Over the years I’ve been privileged to hear missionaries recount various interesting anecdotes and facts, but one, in particular, has remained over time in the forefront of my mind, because of the powerful principle it represents in how God often prepares us for maximum effectiveness for His service.

Years ago I was struck by the fact that brand new missionary aircraft are stripped of any non-essential material, to reduce the overall weight, in order that the plane might fly faster, farther and carry more needed supplies. It’s a powerful image to envision a direct from the manufacturer aircraft having seat cushions, headliners, dash boards…anything non-essential torn from its hinges and discarded. And yet I believe that often God must remove the “excess payload” in our lives, “stripping off every weight that slows us down” (Hebrews 12:1) in order that we might soar faster, farther and offer more in His name and for His glory.

However, admittedly this can be a painfully lonely, unsettling, and humbling process, as we are stripped of our:

• Normal routines
• Closest relationships
• Familiar surroundings
• And cherished identity

in preparation for a new God-ordained destination in our lives.

Pastor Charles Swindoll recounts such an instance in his own life in the book “A Life Well Lived,”

July 1, 1994 began a period that I can best describe as a long, cold winter – a stark lonely season during which I found myself without all the things that gave me comfort, purpose, meaning and identify. It helped a little that I had entered this season willingly. It was a necessary transition from a very successful, almost twenty-three years in Fullerton, California, to an uncertain future in Dallas, Texas. I never doubted that I was where the Lord would have me and I knew it would be difficult, but I never imagined just how much it would challenge my character and stretch my faith. I felt more than lonely. I felt alone.

I was living in a small apartment over a friend’s garage while pouring myself into my new duties as president of Dallas Theological Seminary, the institution that had launched me into ministry thirty-one years earlier. The world of academic theology, while strange to me, was stimulating. Those with whom I worked could not have been more gracious or kind…but nothing was familiar. It would be another two years before we could move the headquarters of Insight for Living from California to Texas, so my wife Cynthia had to divide her time between Anaheim and Dallas. That left me with a lot of solitude, something I typically enjoy. But this was far more than I had anticipated or wanted. I was separated from all my children and grandchildren for the first time since they were born. The deep friendships I had cultivated for twenty-three years were fifteen hundred miles away. The home we had lived in and enjoyed belonged to someone else, and the ministry that had given me such joy and fulfillment was now only a memory. Moreover, I was a shepherd without sheep. That loss kept me on my face before God.”

Like Pastor Swindoll, the Apostle Paul also allowed discomfort to draw himself to God,

“So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” (2 Cor. 12:7-9)

Where did Paul go? He didn’t go to Timothy, Titus or some other friend. He didn’t look to an earthly formula, man-made therapy or technique to find the path to comfort. No, he went to the Lord. That was and is the right response, and itself the rationale for God stripping away the excess in our lives: that we would find our sufficiency in Him alone. Is this stripping away a humbling process? Without a doubt. However, God must have humble servants. As Charles Spurgeon once said, “You have two choices. You can either be humble or humbled.”