by Paula Mowery

writerpaula@gmail.com 

Sara Goff has experienced moving from comfortable to compelled in her Christian walk. Sara is a writer and the founder of Lift the Lid, Inc. She currently lives in London with her husband, son, and Yorkshire terrier, but home is Gramercy Park in Manhattan. The following is the description of her journey in her own words.

I believe God is always ‘calling’ us. He is behind every beat of our heart, in every cell of our body. He doesn’t make surprise visits, hoping we might follow Him, and then disappears until He decides to call again. From the moment of our conception until we surrender our bodies for the afterlife, He’s calling us with His love. Do we immediately recognize His presence and dedicate our lives to His commandments? Not at all. It can take someone a lifetime to understand the depth of His love, to see the miracles in His creation, and believe in the power of His persistent whisper. Luckily, we are not judged by the speed of our faith, but by the sincerity of our heart when we accept Him.

I was in my mid-twenties when it struck me that nothing I did in life mattered as much as helping others. One evening, while living a life of materialism in Manhattan, I broke down crying to God. I felt so consumed with emptiness, I couldn’t bear it. I had spent years working long hours in the fashion industry, while trying to love a boyfriend who didn’t love me. It seemed I had given all of myself, receiving nothing real in return.

The night I surrendered to God, I gave what little was left of myself to Him and prayed, "Take my life! Do something meaningful with it, whatever you want. Send me the opportunity, and I’ll follow!" I felt baptized in my own tears, but otherwise nothing happened. There I was, alone, sitting on the floor of my apartment, with the sounds of the city, extraneous horns and voices, carrying on outside my window.

Nothing happened until I made a change. I stepped outside the perceived security of having a ‘good’ job and a ‘serious’ boyfriend. I started working in a nightclub to pay my living expenses, and during the day, I wrote for a local quarterly magazine. My first article earned me a membership to The National Arts Club, which opened a door to working with kids in inner-city schools. I shared with them the creative process of writing and the power of self-expression. Having my days free, I was able to volunteer at Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen, which led me to their writer’s workshop for the homeless, founded by author Ian Frazier. Now I was making a difference in other people’s lives. I felt whole and was happy.

Was it difficult making these changes? Did I have doubts? Yes! What if I couldn’t pay my mortgage . . . and had to foreclose on my apartment? What if I couldn’t find another boyfriend . . . and was doomed to spend my life alone? Once I settled into my new life, a single woman, working nights and writing in the day, those fears faded. Opportunities took their place, new experiences, new friends, and new fears, as well. I’ll never forget going into my first inner-city high school, passing through a metal detector, signing in with security. Why would these kids, many of whom endured more stress in one day than I did throughout my entire upbringing, want me to walk into their classroom, into their lives, and ask them to write? It was the same with the homeless shelter. Why would homeless men and women with far more life-experience than I had in my twenties, want to hear what I had to say about life and the personal essay? Did they listen? Did they write? Yes. And we all learned that we had something to say, and that we were worthy of being heard.

Ten years later, my husband Jonas and I moved to Stockholm, Sweden for his work. (He is Swedish.) Our son was only three months old. Now we live in London. I miss my family and friends . . . the high schools and the soup kitchen where I felt established and appreciated. Again, I had to leave my comfort zone and forge a new path. This time, I thought outside of my immediate community, knowing that we might be moving again. During a trip to Kenya, I made friends with a couple who were trying to start a school in their rural area. I had another friend in Kenya who was fundraising for a school that needed aid to stay open. So, I started Lift the Lid, a global charity that raises money for schools while encouraging the students to write. I incorporated Lift the Lid as a non-profit, and Jonas built the website. We wired money for scanners and got the students writing. For every donation, a student writes a poem, personal statement, or short essay. The headmaster scans and sends it by email, often with a photo, to be published on Lift the Lid’s website. (Lift the Lid, Inc.)

Have I had doubts throughout this new endeavor? Yes! It’s taken hours of work and continues to take hours of work. I’ve had to learn how to establish a non-profit, how to maintain a website, and how to fundraise. My nature is to give, not take. Fundraising is something I struggle with and pray about daily. But it’s worth it when I read the students’ writing, see them dare to express themselves, and give them the opportunity to be heard!

My favorite parable in the Bible is John 5. The story goes: men and women wait by a pool called Bethesda. They are blind, sick, and lame. An angel of the Lord comes down once a year and stirs the waters. The first one to jump into the stirred water is healed. After waiting 38 years, a lame man is approached by a healthy man who asks him, do you not wish to get well? The lame man replies that he is not fast enough and every year someone jumps into the water before him. So he waits. The healthy man replies, "Get up, pick up your pallet, and walk." John 5: 6 (NASB) Immediately, the man does so and can work again. Afterward, the healed man learns that it was Jesus who had approached him.

We do not have to wait 38 years for a personal invitation from Jesus to accept His healing. When we are ready we stand up and jump into the ‘stirred water.’ I could have hung onto my career in fashion, continued climbing the ranks, and ignored the cry in my heart to share my love of writing with those who have been denied a voice in society. I could have stood by and watched other people ‘jump into the water,’ making great sacrifices to improve the lives of others and reap the miracle of their smiles. Just like the man who stands and jumps, when I was ready to have faith and change my life, God was there. He was there all along.

You can learn more about Sara and schools Lift the Lid supports at

www.saragoff.com

 © Paula Mowery