Imperative Discipleship ("The Importance of Christ's Preeminence")

Pivotal moments.

It's never simple. As the young, it is simply whether or not we want chocolate or vanilla. We belabor the point, ice-breathed dairy melting in front of us while we beg for another moment to select our desserts.

Eventually, time travels. Our choices turn to which young lady we will ask to the dance--once again belaboring the point. Pros, cons, lists, and focus groups among friends commence until we finally resort to our middle-school days and drop our sweetheart a note, asking them to "check yes if you like me."

The list continues.
Secondary education, spouse, job, location, and which tie to wear to your father's funeral.

Then it's all over. Mouth gasps, eyes close, and the last choice in your life no longer lies in your hands, as family selects your final resting place.

Yet how many times do we reach pivotal moments without recognizing them as such? Who is to say whether or not, on a certain night, one might find himself sitting at a desk, realizing that life has been passing by without a second glance? Or who is to say that a sudden tide of regret will not rush in and crash its breakers over an individual when they least expect it, hurling them into a moment of decision?

Perhaps this is part of what makes the mundane holy. Because, at any moment, one may find himself swept from the shores of normalcy into the strange and rough current of the unexpected, forced into a pivotal decision while on one's knees before the Almighty.

I find myself there.

Complacency sets in when suddenly, I realize where I am--and I hate it. It is far too often that I find myself, like Hosea's unfaithful wife, prostituting myself to my own idolatrous fancies, while my Savior stands with arms open. As Christian apologist and author C.S. Lewis wrote:

"We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."

I fear that I love the gifts far more than I love the Father. I take the good and twist it, use it for my own advantage, and spit in the face of the Giver exclaiming "Give me more!" Those terrestrial pleasures, stolen gifts of God set as idols, own my heart more than I'd care to admit.

How can this result in anything but heart-wrenching terror? For we must "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in Him." It is in this time--this painful, yet imperative acknowledgement--that a pivotal decision must be made.

A secondary salvific moment? Nay. A re-dedication, even? Of sorts.
Perhaps moreso a realization that, truly, I am dead.

The decision to carry our crucifix is one made daily. Each day, we die to ourselves and remind ourselves that we are clothed in Christ's righteousness--dead to sin and alive in Him. We must be immersed in a desire for the gospel, preaching it to ourselves daily. What did Jesus say, but "Blessed are they who hunger & thirst for righteousness."

Our pivotal moment, then, comes in our choice to continually lose ourselves in the gospel.

addict of mercy.

theyre no different than any other addicts really.

dealers and takers. those giving it out and putting it in. 

strong aftertaste. strong desire for more. 

burning inability to function without it.

just a little taste and you're hooked. everything else pales in comparison.

its all you can do to keep it to yourself. you have to share it.

even though you know its more costly than you dare admit to yourself.

you cant just find it anywhere. the addicts sometimes have to search.

it takes work to find. finding it is only half the battle too. 

it doesn't come cheap. it costs a lot for buyer and seller alike.

it sets in fast. once you find yourself hooked theres no going back.

sure. there may be times when you relapse. when you find yourself running low.

but these folks are like any addict. theres always a little more left.

this stuff is strong. it makes the addict generous with his addiction.

if he sees someone without it he makes sure they get as much as they need.

if he sees someone with it he makes sure they join forces. 

gosh. it messes with your mind.

makes you do things you would never have considered before the addiction set in.

it keeps each addict acutely aware of those who aren't addicted yet.

they make it their goal to get those folks hooked.

its too good to keep to yourself. trust me. 

im not nearly as strung out on this stuff as i want to be. but im getting there. 

i need it desperately.

and then i need to give it away.

its an addiction i tell you.

im an addict of mercy.

When God Doesn't Provide

"Everyone should go on a mission trip. You'll be amazed at how the funds come in!"

The university president set the microphone down and dismissed the students from chapel. As everyone hurried off to class, I sat there quietly. Frowning. Disgruntled. Staring at my shoes. 

You know why? Because I knew, in my international experiences, it wasn't true.

The funds don't always come in. Sometimes, you're left floundering for cash.

Worst of all, God is distant and doesn't seem to be interested. 

What do I do when God doesn't provide? 

I did it. I went to Africa. Everyone told me the money would pour in and I didn't need to worry about it. "You'll be amazed at how God provides!" Everyone told me to be confident. So I was. But, almost a year later, I still was unable to raise all the money I was supposed to pay. 

Then I did it again. I applied to go to the Middle East. Got accepted. Trusted God to come through to raise funds for an internship I know I was supposed to accept. The chance to work with Muslims hits such a strong chord in my heart. 

Did God come through? No. Not yet. 

In fact, I got contacted by the organization from last summer reminding me I still owed them money.

Two weeks before my first fundraising deadline for Iraq.

"Pray as big as your Dad" says Mark Driscoll. But does that mean that God will give everything I want? Of course not. But I'd think that He would provide for those who seek to go to the most dangerous places on earth for the sake of the gospel.

There are a lot of reasons why God doesn't provide. 

To build faith in the divine. To build dependance on the miraculous.

And sometimes, for reasons that make no sense and are never revealed.

Guess what? That's how this post ends. 

That's where I'm at right now. Trusting that Iraq is where I'm supposed to be.

Trying to fundraise, but not knowing how the funds will come.

That's it. He is faithful.

Worthy is the Lamb.

Amen.