Well Done (Insert Sarcasm)
I was talking to a couple of students in my office today. One was an Adventist, the other was not even a church-goer—which is a recurring pattern I've been seeing. And it is beautiful. It's rather awesome how God has worked to merge lives together. The deep truth now, though, is that this can either be the sealing of two or the undoing of a pair. Depending upon their decisions and interactions, and how resolute the cedar of Lebanon is—how near the water, how deeply its roots dispersed through and into the earth—there could well be two souls out of the Kingdom, rather than one added. Pray, readers, that those on God's side will hear His whisperings and learn to live in His love, so that their friend will become their compatriot, and both will come Home.
The non-Adventist friend of mine was saying something to the effect of “Yeah, I don't get why you pastors do that. Why would you go so far away—from where they don't even have Vegemite—not even getting paid, to the complete other side of the world to do this?” I began to sputter some kind of answer, trying to get somewhere about how I ended up there instead of like some third world type place, and I guess I was going to go from there to how God called me, and maybe I was thinking about going on to “saving souls” or some rubbish like that, but it ended up being drowned out and skipped around, and diversion took the whole question, the whole moment away.
Peter counsels us to be ready at every moment to give a reason for the hope we have (1 Peter 3:15). This was one of those moments that people who are passionate about Jesus crave like Adventists crave haystacks. It was the perfect opportunity, THE reason I am here in Tasmania, and I had no response. I HAD NO RESPONSE?!!! This is the thing I live for! Hello, His name is JESUS!
In the end, I'm thankful I went tongue-tied and lip-flop like I'd just gotten dental work done. Why? Because the next words of that statement Peter makes go like this “with gentleness and respect.” I figure I would have done one of the following if God had let me go on:
1. Disrespected the student, making it sound like I was better than him.
2. Become another cliché and “yeah, whatever” pastor who lost any chance of touching him
3. The portrait of Jesus would have suffered another blurring—and we already do enough damage to the picture He's painting when we try to pick up the brush!
There was another one, but I forgot. But the real thing is this: what am I doing here if I don't even know how to answer that question? It really made me start thinking about where I am spiritually, and I think I'm a fish living in a centimeter of water—it's not really working. How hard is it to say “Jesus”? All I had to do was start there and the rest would have come:
“It's Jesus, man. Maybe you haven't gotten a good look at what it looks like when people really get a good look at what Jesus did for us, a good feel for what His love is like. But let me tell you, when you have felt it, and you really get an idea of who this Jesus really is, it changes you. And all you want to do is whatever He asks. And you want other people to know the love He has for them. So when He calls you to go somewhere, you go. The money doesn't matter—I was going to go to a place with no running water or electricity. I would've been drinking rain water and eating rice! But I don't care where I end up or what food I do or don't have. I just want to tell people about Jesus. And wherever He ends up thinking I should be, that's where I'm going.”
I had no idea what I was going to write there. I just started with “It's Jesus, man.” But if that had been all I said, it would have been the right answer. The example of Jesus is always the right answer.
Then I started thinking a little bit more. And I began to wonder whether the question really was so easy to answer. “Why AM I here?” What am I doing? Obviously, I have already forgotten. I have the right answer, “Jesus,” and that's the reason I'm hanging out with the kids and trying to make the spiritual components better—but is it just a cliché to me? Does it mean anything in my heart? Does it really mean anything when I wake up in the morning? When I'm playing with the kids? When I'm having a conversation with them? When I get home in the evenings and choose what to do with the hours I have left?
To be honest, where I've been lately, who I've been lately, I don't know why I'm here. With the life I've been living, the passion I haven't had, it's pretty pointless. I'm not really sure why I'm living—I don't think it's been for God.
I'm tired of random Christ encounters. I want to fall down at His feet in awe every morning. I want to hear His whispers of love and guidance every moment. I want to think with His mind, feel with His heart, and see the world through His eyes every minute. I want to keep Him on my mind, and seek to know Him in every decision. “Trust in the LORD with all your heart; lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways know Him, and He will make your paths straight.” More on that verse later.
Last Thought
~While we were still sinners, He endured the shame; how can I ever be ashamed?
-Colton J. Stollenmaier, M.I.A.
Feeling the pain of our inadequacy is the first step to real Christian living.
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