missional living

unreached lands. people seeking. and you, gospel in hand, ready to show them the Way.

how many of us share a vision of doing missions? how many of us feel that call deep within our souls to go and share the greatest love story with lost populations across the globe?

and yet how many of us feel that we must go somewhere else to do so? that somewhere in this concept of missions a flight and a passport is a prerequisite. that we must venture into something that is unknown to us, something foreign, whether geographically or otherwise.

how many people do we neglect to tell because of this?

particularly within the past year, this thought has been hammered into my mind every time i travel home. being from that "barren, desolate, chunk of the state in the middle of nowhere," it is a rarity to find anyone willing to make a positive comment about it, let alone anyone eager to travel there. and yet, every time i go home i am continuously made aware of how many people are living without the gospel in mind, if they've ever heard it at all. and it makes me wonder, how is west texas any different than any foreign mission field? scattered all throughout it are little towns pocketed between miles of farm and ranchland, miles from medical care, miles from universities, and spiritually, miles from the gospel.

west texas is just one of many local examples i could mention. and this is not to say that there aren't any believers in west texas, but as with so many places in america today, knowledge of the gospel and seeking a relationship with our Savior is often superficial, and the tragic, too often result is that thousands of people are assuming they are saved and going to heaven when they have no idea who Jesus is or what He did on the cross. in terms of the parable of the sower, they are thoughtlessly assuming they are the fourth type of seed, when instead they have drifted into the comfortable yet treacherous states of the second and third types of seed (see mark 4:1-20).

the point of this is not to rag on any particular region of america, but instead to show the immense need to be missional here. while we may feel called to rural china or war-torn afghanistan or the parisian metro, our ministry is not exclusive to that region. we may end up there, yes, and there is certainly a need to share the gospel there as well, but we should aim not simply to go on foreign missions, but to live missionally, regardless of our location.

a difficulty i have met in trying to be missional back home is that, for some reason, it is a greater challenge for me to share the gospel with people i have known my whole life than it is to share with an entire Ugandan village. that somehow, because they know who i used to be, my message will be disregarded, or belittled, or mocked. that in turn i will feel even more isolated at home, rejected in some form or fashion because of my beliefs. not that any of this can't or won't happen on an overseas missions trip, but somehow persecution from home tends to hit harder, and every time i have difficulty catching my breath enough to try to speak the message again.

even Jesus was rejected at home (mark 6:1-6). yet, despite the pain of it, He never stopped preaching.

will we face resistance to the gospel at home? likely. even if your immediate family are believers, there can still be resistance from other relatives, friends, or acquaintances. yet despite resistance or persecution, what a beautiful opportunity we have to share the gospel in situations where we already have relationships established. let's not watch these opportunities pass us by.

we need to start living missionally. now.

crazy love

as an english major applying to medical school, i very commonly get asked about books i'm reading, and due to my recent choice of books, it's become an inevitable opener into my faith. during each of three of my most recent interviews, i have had the opportunity to elaborate on books like crazy love and forgotten God by francis chan or preach and heal by dr. charles fielding, often to the disgruntlement of my interviewers. though my interviewers have normally looked irritated and very quickly changed the subject, one reacted in a way i'm unable to forget.

my first interview had started late and ran late, so ten minutes after my scheduled time, i arrive at my second interviewer's door. a few minutes into his questions, something brought up an event or program relating to church that i'd done. he then asked me which church i attended, to which he responded, "so you're baptist. they seem to be nice people. good morals." and he changed the subject.

the questions that followed quickly turned to ethics and abortion and stem cell research and the like, and although i felt i answered them well and made my beliefs evident, i realized that he (being a human geneticist) could very well be a pro-choice atheist. but he kept asking questions, so i kept answering. and his face remained blank and emotionless beyond the scrunch of an eyebrow and a pensive gaze at my file in front of him. a few questions later, he closed my file and pushed it aside.

then, with his hands clasped together on the table, he leaned forward and asked without the slightest hint of a whisper, "will you pray for me?"

my initial shock of his question was quickly outweighed by my excitement at the opportunity to answer it. he immediately began to pour out stories of his struggles in defending His christian faith in his field of research. how he's been discriminated against because of his beliefs. how his lab members shunned him because he wouldn't let a student do research on early embryos. how he'd been beaten down by his colleagues because he'd publicly proclaimed himself as a christian at a guest lecture in another state. how discouraged he was when another colleague who claimed to be christian faltered under the pressure of persecution and is now going along with research contrary to their beliefs. how he'd become so discouraged in the midst of this that he had to be taken to the hospital for his depression.

