The Cost of a Sacrifice
I don’t remember the year. All I remember is that my former camper, Moriah, was back after many summers gone. This time around though, she was different. She was older, of course, but she had also come back as a gang member. The little-girl innocence had disappeared; and so had her smile. Every day that summer, she was clad in a red bandana, committed to representing her new-found identity. Nothing would make her give it up. She was tough now, and I doubted whether I, or even God, could get through to her.
The session finally came to a close, and on our last night, we decided to have two separate campfires: one for the girls and the other for the boys. Our spot was in the chapel. We redecorated to make it look like a sanctuary. We put up an altar, a large wooden cross, some pretty fabric and candles. The topic that night was about the woman who anointed Jesus when she poured her alabaster box of perfume on His feet. We talked about the cost of a sacrifice. We sang, we danced, we shared stories, and some of us even wept. Before going to bed, we had the girls write notes on pieces of paper. On each note written was what we were choosing to give up to God. That night, each girl left her folded note at the foot of the cross. Surely, we were on Holy Ground.
Early the next morning, I walked into the chapel. The sweet residue of God’s presence still lingered in the air. I could feel it. I walked up to the front of the sanctuary. There, lying at the foot of the cross, surrounded by scattered paper notes, was a red bandana. The fact that it was there wasn’t what struck me. It was the way it was placed there. It was soiled and stained, but neatly and carefully folded. Like the perfumed oil poured on Jesus feet, I could tell this sacrifice wasn’t easily given. This sacrifice cost her something. Not only was it painful; it was intentional.
So this is what I learned: Any sacrifice made for God, whether it be our lifestyle, hairstyle, body, or identity . . . is never easy, but it is worth it. We are so precious to God. He values our sacrifices. Thank you Camp Deerpark, for always being a place set and ready for the presence of God to fall. Thanks Moriah, for laying your life at the cross that night; just as you did it then, may we also be reminded to do it daily. And of course, thank you Jesus, for the greatest, most precious, and most intentional sacrifice of all . . .You.
Celmali Jaime Okonji, program director in 2006–7, attended Evangelical Garifuna Church and King of Glory Tabernacle, both in the Bronx.