In the Corrie Ten Boom Museum in the Netherlands, I saw a picture in an upstairs hallway of Corrie standing on a road with a suitcase in hand and a smile on her face, the caption underneath reading, “Corrie, tramp for the Lord”. Corrie traveled extensively sharing her story of The Hiding Place with the entire world, speaking in an untold number of places, talking about tolerance, compassion, and diversity with whoever would listen. I loved this picture and felt an immediate affinity for what it represented. Being a traveling minister myself, I thought this picture was hilariously funny and immediately decided I too, was a tramp for the Lord.
As of today, I have been on the road with my backpack for one month, one-twelfth of the whole year. By the time I am done with this trip and adding in all the other travel I have done for the book in the last twelve month period, it probably comes close to one-sixth of the year. I think this definitely gives me “Tramp for the Lord” status. This pleases me.
In addition to being greatly amused by this new title, it has also given me an opportunity to think about what being a tramp for the Lord means. Going into this ministry trip, I knew the hardest part would not be all the moving from place to place or carrying the backpack, which I am told is probably at least fifty pounds, but that it would be handling the roles of speaker, guest, representative, and author on a nearly constant basis for almost six weeks straight. It’s an admittedly, tall order.
When traveling on a journey like this, you aren’t your own person, your time is not yours to use as you wish. When you are a tramp for the Lord, you lay down some of your own desires, preferences, and even needs. You give when you think you can’t give anymore. You engage with people when you would rather disengage and sneak off to be alone. You put one foot in front of another when you would rather sit down. It is very much a laying of one’s life on the altar, giving it up, casting your net out on the water, and praying, “Not my will by thine be done.”
I’m not saying that it’s not fun. I’m not telling you that there aren’t times when I have more freedom to go do as I choose than at others when I’m on someone else’s schedule or that I haven’t had delightful periods of peaceful rest. I’m not saying I wouldn’t do it all over again in a heartbeat, that all the things I have seen, explored, and learned are not entirely worth all the planning and the daily challenge of being present. The rewards are more than worth the price. In fact, the Sunday before I left, friends at church said with generous sarcasm, “Way to carry the cross Sarah! Suffering for Christ in Europe!” And it’s not as if all my needs go unmet. But you never get as much time to rejuvenate as you would like, as much quiet without someone wanting to talk to you as you need. You have to learn in the fire when to keep going when you don’t think you can and when to excuse yourself for some rest. I probably error on the side of staying to talk with people but I know my time here is of limited duration and I need to be open while I can.
One image that has inspired me continually as I go along is that of scattering seeds in the fields I have the honor of passing through. Hanging against my hip is a “bag of seeds” and everywhere I go, I reach my hand in, grasp a handful, and throw them out among the furrows. I pray they take root. I pray they find a place to grow. I pray God brings along other people to water the seeds I’ve thrown. But where the seeds land and how they grow I will never know. My task is to walk through the fields faithfully, to throw the seeds lovingly, not to know what happens to them after I leave. But there is great pleasure in this, pleasure in knowing I get to throw the seeds and joy in being a planter in hands I adore. Tramping along the dirt roads beside stone walls, I do what needs to be done to get the seeds out there. I have faith God has reasons for exactly where I go.
So here I am, giving my time, my efforts, my life. Because that is what we do in the ministry and we are all ministers. We acknowledge that our lives are not about us. It’s about the larger story of God redeeming the world and everything in it, seed by seed. It’s about being a light of his everlasting and steadfast love, of his joy and inner peace. It’s about grace. But the great thing is though, that God takes care of his children. The Lord makes sure all our true needs are met while we scatter his seeds. Though we sacrifice our lives, God does not. He takes what we give and makes sure we have what we need. He gives us the space we did not expect to write in our journal, or take a walk by the sea, or a train ride that’s quiet, or makes sure an activity is more life-giving than we thought it would be. I know I’m in good hands. I am still a whole person and God respects that more than anyone else. But if I am not willing to sacrifice for a greater good, what is my faith worth, let alone the service I give? We all want to leave behind us something larger than ourselves, something lasting longer than our lifetime. The Bible tells us to die to self so we can live, a verse I think Corrie must have liked and I am proud to walk under the same banner, a tramp for the Lord.