and how in the depths of that depression, he made the decision to continue to stand up for God, to continue to proclaim His name despite whatever reputation he might suffer or job he might lose. yes, he's still looking for another job elsewhere. but until God moves him, he is still in this place for a reason, and he refuses to sit passively or run from it. yes it's hard. yes it's discouraging. but yes, it's in God's hands.

how encouraging was it to meet this man, who despite working in an incredibly difficult field for believers and receiving constant persecution as a result of his beliefs, continues to share and fight for the Gospel in his everyday life.

to me, this illustrated an example of the "crazy love" i want to have--that i want to live out with every breath left in me--for my God above. but even beyond the encouragement of seeing someone so passionately in love with God and striving so hard to uphold His name despite persecution, how much conviction did i feel in my own actions of that day. how much did i feel myself pulling back or choosing words more cautiously so as not to crack the eggshells i was walking on as violently? how much relief did i feel when the topic finally did change and the pressure on me and my beliefs was lifted? how much did i not use those opportunities to proclaim the Gospel? how much more will i fade on this witness stand, stammering in response to the fire squad, and then rushing, relieved, to my seat in the crowd?

maybe i'm exaggerating my lack of action a bit. i mean, after all, i still talked about the books and made it apparent that i was a christian. i still showed that my reasons for being pro-life fell along the same religious line. oh, and i smiled the whole time. i didn't fail that badly, right?

yes i did.

because the danger in letting my thoughts follow that path is that not only am i justifying my weaknesses in defending His name in my interview, but i'm shifting the focus from Him to me. my actions. my words. my impression on the interviewer.

and then it's not only my responses in interviews that i'm trying to justify, but the conversation about the Gospel that i didn't have with a girl on the bus because it was too early or there were too many people around or they might think i'm strange or ______ (insert excuse here). or only spending a couple days in the Word a week because it's 4am and i'm too tired to really be able to focus or so-and-so said they haven't read much recently either so that's okay; i don't feel as bad if i'm not the only one slacking.

sound familiar?

the point here is not to focus on our consistent moments of weakness or failure to share or defend or even seek the Gospel. the point is not to beat ourselves down and focus on us and how pitiful we are and how we didn't do it right. the point is to recognize this and realign with Him.

do we love Him enough to truly seek Him? to serve Him? to stand boldly and vulnerable and defend His name? do we love Him, or merely the idea of Him?

He is not an idea. He is a supernatural being greater than anything we can imagine, with works more extraordinary than we can ever grasp with our human minds. pick a psalm and read of His glory, His power, His miracles, His mercy, His faithfulness, Him. He is God.

how great is He in your life? (which He created and sustains, lest we forget that truth)

seek

how urgent the yearning
how desperate the seeking
of one chasing toward the One
yet still such a weakling
that a few paces in, chagrin
as zeal and appeal fade
in favor of dirt and ash,
and the command He bade
is muffled in our memory
forgotten in our fleeing
as sin and shame overbearing
weigh one's eyes from seeing
the upheld promises given
the depth of grace unmerited
nor even begin to grasp
the expanse of blessings inherited
yet how urgent the yearning
how desperate the seeking
when one again chases toward the One
yes, still a weakling,
but strengthened in His grace


"when we love God, we naturally run to Him--frequently and zealously." crazy love

so if we aren't running, does that mean we don't love God? or do we just not love Him enough--more than any other aspect of our life to the point where we can't help but to run to Him?

realign

"the point of your life is to point to Him." - francis chan, crazy love

listen to this song. don't just click play and listen passively while you browse through facebook or read emails. stop the distractions. close your eyes if you need to. for the next four minutes, focus on the message. focus on the point.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPs-2hn5ZOg

if my life could exude such serene surrender to God with every element of its brief existence, how much sweeter would it be to live it. but instead i find myself stressing and worrying and rushing and forgetting the point. how devastating that i should waste one breath of my vapor of a life not praising the One who paid such a high price to allow me to keep breathing.

