"So from now on we regard no one from a worldy point of view..." ~2 Corinthians 5:16
I stared at the woman and willed her to open her mouth. She wouldn't. I gently pushed the spoon against her lips. They would not part. Her eyes stared at me -- I couldn't tell if it was a blank stare, or a malicious one. Either way, it was unsettling me. I shifted in my chair and tried to smile. Jesus, this is ridiculous! I don't have time for this!
"Kendall... Look again. What do you see?"
I looked. I saw a time-worn face; work-worn hands; and sorrow-worn eyes.
"That's My beloved, Kendall."
I blinked and looked again. Her? I knew God loved everybody, and loved them equally. And I also knew that He'd been revealing to me exactly how He felt about me. It was a kind of love I couldn't even begin to comprehend. He passionately longed after me, ached for me to come spend time with me, adored me. I was His beloved, His bride. But that was me. Surely not this woman? Surely He didn't long for her in the same way. Surely His affection for her was comparable to the peck on the cheek that estranged relatives awkwardly exchange at family reunions. Surely time had diminished some of the passion He had for her.
"That's My beloved. How will you treat the one I have called? The one I call holy? The one I call beautiful?"
I took a deep breath. Well, Lord, I can't really help her if she won't let me... So You have to open the mouth of Your beloved!"
"Open yours first."
A smile made its way to my lips as I said, "You have beautiful hair. And that's a wonderful color on you." I put down the spoonful I'd been working at for so long and got a fresh one. "This looks delicious. Would you like to try some?"
Her mouth opened.
The moment you first see Christ's beloved in the face of one person, you begin seeing His prize and His treasure everywhere. He has a story with each of them. He knows everything they've ever been through. Age does not affect His love whatsoever; some of the most poignant examples of Christ's beloved are seen in newborn babies and those about to enter their heavenly home. He is longing after each of them. He treasures them. He smiles and cries with them. All of them.
At times, I protest. "Not him, God. Why in the world would you want him?"
"Him."
And then, if I'm willing, He steps in and gives me "Jesus goggles." He shows me what He sees in these men and women, boys and girls. It never fails to take my breath away.
"Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves... Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality... Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." (Romans 12:10, 12, 15)
I firmly believe we would treat people much differently if we always chose to see them as Christ sees them: Worthy. Longed after. Beloved.
May the eyes of our hearts be opened.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Exercise and Extreme Missions
I love reading pretty much the entire content of mission websites. It really opens my eyes and my heart to the nations and their needs. A few days ago, I was reading about a mission to the Peruvian Amazon. At the bottom of the short descriptive paragraph were the two words "Extreme Mission."
Ha! said I. Horrid advertising. Who would agree to go on something called an "extreme mission"?
There was silence for a moment, and then the answer came: Well, Kendall... You said you would.
Hrrrmm.
"Anyone who does not take his cross and follow Me is not worthy of Me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for My sake will find it."
When I gave my life to Christ, I declared that nothing was too extreme. Nothing was impossible. I agreed to believe that He would be my Provider, my Defender, my Everything. I promised that I would lay down my life day after day.
And I want to say to Him, "No, God. That's too extreme"? He gave up everything for me, and I would refuse to please Him because I like my own comfort and safety too much?
The words "Extreme Mission" should, in most cases, be superfluous to us. We should be delighted to do something the world considers extreme. We should count the cost, but count it at the foot of the cross, and there find that nothing is too much to ask of us who owe our lives to Jesus Christ.
The little dialogue with the Holy Spirit continued. The Peruvian Amazon can wait. I have something a little more attainable that you can be doing right now.
Thrilled to be let off the hook for a while at least, I was eager to find out what this might be.
Suppose I did call you to Peru. Suppose I called you to go on this "extreme mission" one day -- to travel three days by boat to reach the unreached, to have little more than the clothes on your back, to trust Me for your next meal, to walk for miles on end without stopping. Could you do it?
Apparently reformed by my previous hesitation, I answered triumphantly, "With all my heart!"
Your heart, yes -- but what about your body?
Long, awkward pause. "Now that's just mean."
