explore a bit about this prayer, to help us prepare for praying it, for giving ourselves as the gift to Jesus.

The prayer that is at the heart of the Covenant Service reads like this:


Lord, make me what You will.
I put myself fully into Your hands:
Put me to doing, put me to suffering,
Let me be employed for You, or laid aside for You,
Let me be full, let me be empty,
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and with a willing heart
Give it all to Your pleasure and disposal.

Those are tough words! Those are hard words! Not hard to say, but hard to live. The very first phrase ought to be enough to put us on our knees, face to the ground in prayer: "Lord, make me what you will."

I have a son who will (Lord willing) graduate this coming June. The most common question he gets asked these days is, of course, "What are you going to study next year?" The assumption is that he will go to college (he is) and has already decided what he wants to be when he "grows up." (I don't know about you, but I'm still wondering what I'm going to be when I grow up!) The question, really, is this: "What do you want to make of yourself?"

That's an entirely different question than this prayer puts before us. We ask, "What do I want to be? What should I make of myself?" The prayer asks God to make of us what he will. The question ought to be, "What does God want you to be?" And when we begin to hear that "still, small voice" directing us to that goal, we should pursue it with everything in us.

Last year I read Eric Metaxas' excellent biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and one of the things Bonhoeffer's story reminded me of was the cost of pursuing God's call with everything. Bonhoeffer didn't necessarily want to be a rebellious pastor, leader of an underground seminary or a martyr for the faith. He could have stayed hidden, safe in either America or England as a student or a pastor. But he heard God's clear call, despite the warnings of his friends, to return to Germany, to fight against the Third Reich from inside his homeland. Had anyone asked him when he was young, "What do you want to be?" I doubt Bonhoeffer would have replied, "A martyr." But when God called him to faithfulness, Bonhoeffer answered: "Lord, make me what you will."

John Wesley's story is similar. He didn't want to become a pastor; he basically was ordained because that's what was expected. He then planned to "hide" in the academy, be a teacher and stay away from the pulpit. And yet God called him and used him to lead one of the world's great revivals. C. S. Lewis called himself "the most reluctant convert" in all of England when he came to trust in Christ. And yet God has used his writings to shape much of western theology in the latter part of the twentieth century. Stories like these are all over. It's what happens when we pray with an honest heart, "Lord, make me what you will."

I guess the question really is this: are we brave enough to pray that prayer? (And that's just the beginning!)


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