On July 18th, I will be flying to Africa with a PaulAnn team to do mission work in Mozambique, Africa, for about two weeks.
To be totally honest, this was never the plan I had for my life. I grew up with stories of missionaries like Eric Liddell, David Livingstone, and Jim Elliot. (If you’ve ever seen the movie The End of the Spear, you know who Jim Elliot is—the guy who was killed by the tribe he went to preach the Gospel to. Not exactly my cup of tea.) As a guy who has always looked forward to being a husband and father and grandfather, with a nice life in the city surrounded by books and plumbing, the possibility of going to a foreign country and possibly dying doesn’t sound so great. So a few months ago, when I felt the Lord calling me to Africa—and potentially to a future there—needless to say I was just a bit shocked. (And more than a little scared.)
During one of the mission team meetings a few weeks ago, I mentioned to the group my fears and anxiety about the trip. Camping has never been my thing, I don’t sleep well in a tent, this is my first time overseas, public speaking has always been difficult for me, I’ve never shared my testimony before, a lion assassin could sneak into my tent and eat me—you know, the usual. It was at this point that a few trip veterans shared with me these two short but important reminders:
1) The safest place in the world is in the center of God’s will, and
2) It isn’t our job to convince others of the Gospel.
These were things I had heard maybe in passing before, but never really thought much about. So let’s do a little digging, and explore where they come from and what exactly they mean.
The Safest Place
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28, ESV)
I’m sure most of you have heard this verse before. It’s probably one of the most-referenced verses in the Bible, often meant as an encouraging catchphrase in rough circumstances or particularly difficult times of life. But really, was it “good” for Jim Elliot to die? Was it “good” for for Stephen to be stoned, or for Peter to be crucified upside down?
I think the context of this verse gives us some clues to what “good” here might mean. Verses 18-30 are all about “Present Suffering and Future Glory,” as the subheading in my Bible says. I don’t think Paul is saying that everything will be hunky-dory and pleasant for those who love God. He isn’t preaching a prosperity gospel. Rather, he is talking about the future good for Christians—eternal life in the presence of our God, King, and Father. On this earth, we’re told to expect persecution (John 15:19-21). But through these trials, we are being molded into a closer image of Christ, refined like gold in a fire. Our sanctification will ultimately be completed when we meet Him in the clouds.
But maybe that’s not exactly encouraging. I mean, those people still died, leaving their loved ones behind, and maybe I don’t feel ready for that yet. Stonewall Jackson, Confederate general and devout Christian, once said, “My religious belief teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the time for my death.” We serve an omniscient, all-knowing God. He knows when we are going to die, and that isn’t something we—or the powers of this world—can change. I don’t have to worry about bloodthirsty lions or rogue elephants or border guards with machine guns because my Daddy is protecting me. My time isn’t done until He says it’s done. Yes, it might get rough, and it might get dirty, but through it all I can run with perseverance for the joy set before me: the joy of knowing Christ.
It Ain’t Your Job
Whenever I felt the Lord putting it on my heart to go share the Gospel with someone, I always struggled with thoughts like, “What if I get tongue tied? I’m an idiot.” “My testimony is so lame, I mean I wasn’t exactly addicted to crack at the unregenerate young age of four.” “What if I can’t answer all their questions? I’ll look stupid.” And so on and so forth, until the opportunity passes and I feel like a failure. Wash, rinse, repeat.
But you know what? Ultimately, it isn’t up to me to convince others that the Gospel is true. It isn’t my responsibility to speak clearly, or to use all the right words and the most watertight arguments. I can no more make someone believe in Jesus than I can control the weather. As Paul told the Corinthians, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.” (1 Corinthians 3:6) It is the Holy Spirit who changes hearts and brings life. Our only responsibility is to plant the seed, to follow the Great Commission lined out in Matthew 28. The Lord tells us in Isaiah 55:11 that his word won’t return empty, but will accomplish the purpose He sent it out for. And in preaching the Gospel, we are acting as the mouth of God, and the Lord will be faithful to that. You may not see the fruit, but that’s okay. Some bamboo trees don’t even grow visibly for four years, and then they grow ninety feet in a few months. People can be the same way. Always remember, the power is in the proclamation, not the proclaimer.
God is faithful. He always fulfills his promises. He provides for his children, and he persuades the staunchest hearts. And therefore, we can be very bold.
No comments:
Post a Comment