Last year, my mom sent me a stack of old letters that my dad had written to her when he was in graduate school in 1980. He had gone to Florida for six weeks, leaving my mom and me in North Carolina. I was shocked to read the following words in a letter that he had written when I was just an infant:



Giving over completely to God I believe means a sacrifice. You don’t sacrifice to God that which is of little value or low esteem. My family—you and Chris—are of very high value to me. In a real sense you are both my sacrifice to God. I believe he’s accepted it. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to someday see her tearfully walk up the airplane ramp with her husband to go to the mission field? God may call upon her to sacrifice family time for His work. I want her to be able to respond unhesitatingly to that call.

I couldn't believe it! My father had very specifically predicted my life’s course when I was only four months old! Was he some kind of modern-day prophet?!?

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was not so much a prediction as it was a decision. He had not merely guessed at how my life would turn out. He had determined which way he wanted me to go—the way of sacrifice.

The decision to serve the Lord is not a single one. It’s hundreds of thousands of decisions made habitually over many years. For me, it began with decisions I did not even make myself…going to church every Sunday, reading a Bible story and praying each night, attending a Christian school. These were life-altering decisions that my parents made for me.

But sometimes it’s those seemingly trivial decisions that become very important down the road. I remember countless spankings because of my refusal to speak to adults. Instead of saying, “Oh, she’s just shy. It’s a stage; she’ll get over it,” my parents forced me to be polite. And I am thankful for that training when I greet the first-time visitors each Sunday at our church. I still feel timid inside, but my parents helped me win that battle years ago. I can't help but wonder if I could have ever worked up the nerve on my own to knock on a stranger's door and give them the gospel; I seriously doubt it. My parents trained me to overcome my natural shyness so that it would not hinder me from doing the Lord's work one day.

Doing God’s will is not an “event” our children will encounter one day down the road. It’s today. It’s now. It means I can’t let Claire tell me “No!” It means I make her come when I call. It means I discipline her attitude, not simply her actions. Preparing my daughter for lifetime service to the Lord is an intimidating thought. But, thank the Lord, it’s brought about by one decision at a time, beginning with the “little things.”