No. No, I could not do it. Not because God can't take care of me, but because up until now, I have not taken care of what He gave to me. It would not take long for my body to give out on me. And so He began to impress it on my heart: My life is not my own. My heart is not my own. My mind is not my own.
My body is not my own.
And so, Peruvian Amazon in my future or no, I have entered what I like to call "Extreme Mission Training." For me, that consists of, well, working out. Becoming a good steward of what God has given me. "Extreme Mission Training" wouldn't usually be as pathetic as thirty minutes on a treadmill every day...but hey, I'm also learning some things about humility.
"If there be any reserve in my giving to Him who so loved that He gave His dearest for me; if there be a secret 'but' in my prayer, 'anything but that, Lord,' then I know nothing of Calvary love." ~Amy Carmichael
God has asked me for several things in my life that are incredibly dear. After much arguing, He wins them from my grasp, and I promise, "Everything, God. Everything for You."
Except the things I don't think He could possibly use. It's amazing the things I think God couldn't care less about; the things that I think are small enough that I'm entitled to keep them for myself.
Are you willing to go to all lengths for your Savior? Maybe He is calling you to reach the unreached; or maybe He's preparing you for that call by asking for something else that seems much smaller. But for the God who could use five loaves and two fishes to feed thousands, nothing is too small to give Him. There is nothing He cannot use.
And there is nothing He is not infinitely worthy of.
Ha! said I. Horrid advertising. Who would agree to go on something called an "extreme mission"?
There was silence for a moment, and then the answer came: Well, Kendall... You said you would.
Hrrrmm.
"Anyone who does not take his cross and follow Me is not worthy of Me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for My sake will find it."
When I gave my life to Christ, I declared that nothing was too extreme. Nothing was impossible. I agreed to believe that He would be my Provider, my Defender, my Everything. I promised that I would lay down my life day after day.
And I want to say to Him, "No, God. That's too extreme"? He gave up everything for me, and I would refuse to please Him because I like my own comfort and safety too much?
The words "Extreme Mission" should, in most cases, be superfluous to us. We should be delighted to do something the world considers extreme. We should count the cost, but count it at the foot of the cross, and there find that nothing is too much to ask of us who owe our lives to Jesus Christ.
The little dialogue with the Holy Spirit continued. The Peruvian Amazon can wait. I have something a little more attainable that you can be doing right now.
Thrilled to be let off the hook for a while at least, I was eager to find out what this might be.
Suppose I did call you to Peru. Suppose I called you to go on this "extreme mission" one day -- to travel three days by boat to reach the unreached, to have little more than the clothes on your back, to trust Me for your next meal, to walk for miles on end without stopping. Could you do it?
Apparently reformed by my previous hesitation, I answered triumphantly, "With all my heart!"
Your heart, yes -- but what about your body?
Long, awkward pause. "Now that's just mean."
No. No, I could not do it. Not because God can't take care of me, but because up until now, I have not taken care of what He gave to me. It would not take long for my body to give out on me. And so He began to impress it on my heart: My life is not my own. My heart is not my own. My mind is not my own.
My body is not my own.
And so, Peruvian Amazon in my future or no, I have entered what I like to call "Extreme Mission Training." For me, that consists of, well, working out. Becoming a good steward of what God has given me. "Extreme Mission Training" wouldn't usually be as pathetic as thirty minutes on a treadmill every day...but hey, I'm also learning some things about humility.
"If there be any reserve in my giving to Him who so loved that He gave His dearest for me; if there be a secret 'but' in my prayer, 'anything but that, Lord,' then I know nothing of Calvary love." ~Amy Carmichael
God has asked me for several things in my life that are incredibly dear. After much arguing, He wins them from my grasp, and I promise, "Everything, God. Everything for You."
Except the things I don't think He could possibly use. It's amazing the things I think God couldn't care less about; the things that I think are small enough that I'm entitled to keep them for myself.
Are you willing to go to all lengths for your Savior? Maybe He is calling you to reach the unreached; or maybe He's preparing you for that call by asking for something else that seems much smaller. But for the God who could use five loaves and two fishes to feed thousands, nothing is too small to give Him. There is nothing He cannot use.
