I heard the helicopters flying outside my apartment. Peering out the window I counted: One, Two, Three, Four, Five.

Were there more through the trees?

A few minutes later another one flew overhead.

What was going on?

It took me a few minutes to remember.

Oh right!

The funeral.

Not long ago there was a bit of a crime spree in my area. Random. Unexplainable. A man shot people, high-jacked cars, a terrifying jolt to an otherwise peaceful community. A frightening manhunt across towns.

I first heard about what was going on in the car with my dad. He was driving me back and forth to a few doctor appointments while my mom watched my daughter. We were on the freeway and all of a sudden several police vehicles started flying down the fast lane, another every few minutes. That was when my Dad told me about the shooting earlier in the day, and that with the response he was seeing it was most likely had something to do with the same situation.

When a cop gets shot, everyone, everywhere runs to the scene.

And that day? Four people were shot, three were cops, two officers died.

Two men died, men with wives, children. My heart ached for them. These men that laid down their lives, these families who made an ultimate sacrifice that I couldn’t even comprehend.

It was on Tuesday the Helicopters flew overhead, shadows over a processional escorting a man to his final resting place.

My Dad went down to see the procession, the police vehicle lights flashing in honor of their fallen comrade.

It took a full forty-five minutes for the stream to pass by.

That day I walked down to a church on the corner and cast my vote.

Cast my vote. A right I can easily take for granted. A right many lost their lives for me to have.

Laid down their lives in sacrifice.

 Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John 15:13

I stand on the shoulders of those who have laid down their lives for me.

People I’ve never met, people who don’t know me at all. And One who does.

I’m not worthy of the sacrifice.

I’m not worthy of HIS sacrifice.

Yet the choice was made.

A soldier doesn’t intend to die, neither does a police officer. They hope to live, and while they live they seek to protect. Still they know that the risk is there.

And so they risk their lives every day. Willingly, knowingly.

But Christ? This Savior that I have?

He didn’t come to “risk” His life.

There was no risk. He came in fully knowing that there was no risk.

He came to GIVE His life.

He had no intention of surviving. He knew that death would come to Him, and He embraced it for my sake.

I type these words today and I realize that I stand on the shoulders of all those who have laid down lives for my sake. All those who have sacrificed.

I type these words and I realize I stand on the shoulders of those who sacrificed tears for me, and pain in their heart. The sacrifice of friends, of family, of parents, of loved ones.

And I stand on His shoulders, His great, huge, sure and strong shoulders. I stand knowing I was not worth the sacrifice.

Except He made me worth the sacrifice, He made me worthy of it by His love.

Because being worthy of sacrifice has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the person who is making the sacrifice.

So today I am grateful for sacrifice. The sacrifice of men and women who go out every day to stand between me and harm. The sacrifice of those who willingly invest their heart in me. The sacrifice of a Savior who looked at me and said, “This one, I love her, and she is worth everything I can give. This one!”

Today I am Grateful for Sacrifice.

Joy Aletheia Stevens

Photo Credit: Adapted from badge-close up by Scott Davidson (CC BY 2.0)