Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Donating Blood Wasn't About Me

I wasn't planning on donating blood. The clock struck 3:10pm signaling the end of class, and I burst out the door to walk back to my apartment. The homework piled high, and I knew I needed to start right away in order to accomplish it by the end of the night.

As I turned the corner of the hall, my friend Nathan, who was sitting at a Red Cross blood donation registration table, yelled, "Rebekah!"

"Oh, hey, Nathan."

"Do you want to donate blood today?"

My face probably turned pale and my eyes widened. "No..." I hesitated, and I light-heartedly chuckled in hopes of leaving the donation registration table. But he continued. Ugh.

"Why not?"

"I'm afraid of needles."

Assuming that he would nod his head and let me get on with my day, I was stunned by his response. He went on to tell me why I shouldn't be afraid of a little prick in my skin, and that I would be saving lives by donating blood. I hated feeling guilt-tripped, but I kept listening.

I know, I know... went through my mind. I had heard it all before. But he kept pushing it. I swayed back-and-forth waiting for him for him to stop talking. He told me that by donating blood I would overcome one of my fears. A girl earlier in the day had done it, so why couldn't I? What was holding me back?

I had always WANTED to donate blood because I wanted to help save lives, but I was always afraid of the needle. I was afraid of becoming lightheaded and possibly passing out.

Then I realized something. My fears were pathetic. Was my comfort and safety more important than someone getting a blood transfusion that could potentially save his or her life? I couldn't let a little jab into my skin prevent me from giving life to someone else.

Others have suffered much worse for people's lives. Most prominently, Christ was whipped, speared and nailed to a cross to save billions of lives who would chose to follow Him. Isaiah 53:5 says, "But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed."

I know, I went from the pain of one little scar on your finger to the Son of God being tortured on the cross. A dramatic jump. But isn't it in the little things too, the little sufferings, that we relate to Christ and show our love for Him? It's not just the "big" sufferings.

By suffering for 6 minutes atop a black leather medical recliner I gave life to save someone's life (and really, I hardly felt any pain during this time). No, I wasn't stoned on the streets like Stephen. And no, I wasn't hung on a cross like Jesus. But it's not the location or severity of pain that matters. It's the raw act of giving of oneself, no matter what the discomfort or loss is, to give life to others that matters. That's what living selflessly looks like.

But I'm afraid to give of myself. That thought floats through my head on a daily basis, as I'm sure it does in your mind as well. Many times our fears can conquer our minds to tell us that we can't do this or that because it will risk our comfort. Yes, we may have the deepest desire to do something, but our fear overrules our desire.

I want to give blood, but I'm afraid that I'll experience too much physical pain.

I want to help the homeless, but I'm afraid that I won't know what to say around them and that I'll feel out of place.

I want to share the Gospel with my co-workers, but I'm afraid that I'll be mocked or challenged in my faith.

Our flesh hates discomfort, so it avoids it at all means possible. We live lives of comfort, waking up every morning to stay in our personal bubble we've created. We know our routine and we aren't willing to leave it, because something could go wrong that would threaten our well-being.

But Christ doesn't call us to live comfortably. He calls us to take risks and go outside of our boundaries into the unknown, trusting Him that He will pave the way through the darkness. He calls us to suffer on behalf of Him and our brothers and sisters so that He may be glorified.

2 Corinthians 4:8-12 says, "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body."

Our suffering is but a mere reflection of what Jesus suffered on the cross. We suffer for Him so that the message of the cross would be spread. Who else is more worth suffering for?

And we rejoice in our sufferings!

Romans 5:3-5 says, "More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."

I came to this conclusion. Suffering for Christ is the mark of humility and embodies Christ-like love to the fullest extent. It denies the self and says, "I'm enduring this for something greater than myself -- for the glory of God." And it doesn't have to be profound. You don't have to sell all of your belongings and give the money to an organization that fights poverty. But you can suffer in the everyday moments to bring glory to God. You can give your lunch to the woman who stands on the street everyday during the lunch hour. You can spend your afternoon assisting your roommate with a project instead of using the time for yourself.

I know, my minuscule experience donating blood hardly attests to suffering for Christ. One jab into my arm was hardly anything in the scheme of suffering.

But it is a starting point. And I learned so much through it.