And I hate to admit it. But I am. And I'd like to add that this will probably be my most popular blog post ever. It's gonna be awesome.
So last week, Francis Chan posts a video of Christian missionaries being persecuted in Orissa, India. I read that there is a small chance that the persecution is actually political and not religious, but nonetheless, Francis Chan got a lot of people thinking, talking and praying.
Since I am currently obsessed with Ruth Bell Graham, I'm reading every book I can get my hands on about her. She grew up with her family in China where her father was a doctor/missionary. She writes of all that their missionary friends went through. The persecution, the death.
I was already thinking about this after reading Ruth's book, and then the Chan video happened. I've been thinking about this for a long time, really. I've blogged before about how easy we have it in this country when it comes to religious persecution. We know nothing of religious persecution. We have NONE.
I mean my faith costs me SO little. It costs me nothing. I've actually sat in church and though about how easy it is to worship in this country. I sit there and think about men coming in the sanctuary with machine guns. I think about what it it were dangerous to come to church. What if it could literally could cost me my life? Would I go? What if they dragged my pastor out and killed him? Or others worshiping there? I know I'm not the only one who thinks these things, and doing so definitely doesn't make me a better person. Let me just get that out there.
So after reading about this religious persecution last week, I had to go back over all this in my mind. Ask myself some hard questions.
Would I die for Christ? Absolutely. Oh please, kill me now and I'll open my eyes and see Jesus. Despite my misgivings about Heaven, seeing Jesus is something I think about often. I just can't wait to see Him. So yes, kill me dead, please.
But what about torture? Physical torture? Would I ever renounce Christ because of physical torture?
And what about my kids. Kill my kids, sure. They'll see Jesus too. But what if I had to watch someone torture my kids? That would be the worst. I just can't even imagine.
But it happened to some of Ruth Graham's friends. This century. In China.
And why do I need to think about this anyway? I don't know. I think for me, it seems as though I've drawn a line in the sand with how far I'd go to serve Christ. Kill me, fine. Kill my husband, fine. Kill my kids, good. Torture me, my husband or my kids? I don't have an answer.
I've thought a lot about Jesus in the garden too. He didn't want to go through with it. He asked for the cup to pass from Him. I think that it was the separation from God that was the thing he feared the most. The wrath from God for the sin He carried. I wonder, though, if the physical agony he knew He was going to endure made him fearful before hand. I mean he was fully man, and fully God. Did the man part fear the physical part of the process He was going to go through?
Now I know that there are things that God gives us the grace for only once we get there. Not that I think that torture would be easy by any stretch of the imagination. It's horrific, and that's why it's used. I do know if that's what God has called me to, He'll get me through it.
I think too that this is all just how God is sizing me up a little. Seeing just how serious I am about what I'm willing to give up. I'm so fine with giving up my home, my car, my country even. Actually, if I got to give up those things, I'd be ecstatic. But giving up physical comfort and security seems to be a sticking point for me, and it seems to me to be a serious flaw in my Christian character. I'm having trouble reconciling the part of me that says, "Oh yes, Lord, use me greatly. Just don't let me be physically compromised for You."
Doesn't that make God sick? That my love has limits?
I am still praying this out. I also know that God loves me, in spite of my faults. I really want to get to the point where I can say that I'm so in love with the God I serve that I don't care what happens to me this side of heaven. I'm not there yet. And I'm desperately sorry for that.
So last week, Francis Chan posts a video of Christian missionaries being persecuted in Orissa, India. I read that there is a small chance that the persecution is actually political and not religious, but nonetheless, Francis Chan got a lot of people thinking, talking and praying.
Since I am currently obsessed with Ruth Bell Graham, I'm reading every book I can get my hands on about her. She grew up with her family in China where her father was a doctor/missionary. She writes of all that their missionary friends went through. The persecution, the death.
I was already thinking about this after reading Ruth's book, and then the Chan video happened. I've been thinking about this for a long time, really. I've blogged before about how easy we have it in this country when it comes to religious persecution. We know nothing of religious persecution. We have NONE.
