There’s a part of Kingdom work that many people don’t really talk about. Some might not even consider it as an issue.
But when you step into the lives of the “least of these,” you don’t just encounter people and their stories, you encounter environments. You sit close. You listen long. You shake hands, share meals, hug shoulders that haven’t felt safe in years. You share in their world, without being “too good” or “too clean” or “too uncomfortable” to step into their reality. You step into spaces most people avoid. And with that… comes a cost.
Most recently, for my family, it was a TB scare. And without fail, the first thing that comes to mind is “Oh no! Who else might now have been affected by this??” The fear immediately strikes, realizing what you have personally committed to might cost others. COVID taught us how easily illness spreads, unknowingly, even with vast measures being practiced.
Beyond the occasional serious scare, the most prominent reality is the constant cycle of being worn out, mentally and emotionally. Then there’s the issue of nearly always being sick, much more often than you might expect. It’s the constant feeling of being physically drained because your body is carrying more than just your own load.
There are days when the fatigue hits hard and deep; you begin to know how to recognize when your immune system is working overtime just to keep up with the environments you’re willingly stepping into. That’s the part nobody really chats about. The sacrifice that you willingly choose to make, which unfortunately affects everyone else who loves you... also not mentioned.
But here’s the thing… I wouldn’t trade it.
Because on the other side of all these risks, on the other side of the exhaustion, the germs, the unpredictability, the unknown... is something far greater; it’s the moment a man who trusts literally no one looks at you and says, “I love you, bro,” and means it. The moment that someone, who has been hardened by years of calloused life on the streets casually walks over and gives you a hug and says “I don’t know how I could ever pay you back. But I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”
It’s watching walls come tumbling down that have been propped up for decades.
It’s seeing dignity return to someone who’s been treated like they don’t matter and eventually chose to believe it.
It’s being present in the exact kind of places that Jesus chose to walk into, without hesitation, without fear of contamination, without concern for His own comfort.
You may have heard me talk about this a few times in the past, but there’s something about proximity that literally changes everything.
You can’t genuinely love people like this from a distance. It isn’t possible and it simply doesn’t work. Real love requires closeness, and closeness comes with cost.
And like I said in one of my most recent posts, maybe that’s the point. Jesus never called us to love based on safety; He called us to sacrificial love. The kind that risks something. The kind that gets tired. The kind that occasionally shares in the trauma and illness from folks that are being served. The kind that doesn’t keep score of what it might lose, because it’s too focused on what’s being gained in someone else’s life.
So yes… there’s risk.
There’s health and safety scares.
There’s fatigue. Real fatigue.
There are days where every ounce of your being feels it.
But there’s also amazing life. Real life. The kind you don’t find staying comfortable.
And every time I weigh the cost/reward, it’s not even close.
I’ll take the risk. I’ll accept the love being returned. I’ll continue working diligently in our family business, serving my Father. Every single time.
~ Devin
Devin Osborne
The Early Church