"take my heart, i lay it down
at the feet of You whose crowned
take my life, i’m letting go
i lift it up to You who’s throned

and i will worship You, Lord
only You, Lord
and i will bow down before You
only You Lord

take my fret, take my fear
all i have, i’m leaving here
be all my hopes, be all my dreams
be all my delights, be my everything

and it’s just You and me here now
only You and me here now

You should see the view
when it’s only You"

david crowder: "only You"

cale and antioco

[note: rough draft]

the night was young, and as it grew, it breathed a heavy fog into the park. all the park’s visitors had retreated for the evening, save for two unacquainted souls whose wearying wanderings had drug them into a deep doze. upon waking from their opposing benches and realizing each other’s presence from their respective grunts and creakings (as the fog was too thick to see through even the six feet that separated them), one cast a greeting into the gray.

“eh, who’s there?”

“name’s cale.” he stretched stiffly. “i seem to have dozed a bit too long. i’ll be going, officer. my apologies.”

“hmph,” the other voice grunted. “i’m no officer. name’s antioco. been dozing across the way.”

“oh.” cale stood and stretched again. “by your voice i could not tell.”

antioco grunted again. “do you know the way out? i can’t see a thing.”

“i can’t see either. but i can feel the path beneath my shoes. maybe we can feel it to the gate.”

antioco only grunted in response. spending the rest of the night asleep on the bench was of greater appeal, but instead he found himself walking alongside his invisible companion. cale walked cautiously but swiftly, relying on the feel of gravel beneath his feet to guide him. the path often turned, and unable to see for the fog, they would find themselves suddenly on plush grass or in a muddy puddle before stepping backwards and side to side until once more they could distinguish where the path was directed. the night grew on with an ever darker fog, and the path continued to weave.

“i should have stayed at the bench,” antioco muttered. “i can’t feel the path anymore.”

“maybe your soles are too thick. just follow me. i believe the gate is nearby.”

“you’ve been saying that for hours. how do you know there even is a gate?”

cale heard antioco’s footsteps stop but still he trod on. “i heard people in the park discussing it.”

“well, they lied.”

“we won’t know if we don’t look.”

cale’s footsteps were growing weaker in antioco’s ears, and with another grunt, he trudged to follow the noise until its audibility confirmed cale’s nearness. “i still say they lied. what will you give me if i’m right? i’ll bet you ten…”

“shh.” cale had stopped moving, but antioco did not stop to listen and moved past cale, only to collide with what appeared to be a solid metal wall. he stumbled back with one hand on his brow and hobbled about as he tried to caress the pain out of his knee with the other.

“why didn’t you tell me there was a wall there?” antioco muttered. “bloody hell. that hurt. you miserable, conniving—“

“shh,” cale repeated, running his hands along the moist metal. “i believe this is the gate.”

antioco paused in his grumblings. “i knew that! now you think i’m an idiot, too, eh? of course this is the gate! now move so i can open it and we can leave this place.”

cale paused in his fingertip searching. “i don’t think we can open it from this side.”

“of course we can! don’t you know how to open a gate? idiot! move.”

cale stepped to the right and continued to feel about the gate, listening to the repeated hammering and clanging as antioco failed again and again to force the gate open.

“antioco, wait.” the pounding continued, more forceful with every tug and blow.

“no. i can do this. i’ll show you. i can make this gate open.”

cale’s fingers came to rest on a small box embedded in the wall next to the gate. he could feel the round call button at its center.

“antioco, I believe we just have to call out. the keeper can open the gate for us from the other side.” his smile was hidden in the fog.

“no,” antioco grunted. “i can do this.”

“i’m not doubting your strength, but i don’t think you can. it doesn’t look like it can open like that.”

still antioco did not relent. “you can’t even see the gate. why should i believe you?”

antioco’s pounding and scraping grew louder. it now sounded as though he was using a fallen tree branch to hammer at the gate. with each blow, his grunting grew heavier, his breath more weary.

cale sighed and pressed the button. no sooner had it indented into its casing, cale heard the slightest noise of a well-oiled hinge opening to his right. feeling his way along the wall, he found the opening where a small door had been, and beyond it, a fogless sunrise. excitement welled within him to run toward it.

“antioco, look! this is the way out! come now, we’re free!”

but antioco never turned from his work trying to open the larger gate. cale called to him more loudly, but still he did not respond. with a sigh, cale turned back toward the open door and, leaving it open behind him, he began to run toward the morning light.

but he could still hear antioco’s pounding against the larger gate, and so he turned back to let him in. yet when he came to the gate, he found he could not open it himself. so he rushed back to where the small door had been, only to find it shut the same way as before.