I mean my faith costs me SO little. It costs me nothing. I've actually sat in church and though about how easy it is to worship in this country. I sit there and think about men coming in the sanctuary with machine guns. I think about what it it were dangerous to come to church. What if it could literally could cost me my life? Would I go? What if they dragged my pastor out and killed him? Or others worshiping there? I know I'm not the only one who thinks these things, and doing so definitely doesn't make me a better person. Let me just get that out there.
So after reading about this religious persecution last week, I had to go back over all this in my mind. Ask myself some hard questions.
Would I die for Christ? Absolutely. Oh please, kill me now and I'll open my eyes and see Jesus. Despite my misgivings about Heaven, seeing Jesus is something I think about often. I just can't wait to see Him. So yes, kill me dead, please.
But what about torture? Physical torture? Would I ever renounce Christ because of physical torture?
And what about my kids. Kill my kids, sure. They'll see Jesus too. But what if I had to watch someone torture my kids? That would be the worst. I just can't even imagine.
But it happened to some of Ruth Graham's friends. This century. In China.
And why do I need to think about this anyway? I don't know. I think for me, it seems as though I've drawn a line in the sand with how far I'd go to serve Christ. Kill me, fine. Kill my husband, fine. Kill my kids, good. Torture me, my husband or my kids? I don't have an answer.
I've thought a lot about Jesus in the garden too. He didn't want to go through with it. He asked for the cup to pass from Him. I think that it was the separation from God that was the thing he feared the most. The wrath from God for the sin He carried. I wonder, though, if the physical agony he knew He was going to endure made him fearful before hand. I mean he was fully man, and fully God. Did the man part fear the physical part of the process He was going to go through?
Now I know that there are things that God gives us the grace for only once we get there. Not that I think that torture would be easy by any stretch of the imagination. It's horrific, and that's why it's used. I do know if that's what God has called me to, He'll get me through it.
I think too that this is all just how God is sizing me up a little. Seeing just how serious I am about what I'm willing to give up. I'm so fine with giving up my home, my car, my country even. Actually, if I got to give up those things, I'd be ecstatic. But giving up physical comfort and security seems to be a sticking point for me, and it seems to me to be a serious flaw in my Christian character. I'm having trouble reconciling the part of me that says, "Oh yes, Lord, use me greatly. Just don't let me be physically compromised for You."
Doesn't that make God sick? That my love has limits?
I am still praying this out. I also know that God loves me, in spite of my faults. I really want to get to the point where I can say that I'm so in love with the God I serve that I don't care what happens to me this side of heaven. I'm not there yet. And I'm desperately sorry for that.
2 comments:
These thoughts have been running through my mind for the last several years, but especially over the last few months. My heart cries out to help. It hurts deeply. Yet the only comfort I can offer is to pray. So I pray and trust, "Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." James 5:16
I completely get this. I too have sat in church on Sunday morning and thought, "OK -- some gunman comes in -- what do I do? Grab the kids, crawl under the pews, head for the altar and out the sacristy door?" I was just talking to my husband about this, and he said he has had these thoughts too. He said -- and this is the military coming out in him -- that in that situation, there is nowhere to go, that the only choice he would have is to attack while I get the kids down.
On the one hand, I thank you for opening up this conversation between me and my husband. Insightful stuff there. On the other hand, OH MY STARS! This is hard to think about.
Just as God grieves with us when we suffer, and rejoices with us when we celebrate, God also suffered WITH Christ -- he wasn't just sitting on the sidelines waiting for him to ascend. That is the only comfort I can find at the moment, and admittedly, it's not *that* comforting. Jesus still had to endure the pain, and that is the dreaded thing. Flesh is so weak, isn't it, even for the son of God. Jesus gives us permission to be scared, as we saw him feeling scared while praying in the garden. And he argued with God, pleaded with God: "Really, Dad? This is what you want me to do?" So we too can ask God, "Is this the path you want me to take?"
The answer is ultimately up to us, of course. That is the nature of free will. God created us to love and serve him, but he wants us to *want* to. We must always be prayerful, and try to be mindful of the path God would have us take. We have to keep in mind that we must tend to His work. Becoming a Christian does not make life easier. But at least we Christians are together in that. I am not saying I could endure torture, or see my kids be tortured. I am with you on this one. I don't want to fall short. I will be praying about this one for a l-o-n-g time. Maybe we will get there.
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