I know I did not write this well. I'm hesitant to even post this blog, out of fear that I may be misunderstood or may be misrepresenting myself. Despite my fear, I choose to post this merely as an open journal entry. I'm not sure how encouraging it will be for you to read, should you choose to read it in it's entirety (and worse yet, if you only read bits and pieces of it), but I trust that my transparency in the matter, however condemning or embarrassing it is, will enable me to be a more truthful, genuine and honest follower of Jesus, and this is something I greatly aspire to be.
Been there, done that. What in this life is worth talking about besides the Savior? My aching and groaning for the temporary things of this life have brought me nothing but tears, hurt, and loss. My life experiences have brought me through great lows to see great heights, and great heights I have seen! Nothing that I could share about myself is devoid of Christ and His love for me.All that makes me unique I cherish. My individual purpose for existence and endurance is essential, with my unparalleled experience and relationship with God being my foundation and cherished hope. I tasted of the world and spat it out. I have been to the edge of death and been saved. I have been weary, defeated, weak, and disillusioned, and God is and always will be my sole treasure.I recall a quote once that I found pretty funny:“Despite the cost of living, have you noticed how it remains so popular?”Usually the term “cost of living” means the financial ramifications of living in a particular area or community, or even at a certain quality of life. This statement takes that normal interpretation and makes it absurd, yet somehow deeply penetrating and thought stimulating. Surely nobody is a strange to the words “life is hard”. Indeed it is. We pay a price. Sin takes it's gross toll on our bodies, spirits, minds and emotions. The decay of our mortal bodies and minds cannot go unnoticed. Gory trauma, untreatable diseases, drunk drivers and merciless dictators ravage their way through the human race like a kid with a magnifying glass on an ant hill.
Westerners shake their heads in pity when they hear of starving orphans and widows in Africa. Sometimes we feel enough pity to sacrifice a lunch at Burger King to send a few bucks to help.
Nothing has shaken and enlightened my view of the culture of Christianity, and specifically “American Christianism”, more than living in a third-world country. My simple answers to the incredible amount of grief and hardship (gross understatements) somehow no longer sufficed. The purpose of my own life, a mere vapor (James 4:14), suddenly entered a dense fog as fellow believers and non-believers perished in misery and were placed in cemeteries too over-filled to supply anything but a shallow grave amidst the shrubbery and weeds.
It's not that I don't have the typical Christian answers as to why I'm here. I'm here to glorify and worship God, right? I'm here to seek His heart. I'm here to grow in my relationship with Him. I'm here to share my love for Him with others, not to hide my light, not to become less salty, etc. My purpose is to reach the lost. I know all those great and truthful answers... but I feel like I have never really understood them, or at least not truly digested them. I certainly have never owned them for myself in such a dense fog as this.
I suppose you could explain to me why thousands upon thousands of people in Africa and other countries are living in the poorest-of-poor conditions. I suppose you can explain to me why Damalise died because the hospital couldn't find a clean needle to give her an IV with a normal saline (she was dehydrated, so she died). Perhaps you can explain to me why there are hundreds upon hundreds of street kids getting high on benzine and fermented feces in the slums and ghettos of a “westernized” city. The list could go on. Believe me, it could go on and on.
I don't expect to get a solid answer for those questions. God is sovereign. God is good. I must rest in these things. I certainly don't understand, but I must have faith that I cannot fully grasp all the mysteries of God's design and authority. But there is one question I really care about...Why am I not among those in such pain? Why am I not living on the streets? Why was I born into a Christian household? Why am I so well off? Why do I somehow deserve to live?
Most of all, I wonder why I am so anxious to live life, while my brothers and sisters are extremely anxious to pass on and be with the Lord?
If there are constants in truth, and if God deals consistently with human beings, shouldn't my purpose for life be similar to that of an African? What makes them so different?
I wonder very much if Paul came under fire for saying what he did in his letter to the Philippian church. He says,“For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account.” Philippians 1:21-24
I wonder how many people looked at him like he was crazy. What do you MEAN you want to die? What do you mean you're hard pressed between the choice to live or die? There is so much in life worth living for!
Surely this was a man that endured and witnessed great hardship in life – much more than I should ever see in my lifetime.
I really think that many of us do not understand the magnitude of the hardship that most human beings endure. I think we cannot grasp the entire thrust of this verse, or understand it fully with our hearts.
I've spoken much of death in my recent blogs. It has frightened some of my friends. It's often labeled a “death wish”. I cannot help but wonder when I look at Paul's writings, though, whether he also had some “death wish”. Surely it seems balanced out with a “life wish”, but he is hard pressed between the two of them! Do we gloss over this fact? Do we forget? Why is it “Christian” of me to want to live life and not simultaneously long for death? Why does “living by faith” somehow exclude living with great anticipation of the life to come?
