After a journeyman-style of road trips in recent weeks, I returned to The Destiny Trust Home to visit the kids I’ve spent much of my life with in the last three years. While I’ve not been a constant figure in their lives in the last year, apparently I’ve been missed, sort of.
What I found amazing was that, after they nearly hugged me to death, one of them took it upon himself to narrate to me their successes in school. This person came first. This person came second alongside this person. A certain person who wasn’t so good is now third in her class. No one failed.
Of course, considering how laborious the education of these kids has been to everyone of us concerned, I was extremely delighted. And proud, yes. Of course.
I was baffled, however, by the fact that the kids decided to give me that piece of information first, before telling me about their numerous outings and parties. That’s how I went to sleep, wondering.
Wondering, until I read this post by Ekaete Hunter. In there, she asks some salient questions that have really bugged my mind for years, and conditioned my reactions to God’s love for me. Over the years, the greatest realisation for me has been the fact that God gave up everything for me, and I ought to adequately make use of the complete deposits of grace I have received.
After reading, I understood. After weeks upon weeks of burning the midnight candle with the kids, encouraging them to continue to push for better grades in school, it was good for me to know that they now perform really well in school.
They knew it too, the kids. I had no business in their grades. It did me no good, neither did it present to me another advantage of a job opportunity. But I believe they noticed that, despite the fact that I didn’t have any thing to gain from their academic excellence personally, I studied with them, for them, on their behalf, like I was going through the exact same struggle. And even though they knew I loved them no matter their school grades, poor or excellent, they struggled to get results that would make me happy. Ultimately, their grades are for their own good. But it encouraged me that I had not done anything in vain.
They say to whom much is given, much is expected. I call these returns on investment, responses that matter. They matter, like turning five talents into ten, or two to four. They matter, like getting great grades after your uncle has helped you read and be motivated.
They matter, like endeavouring to get that Christ in totality, living up to his fullness by letting go of your self, for a greater glory in Him.
Those responses, they matter. They matter to the giver of the gift how well and good you have used the gift.
There’s no joy in the intrinsic goodness of a gift or sacrifice outside of an understanding of its purpose and usefulness, and a proper and guided application of its use to meet the need.