The Song She Couldn't Simply Sing

In 1874, English hymn writer Frances Ridley Havergal penned the words that would become one of Christianity's most beloved consecration hymns: Take My Life and Let It Be. She was already a celebrated musician — a gifted pianist and vocalist who could sing Handel from memory and read several languages. But those elegant lyrics she had composed began to haunt her.

"Take my silver and my gold, not a mite would I withhold." Frances realized she could not keep singing those words on Sunday and living as though she had never written them. So she did something that stunned her friends. She gathered up her jewelry — fine pieces she had collected over a lifetime — packed them into a box, and sent them to the Church Missionary Society. "I never packed a box with such pleasure," she later wrote.

But she did not stop there. She dedicated her musical gifts entirely to sacred work, turning down lucrative opportunities that would have made her comfortable. Every note, every performance, every composition became an offering laid at the feet of El Shaddai.

There is a kind of faith that sings about sacrifice from a safe distance, and there is a kind that opens the jewelry box. The Almighty does not demand that we all give away the same things. But He does ask this: Are the words on your lips on Sunday morning shaping the life you live on Monday? Sacrifice becomes real only when the song moves from our mouths to our hands.