Rarely do I see praise to the man that longs for death. In fact, he is often shunned. He often goes to “counseling”. Surely this man has something wrong with him if he is eager to die. Surely he isn't being “filled with the spirit” if he is passionately accepting either life or death at any given moment. He must be crazy. He must not have a good relationship with God. He must not be very grateful for all the “blessings” he's received in his life. Surely Paul is no man we ought to strive to be like. Right?
The fact that Paul wants to remain in this life has nothing to do with “God's blessings”. It has nothing to do with the fact that he'll “learn more” or “grow more”... It has everything to do with furthering the gospel of Christ and helping the church of Christ (Phil. 1:24-25).
So this brings me to a very legitimate question... Why does PAUL need to stick around for everyone else? Is he sooo great? Why does Paul make a specific statement that HE is valuable enough to stick around?
This is an important question to me. I have often wondered why God is keeping me on this earth. He can use anyone He wants to further His purposes. He wants me to worship and glorify Him? Can't I do that in Heaven? I am an instrument among a hundred thousand instruments. I feel like the ratty old violin in the corner of a music shop, unworthy to be in the store, much less in display anywhere. Oh God, must I stay in this place? Can my corrupt and filthy strings really make a note that is precious to your ears? Can't you box me up and retire me?
It all started when my friends started dying... Christians whose light has burned brighter in one day than mine has all my life. Brothers and sisters who have endured such hardship for the sake of Christ. People who really truly seem to understand Paul's statements in Philippians 1. Instruments that have made such beautiful noises that I cannot bear to compare my squeaks to.
What purpose do I serve, Lord? Either there is a unique purpose for my existence, or God just randomly sends the grim reaper to the doorsteps of unsuspecting Christians and cares nothing for whom He takes. I would like to think that the former is closer to the truth.
If there is one consistent thing in all humans, other than sin, it's a longing for purpose. Some find it in their career. Some find it when they become parents. Everyone seeks after it, and some are content with what they find. However, I feel I cannot rest until I understand, or at least make some sense of, why I am still here when I long to be with the Lord so badly, as those that so passionately want to live to the age of 80 are swept away like sand on a seashore.
The Bible talks about how we are all parts of the body of Christ. We all serve different functions. Unique functions. You and I are not alike. You may be good at the gift of service. I am not. Already, I am beginning to identify something that makes me unique. Even Psalm 139:13, which speaks of God “knitting me together in my mother's womb”, sheds some light on the fact that God loves the fact that I am unique, different, special. After all, that's how He made me.
I guess for many of you it may be easy. You may be part of a church that you consider home. You may own a house. You may be settled in a job. But I am not.
I was talking to an old friend the other day and mentioned something like, “at our church”. He had to stop me and ask, “wait, what church are you talking about?”. OUCH! My family has been a member of West Hills for over a decade. What do you MEAN “what church”? Yet it made me realize that my comings and goings, to Canada, Africa, Honduras, etc., have all contributed to the possible fact that I am essentially “homeless”. I certainly feel such is true.
If you have ever watched Cast Away, with Tom Hanks, you'll know what I'm speaking about in this illustration... I see many Christians in the church today being very comfortable. It's a comfortable island to live on. They're good at living there. They fit in. But many still feel alone. Many attempt to build a raft and leave the island in search of another church, more friends, more fellowship, etc. Some succeed... many fail and seem to lose all hope in the “concept of church”. Others, still, are floating in their rafts in the middle of a vast ocean looking for some solid ground, wondering if that's what they really want... Perhaps this blog is my “Wilson”.
I think I would be happy to find some solid ground – a church which I could call my home. Perhaps a job that lasts for many decades. Perhaps even a house or a family. I don't know. Something tells me, though, that I'll be floating here on this raft for a while. I'm not sure if it's because I'm not ready for them... No. I think it's more that I belong at sea, at least for this time in my life.
God has supplied me with so much food and rain. My thirsty soul is continually quenched by a “chance” rain that falls upon me on the driest and hottest of days. My stomach is continually satisfied with a Living Bread that sustains me and gives me strength. My heart is encouraged, and my spirit is lifted up. I have a purpose... and darn it, if all that means is that I float in this ocean talking to Wilson until the end of my days, then that is what I will do. I would hope that those I meet along the way are somehow affected by my longing for knowing God's heart. I would hope that my adventures and experiences would only make me effective enough to serve a new purpose tomorrow. I would sincerely hope that, whether by life or by death, Christ would be honored in my body, despite this weakened and bruised heart of a homeless, yet passionate wanderer.
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