December 2nd, 2007
I have to say my mind has been racing the last couple days. The AIDS Summit yesterday was something that really rocked my world and I have been trying to find the time to put all these jumbled thoughts down and try and sort them out...Here's the unsorted version:
On Saturday at the AIDS Youth Summit, Francis Chan said something that really got me thinking. He said: "If we are to love our neighbor like we love ourself, should we not spend as much on our neighbor as we spend on ourself?" It's kind of strange that this stuck out to me amongst all the incredible words spoken, statistics given, videos shown, etc. But I think it sticks out for a different reason.
Most people, and most Christians, who would hear a phrase like that would probably write it off pretty quickly. You could easily shoot back with so many answers from so many different angles, and eventually lead to calling this statement somewhat radical or crazy. But I feel like no matter how you truly feel about the statement, you have to believe the church is in desperate need for radical statements. Challenge it if you want, conclude that you don't agree with it if you want, but don't say this isn't the type of stuff we should be hearing more and more in the church.
When Jesus came to earth he flipped the entire system of success and status upside down. That was radical. I feel like we so easily find the next solution. What if we began to ask ourselves radical questions? What if we didn't stop at the logical conclusion? It's so easy to do something because that's how you've always done it, or that's how everyone does it. What if we changed the way we have church, or changed the way we spend our time?
Today my small group hung out at Starbucks and I encouraged them to do something that I found to be cool about a month ago, which was to write down everything you are truly passionate about. Some stuff I wrote down was just writing, spending time with my jr. high boys, making a Crave cd, etc. But then we started talking and thinking about how many hours in a day, or in a week, we actually spend on the things we are passionate about.
How much time do I spend in conversation with people every week? And how much of that conversation is meaningful? How much of that conversation will matter a week, a month, or a year from now? I can't believe how much time I have wasted talking about things that matter. The only conversations I've had that I can remember were those that had meaning to them. Obviously that isn't surprising.
I remember one conversation I had in particular with one of my best friends over the years. It was in Mexico during my Junior year with Kenny McMillen. He agreed to go to Mexico even though it was only a short time after he got home from his missions trip to Ukraine where he spent all his time with the street orphans. Our village was gathering up the kids and taking them inside the church. I checked outside one last time to make sure no one was still outside. I remember finding Kenny just sitting in the van, so I went over to talk to him. I remember him trying not to cry as he told me something that really changed my life, something that I wish I didn't agree to be true.
He said that his mind was racing, and he felt like something had to be wrong. Because in the midst of all the poverty, seeing all the children with nothing, hearing the students talk about how sorry they felt, he really didn't feel sorry at all. He went on to talk about his jealousy of those who have nothing but Jesus, and that while we tend to be sorry for them, they should feel sorry for us. We are so easily distracted, so easily covered with things and business that Jesus just becomes something buried somewhere in our life.
Lately I have felt burdened, knowing that God has given me much, and expects much in return. What a beautiful picture it is of God blessing one of his children with so much, and seeing him turn it all back to God, for the glory of Jesus Christ. I have been given so much. God expects much. What an incredible thing it could be if I were to follow through.
The AIDS pandemic, worldwide poverty, and the desperate need for Jesus Christ in the world are things that statistically blow our minds. But the solution for these things is much like Christianity itself, in that it is so difficult, but so simple. And so amidst all the swarming numbers, facts, and stories, the only statistic that matters is simply: one. What can I do with this one life I have been given? How will I respond to each situation presented to me? Will I choose God in each situation, allowing him to open up more doors? God didn't call me to cure AIDS. God didn't call me to cure poverty. But God called me to obey him. God called me to trust him. God called me follow his plan. It just so happens that God's plan is love.
You eat an elephant one bite at a time. You don't stare at the elephant and wish he was smaller. You don't talk about how big the elephant is. You don't forget about the elephant. You just bite into it...
What if?
On Saturday at the AIDS Youth Summit, Francis Chan said something that really got me thinking. He said: "If we are to love our neighbor like we love ourself, should we not spend as much on our neighbor as we spend on ourself?" It's kind of strange that this stuck out to me amongst all the incredible words spoken, statistics given, videos shown, etc. But I think it sticks out for a different reason.
Most people, and most Christians, who would hear a phrase like that would probably write it off pretty quickly. You could easily shoot back with so many answers from so many different angles, and eventually lead to calling this statement somewhat radical or crazy. But I feel like no matter how you truly feel about the statement, you have to believe the church is in desperate need for radical statements. Challenge it if you want, conclude that you don't agree with it if you want, but don't say this isn't the type of stuff we should be hearing more and more in the church.
When Jesus came to earth he flipped the entire system of success and status upside down. That was radical. I feel like we so easily find the next solution. What if we began to ask ourselves radical questions? What if we didn't stop at the logical conclusion? It's so easy to do something because that's how you've always done it, or that's how everyone does it. What if we changed the way we have church, or changed the way we spend our time?
Today my small group hung out at Starbucks and I encouraged them to do something that I found to be cool about a month ago, which was to write down everything you are truly passionate about. Some stuff I wrote down was just writing, spending time with my jr. high boys, making a Crave cd, etc. But then we started talking and thinking about how many hours in a day, or in a week, we actually spend on the things we are passionate about.
How much time do I spend in conversation with people every week? And how much of that conversation is meaningful? How much of that conversation will matter a week, a month, or a year from now? I can't believe how much time I have wasted talking about things that matter. The only conversations I've had that I can remember were those that had meaning to them. Obviously that isn't surprising.
I remember one conversation I had in particular with one of my best friends over the years. It was in Mexico during my Junior year with Kenny McMillen. He agreed to go to Mexico even though it was only a short time after he got home from his missions trip to Ukraine where he spent all his time with the street orphans. Our village was gathering up the kids and taking them inside the church. I checked outside one last time to make sure no one was still outside. I remember finding Kenny just sitting in the van, so I went over to talk to him. I remember him trying not to cry as he told me something that really changed my life, something that I wish I didn't agree to be true.
He said that his mind was racing, and he felt like something had to be wrong. Because in the midst of all the poverty, seeing all the children with nothing, hearing the students talk about how sorry they felt, he really didn't feel sorry at all. He went on to talk about his jealousy of those who have nothing but Jesus, and that while we tend to be sorry for them, they should feel sorry for us. We are so easily distracted, so easily covered with things and business that Jesus just becomes something buried somewhere in our life.
Lately I have felt burdened, knowing that God has given me much, and expects much in return. What a beautiful picture it is of God blessing one of his children with so much, and seeing him turn it all back to God, for the glory of Jesus Christ. I have been given so much. God expects much. What an incredible thing it could be if I were to follow through.
The AIDS pandemic, worldwide poverty, and the desperate need for Jesus Christ in the world are things that statistically blow our minds. But the solution for these things is much like Christianity itself, in that it is so difficult, but so simple. And so amidst all the swarming numbers, facts, and stories, the only statistic that matters is simply: one. What can I do with this one life I have been given? How will I respond to each situation presented to me? Will I choose God in each situation, allowing him to open up more doors? God didn't call me to cure AIDS. God didn't call me to cure poverty. But God called me to obey him. God called me to trust him. God called me follow his plan. It just so happens that God's plan is love.
You eat an elephant one bite at a time. You don't stare at the elephant and wish he was smaller. You don't talk about how big the elephant is. You don't forget about the elephant. You just bite into it...
What if?
posted by David Hughes at 11:41 PM
1 comments