And there is nothing He is not infinitely worthy of.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Yet
There is a tiny little word in the Bible that I think is my favorite. It occurs most notably in the Psalms, as David cries out to his Lord, or in Job. They pour out their troubles, baring their broken hearts, and then almost always follow with a single word: Yet.
"Yet You are enthroned as the Holy One..." "Yet will I praise Him..." "Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him..." "Yet in my flesh I will see God..." "Yet You heard my cry for mercy..." "Yet for Your sake we face death all day long..." "Yet I am always with You; You hold me by my right hand."
There are two different ways in which this word appears. One demonstrates man's faithfulness to God ("Though He slay me, yet..."). The other displays God's faithfulness to man ("Yet You are...").
Too often, my "yet" turns into a "but." "I know You want this, God, but..." "I know what You're calling me to do, God, but..." My answer should, instead, be, "My heart desires something else, yet I will obey." "I am afraid, yet I will follow." The conjunctions mean essentially the same thing; yet there's something so defiant about the word "yet." It refuses to give into circumstances. It refuses to complain. It declares, "Nevertheless." It cries, "In spite of all that surrounds me." It defies circumstances.
In my Senior Thesis, I wrote, "Jesus describes a wholehearted love for the Lord. This love is not a partial commitment or a mere pastime; it requires 'all.' An individual who loves God in this way is not coolly affectionate. He is enthralled by his Lord, and this love affects every single part of his life." Jesus does not always ask for the things that are easy to give. He asks for the things that require more than being "coolly affectionate." He probably wouldn't ask me for my baking skills, seeing that I bake about once a year and am really quite bad at it.
But He will ask for the things -- the people -- that I care most deeply about. He will ask me to surrender things that have changed me, things that have the strongest hold on my heart, things that have shaped who I am. And once He has them, I have a choice. I can sit in rebellion. I can be angry at Him for asking for those things.
Or I can say, "Yet..." Despite all that He has taken, He will give even more: More of Himself. More of the only thing I will ever need.
And when I feel like my world is spinning out of control... When I feel like my heart cannot take any more... When my greatest cry is for my heart to simply be kept alive... Yet He is always with me. Yet He is enthroned in heaven. Yet He is God, and more than worthy of the best of my heart.
"Yet You are enthroned as the Holy One..." "Yet will I praise Him..." "Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him..." "Yet in my flesh I will see God..." "Yet You heard my cry for mercy..." "Yet for Your sake we face death all day long..." "Yet I am always with You; You hold me by my right hand."
There are two different ways in which this word appears. One demonstrates man's faithfulness to God ("Though He slay me, yet..."). The other displays God's faithfulness to man ("Yet You are...").
Too often, my "yet" turns into a "but." "I know You want this, God, but..." "I know what You're calling me to do, God, but..." My answer should, instead, be, "My heart desires something else, yet I will obey." "I am afraid, yet I will follow." The conjunctions mean essentially the same thing; yet there's something so defiant about the word "yet." It refuses to give into circumstances. It refuses to complain. It declares, "Nevertheless." It cries, "In spite of all that surrounds me." It defies circumstances.
In my Senior Thesis, I wrote, "Jesus describes a wholehearted love for the Lord. This love is not a partial commitment or a mere pastime; it requires 'all.' An individual who loves God in this way is not coolly affectionate. He is enthralled by his Lord, and this love affects every single part of his life." Jesus does not always ask for the things that are easy to give. He asks for the things that require more than being "coolly affectionate." He probably wouldn't ask me for my baking skills, seeing that I bake about once a year and am really quite bad at it.
But He will ask for the things -- the people -- that I care most deeply about. He will ask me to surrender things that have changed me, things that have the strongest hold on my heart, things that have shaped who I am. And once He has them, I have a choice. I can sit in rebellion. I can be angry at Him for asking for those things.
Or I can say, "Yet..." Despite all that He has taken, He will give even more: More of Himself. More of the only thing I will ever need.
And when I feel like my world is spinning out of control... When I feel like my heart cannot take any more... When my greatest cry is for my heart to simply be kept alive... Yet He is always with me. Yet He is enthroned in heaven. Yet He is God, and more than worthy of the best of my heart.
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