Urbana 06: December 30, Morning Session
Financial SacrificeNikki Toyama
In college, I was very confused. One week, I was pre-med, the next, business, studio art design. I went through every major at Stanford, looking for some direction. There was Jesus, of course, He gives us direction. But was there something more specific that I should know?
Until I figure out what I’m supposed to do, I’ll follow God to the best of my abilites, and I’ll have fun. I graduated in mechanical engineering. I took a job with an engineering firm. I did well – really well. I was on a team of engineers and we helped develop a brand new medical device. It was a pioneer in the treatment of heart disease. We sold it to a company that wanted to take it to market. It was the highest price paid for a patent in its field.
As one of three engineers, I was entitled to a percentage of the profits – a royalty. At that time, I was considering a job change – moving into full-time ministry with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. The deal came in just one month after I had made the decision to make that move. I was ecstatic. It felt like a confirmation – God’s way of setting me up.
My royalty was estimated at between one and three million dollars. It was all coming together perfectly. That’s when the perfect plan began to unravel. I told my company about my plan to leave. They told me, “Nikki, if you go, you won’t receive the royalty.” We argued. There was confusion – who said what when to whom.
“Stay one more year: the product goes to market, secure your royalty. Leave now and the money is gone.”
I agonized over it. I rationalized. I came up with some really good, really convincing reasons why I should stay: support tons of missionaries, start good charities. But when I was honest, here was the only reason that I would stay in my job: to get the money. To choose to stay for money has another word: idolatry.
I left my job to go into ministry as planned. I left without a promise of royalty, and the royalty never came. To tell you the truth, when I said no, I fully expected to get the royalty. I imagined God saying, “Good job, Nikki! You passed the test. You were faithful in little, I will give you even more.” I felt entitled to God’s blessing, entitled to His favor, because I was trying so hard to be faithful to Him. God owed me.
That summer, after my first year on InterVarsity staff, I went on a missions trip to Cairo, Nairobi and Bangkok with the Global Urban Trek. There, I discovered something chilling, something haunting, and it’s never let me go.
In Cairo, Christians in the garbage village tattoo a cross on their wrist when they are young. It demonstrates their commitment to Christ. If they were to cut out that cross, they would slit their wrist. They would rather die than deny Jesus as their Lord. This is no small claim in a Muslim country.
The next week, we left for Bangkok, and the image of those crosses was still haunting me. In the red light district, I met a woman. We talked of family and of hopes and of dreams. When I left, she grabbed my arm with both hands and she thanked me for our conversation. It was just a mundane conversation. As I rounded the corner to return home, my guard began to lower, and I sat on that wet Bangkok pavement and wept. I cried for the women in Bangkok and for the children in the garbage village. As I began to weep, God began to etch His heart on my wrist: the faces of the urban poor.
I could no longer deny them than deny my own existence. My life will forever be tied up with that of the urban poor. What does that look like? I haven’t a clue. God is slowly bringing parts of it into focus.
I have to wonder if I had three million dollars sitting in a bank account back home in the states, would I have been able to hear that call? Or would I have been defensive when hearing about economic injustice in this world, knowing that I – one small woman in the U.S. – held a disproportionate amount of wealth?
I used to think that God withheld His blessing because I did not get the royalty. Instead, He withheld it to give me something far more priceless: an invitation to be a part of His work in the world. I almost missed God’s invitation to be a part of His redemptive work in this world, to be good news and to announce good news to people whose economic situations or whose history make it hard for them to believe that the good news is actually good.
Following Jesus is costly, but not following Jesus is far more costly. If we free Him from the obligation of our expectations, we open ourselves up to God’s beautiful invitation beyond. I felt entitled to whatever money I could make to fulfill my economic potential. But behind the illusion of entitlement lies an invitation from God. What does God owe me? Nothing. But He has given me everything in Jesus Christ.
(From http://www.urbana.org/u2003.session.segment.cfm?segment=74&session=7&ItemTypeID=1)