Anything but common

I love the ESV version of Acts 10:15. “And the voice came to him again a second time, "What God has made clean, do not call common."

Specifically the fact that the Lord references the unclean, or unholy foods, as “common.”

Is it just me or does it cross anyone else’s mind that they are just....common?

I’m a common Mom, living a common life. (Yes, I know we have 6 kids. For us, that’s common.)

Or maybe for you, you’re just a common person, working a common job. Your job isn’t fancy and you’re a creature of habit. You have worn the same shirt to bed since 1983 and you like it that way. By all standards set by the world, you’re common.

Or maybe you’re a rockstar during the day, but when you come home, your house is normal, your food tastes the same as everyone else’s and really, your life is just.....common.

Heck, even Clark Kent was common when he wasn’t leaping tall buildings with a single bound. Right?

But you know what? I think the enemy whispers the same lie to all of us, no matter what day job we hold, no matter how many kids we come home to, no matter what our salary is or how flashy the car is that we drive. No matter if you flip burgers for a living or flip out $100 bills to pay for your breakfast.

It starts as we begin to feel the Lord drawing us to a closer relationship with Him. We see clearly that God is calling us to be set apart, to walk differently, to speak on a more candid level about our faith, to love the people around us that are really hard to love.

For each of us, this calling is different yet deeply personal. Maybe God’s calling you to start a lunch time Bible Study at work. Maybe He’s asking you to walk across the street to that cranky old lady and be her friend. Maybe He’s nudging you to tell that family member, who rejects everything about the gospel, the truth of your relationship with Him. Maybe He’s moving you to increase the size of your family. Maybe He’s beckoning you to the mission field.

For whatever God is desiring for each of us, He equips us to accomplish His work with scripture, confidence and authority by the Holy Spirit. Secure in our new task, we cinch up our pants, take a step out onto this new ground and the lies begin.

“What are you doing? You can’t do this. Why do you think you can? Don’t you realize that you are nothing special? This is huge and you’re just so.....common.”

And it occurs to us that maybe we are just a common person. Fear grips us, the idea of radical change baffles our minds and we become sold on the lie that we are common.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

When God meets us where we are and invites us to know Him in a deep and intimate way, we shed all things common about us. We shed the sin of our commonality and our past self. We shed the inability to be used for the glory of the Lord.

In essence we become quite uncommon. In Acts 10:15 the word common is used interchangeably for the word unclean. And I’d like to assert that when we buy into the lies the enemy so fervently yells in our direction, we are also buying into the lie that we too are unclean.

My friends, if you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, nothing could be further from the truth. And do you see the amazing parallel between being unclean and being common? Whether you consider yourself unclean or merely common, you are placing yourself in a position to accomplish nothing for the glory of God.

The truth is, whatever God is beckoning you to at this moment it is worth pursuing. Don’t let the enemy’s lies of your worthlessness, your uncleanliness and your commonality rob you of the joy found in obedience to God’s purpose for your life.

Flee from a common life. And when the enemy begins to whisper to you the lies and pains of your past and tries to convince you that you cannot possibly accomplish all that the Lord has laid out before you, remind yourself that you are anything but common.

Because, “For what God has made clean, do not call common.”

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here to there

The hacking, wet cough echos through the house. I lay perfectly still and try to keep the bed from creaking so I can discern exactly who is making the wretched noise.

I fumble through the medicine box that we keep in the cabinet above the fish tank. 1 teaspoon of medicine fills the syringe. I shuffle back upstairs and gently rouse my red-haired girl, coaxing her to swallow.

Even in the darkness of night and the fog of my tired brain, I ask myself, "Will it be like this there too? What if I run out of meds when the kids are sick and don't have time to go to the city to get more? Is it like here where I can just run out and get more?"

Fevers plague the next day. I talk to my Mom who rushes chicken and rice soup to our aid. It warms our tummies, unclogs our noses and brings immediate relief to these nagging colds.

She won't be there. Neither will her soup.

How can I do it without her? Tears burn my eyes.

I open the package of noodles and pour them into the boiling pot. Repeat 4 more times. As the pot boils I know it won't be this easy there.

Drain the water. Add the chicken flavoring.

Nope. It will be much harder there. No Ramen noodles for an easy lunch. And sandwiches? Rarely maybe. Especially if I'm making my own bread.

It's 5:30 and Luke's on his way home already. Dinner hasn't even crossed my mind for the day. Breakfast for dinner is an easy fix. Quick. Satisfying. Easy. The frozen mist of the freezer blows in my face as I search for biscuits.

None.

I remember the book I bought at Candidate Week and grab it from the bookshelf. "I'll just make my own biscuits. Just like I'd do there. Can't be that hard, can it?"

Dang it. I don't own a sifter. Or cream of tartar.

Fine. I'll make pancakes and bacon. I grab the sack of premixed pancake mix and add water, from our tap.

"I can't use tapwater there, can I? Not for pancakes. I'd have to boil the water first. Ha! I won't even have premixed pancake mix!" I look at the recipe for pancakes in my cookbook. Yeah, that'll take more than 30 seconds to make.

Water rushes from the kitchen sink's tap. Clean, drinkable, cookable water.

here.

there.

With nearly every step of my day, I try to wrap my mind around what life will be like there, in comparison to how it is here. I can't. How do you wrap your mind around the barely known? How do I begin to understand the severity with which my world will be rocked?

It's cold outside so I make myself a chai for the ride. I grab my Bible, my Marriage study book, the keys and my bag. I kiss Luke goodbye. I drive to her house, pick up my BFF and we head to the coffee shop. Four of my Bible study girls are already waiting in our little room in the back.

I sit and soak in their presence, glad to be with my girls. 3 more walk in. We laugh. We talk about life. We understand each other. We pray.

They won't be there either.

None of it will be the same as it is here.

How will I make it? How can I go and leave this all behind?

How can I NOT go? How can I stay here knowing they are there, needing to know about Him?

Daily, often minute by minute, it's a struggle between what's here and what's there. Knowing what I'm leaving here and longing for what will happen there. Praying that He will provide the peace for what I'm leaving here and the courage to face the unknowns that live there.

And I find it not at all coincidental that the only difference between the words here and there is a cross.

here
there

Do you see that? Do you get it? Let me know when you fully grasp what that means, friends. What does that mean for you? Where is your here? Where is your there? How does the cross take you from one place to the other?

My heart aches for Africa, yearning to be in her midst and working with her people. But I mourn for what I know I'll miss. The people I love. Not the stuff or the convenience - though those things are nice.

here
there

The cross got me here. Now it's taking me there.