My Heart Aches

a liturgy for counting the cost

Father,
when I left my passport country,
I thought I had considered
something of the cost 
of being thousands of miles from my family, 
of living in a different culture
and environment, 
of facing opposition for my values, 
of the resources needed
to facilitate my transition 
to the other side of the globe.

But, when I hear my family member ask,
“Are you done with living over there, yet?” 
and she sends the classified Ads
for jobs in their area, 
or a leader wonders why I’m teaching there 
when “we have so many needs here,” 
the cost of serving overseas 
cuts a little closer to the bone, and home,
than when I somewhat naively, zealously, 
said, “Sure, send me!”

Your name is at stake.
But my heart does ache.

Over two decades into it,
I don’t want to be
someone who started to build, 
and didn’t finish well. 
I see this stark reminder 
in a few construction sites here,
some shells left empty
and incomplete— 
useless towers left bankrupt.

Your name is at stake.
But my heart does ache.

I confess my understanding
of the cost
was limited 
by my naiveté, time, excitement, pride,
my “self.”
Please give me the vision and willingness
to die to self, 
as I follow,
despite the unknowns of ailing parents,
or missing my loved one’s lead role
in her high school play, 
or hearing my relative’s realization
that I wasn’t there
for that special Christmas memory,
or having hometown relationships somewhat cool
from the distance of years
living apart.

Your name is at stake.
But my heart does ache.

Remind me that You experienced
thirty-three years of it. 
The distance traveled 
and cost
of that trip
can’t be compared— 
all that You bore for me,
including a heart aching for time 
with Your Father,
yet You finished it, 
completely.

So, help homesickness to push me closer
to my true Home,
to deeper love 
for You,
for those in my classroom,
and for those still in my hometown. 
Please continue to grant me the desire
to bring more Home with me. 
I confess I need a touch to persevere 
and finish many todays well. 
Thanks for enduring
for the joy set before You. 
Thanks for the cloud cheering us on.

Your name is at stake.
So You have born the ache.

Thanks for completing the work
In me.

Amen.

Further exploration

You can find a printable version of this liturgy here: My Heart Aches.

Post Author

Stephany has lived and worked outside her home country for more than 20 years.

Series Editor

Erika McIntyre

---

Image designed by Elaine Liu.