"Let my heart be broken with the things that break the heart of God." ~Bob Pierce
I want to change the world but my life keeps getting in the way. Between schooling and laundry and co-op and housekeeping and piano I often feel like I can't breathe let alone make a difference. And deep in my soul I know that something's wrong with this picture.
Many people feel that what I do every day for my husband and my children is my mission field, but I'm just not comfortable with that. Or maybe I'm too comfortable with that. I just don't think it involves enough risk. We live in a safe spot, a nice place with good food and cushy couches where we talk a lot about Jesus, but somehow He is missing in the majority of our daily life because, frankly, we aren't engaged in anything that tests our faith or makes us any different than the nice atheist folks next door. We go to church every week and sponsor a child in a third-world country. We don't swear or beat our children. So what?
Christianity should be radical. Jesus made some rather outrageous statements:
"Leave the dead bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God." (Luke 9:60)
"If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple." (Luke 14:26)
"Go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come follow me." (Mark 10:21)
What am I involved in that has even an inkling of this sort of devotion?
I want to live a missional life characterized by radically living out the gospel in word and deed. I want my children to see the hands and feet of Jesus extended from our lives, not just read about missionaries in far away places. I want them to care more about the things Jesus cares about than computer games and Lego sets or the rules and regulations of "good Christians." And yet here I sit, paralyzed by fear and lack of motivation.
How can I love my neighbor? How can I change the world? Only when the gospel permeates my life. I need to eat the body of Christ and have it ooze out of me like when I eat lots of garlic! But this cannot happen when I choose to gorge myself on the stuff that makes me nothing more than "nice." The gospel is for the nations, for my community, and for me. And I need Him desperately so that others also might know.