“antioco! press the call button! i can’t open the gate for you!”

antioco’s only response was a steady beating against the large gate, unrelenting in his effort. and still the gate did not budge.

go410

i wrote this piece this past june, but i feel it's still very applicable to the entire thought of this blog. read and reflect.

As I sit at the kitchen table of another temporary residence with little more than befuddlement on my mind, an old friend of a thought drops in for a visit. It prods me onward like a lantern with broken glass, illuminating with disregard to my personal comfort. And despite the resulting pain or the chunks cut from my life, I know I must follow the guide of its flame. Not because of some form of coercion or manipulation or obligation, but because of a rooted faith in Who is holding the lantern.

His call doesn't guarantee comfort. Or safety. Or food, or clothing, or any of the "needs" we trade sandcastles of time for in a fragile attempt to satisfy them. Having this expectation is an attempt to make us the focus of what is never about us. So often, it is not until we are stripped to a shivering soul clinging to the fragments of our faith that we realize this.

And yet, sometimes we almost need to be thrown into that barren land to realize our part in the call, where, broken of so many of our distractions, we can see that the lantern is not a fixture above a cozy coffee shop chair. No, it was made to light a journey. Its very existence demands that steps be taken. Of course, we could try to hang the lantern and settle into a sedentary spirituality, but the Lantern Holder rebukes such idleness.

We are called to go. To serve. To share. To love. To make Him our life.

He equips us with all we need to live out His call. We may have to give up our comfort, our safety, our "needs" as we see them. But what you gain in the trade--a life in, with, and for Him--outweighs all costs.

Will you go?


1 Peter 4:10

lest we drift away

what tragedy plays in unending acts
as soul after soul wanders the stage
having forgotten their lines, and changing their names
to Neglect and Indifference, they sit to laze,
oblivious to their paralysis, ignorant to their role,
and the World slips a sly grin in the audience,
satisfied with its directorial success
as again and again, the actors digress.


"Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. For since the message declared by angels proved to be reliable, and every transgression or disobedience received a just retribution, how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation? It was declared at first by the Lord, and it was attested to us by those who heard, while God also bore witness by signs and wonders and various miracles and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to His will."
- hebrews 2:1-4


of this message, i have heard. at first, i did not listen. rather, i covered my ears and cried of the miseries of my sin and how i had no greater certainty than that i was far too stained and destroyed and ugly for a diety like Him to even glance in my direction. and so i sunk there, my knees pressed into the mud, forever feeling filthy.

but the truth of the message does not waver based on our emotions. this is the definition of truth. and in realizing this, i at last listened to that truth: that the wretched, dirty sinner that i was, slouched against a dumpster mourning my wounds, was precisely who God sent His Son to redeem. yes, i have sinned (and incredibly so), and yes, i am completely unworthy of His forgiveness and mercy. i deserve eternal punishment. but this beautiful gift called Grace, God poured out upon all of us in the death and resurrection of the sinless Jesus Christ, Who bore the punishment for our sins on the cross so that we might enter freely and blameless through the gates of Heaven.

in the realization and acceptance of this truth, one has a renewed identity in Christ, and with that, an undeniable purpose for Christ. yet how easy it is, even years after our initial acceptance of His saving grace, we can let outselves drift so far from this purpose that even our regard of its existence is hardly a memory. yes, we have heard of Christ. yes, we say we believe in Christ.

but do we live for Christ?

the tragedy is that for many of us, the answer to that question is no. and from a worldly perspective, it's easy to see why. for what worldly benefit is there in basing your life on something so seemingly intangible when there are so many distractions tempting your fingertips to latch on? but what eternal loss do we face if we neglect His truth in favor of a more immediate (albeit fleeting) "fulfillment" here on earth? "how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation?"

this Truth is indelible. it cannot be eliminated or changed by human imaginations. and it cannot be forgotten, or we shall drift ever farther away from the embrace of His shore in our pursuit of purpose elsewhere. we will never find purpose on that open sea if we do not "pay much closer attention to what we have heard."

"set your mind's attention and your heart's affection on the glory of Christ so that you will be changed from glory to glory into His image, so that you might fully enjoy what you were made for--making much of Christ." - john piper