Conviction, or: Confessions, pt. II

So 1 Kings 19 describes the voice of God as a "still, small voice." God tells Elijah to wait to hear His voice and He causes an earthquake, a fire, a mighty wind, and some other things, and His voice is not present in any of them. Then comes the still small voice. A breeze. A soft whisper. Which I think is pretty cool, because we expect God to be this big mighty voice that shakes the walls and knocks people over. Which He is certainly capable of. But, this particular passage of the Bible chooses to describe the voice of God as a still, small voice. I think when people hear that phrase, they expect it to be this gentle whisper, this pleasant little thing that just kind of comes along and is all like "Oh, the dear sweet eight pound six ounce baby Jesus wants me to go do this" and they just peacefully move along and easily transition into whatever the 8 lb. 6 oz. version of our Savior wants them to do. But I don't think that's necessarily how it works.

Sometimes, the still small voice doubles as a kick to the nuts.

That expression may be a little crass, but it's the truth. I know because it has been happening to me time and time again over the last 2 weeks. Maybe I'll write about the other stuff some other time, but this time I'm focusing on tonight.

During our evening worship service, Scott Ross spoke briefly and then had some different groups come up and share about their experiences on various mission trips over the last few months. We've had people serving here in Mississippi, Mexico, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and India, and each group had a pretty cool story to tell. The particular story that moved me the most was a story about a lady named Wincey. She had a husband and four kids, but then her husband died and she started to struggle with abusing drugs and alcohol. Then, in an attempt to make some money to keep her home, she started working at a strip club. After three days, she realized enough was enough and reached out to several churches in the area and Crossgates reached out and helped her rebuild a burned out trailer someone had given her. During the story, Wincey actually came down to the front of the church and told bits and pieces of her story with the other guy who was talking. After they finished talking and walked off, something hit me.

A former stripper came down to the front of the church and told her story.

In the church. In a place where people often times feel judged and condemned, this lady felt comfortable enough to do that. That blew my mind, and honestly I was thanking God that I went to a church where something like that could happen.

But throughout the night, as we heard story after story of God's redemptive love moving in incredible ways around the world, I started to hear the voice. I feel like I very clearly heard God tell me "Chandler, this is what I want for you. This is the plan I have for you."

And that was the kick to the balls.

I saw the passion that the people speaking had for other people and for the Gospel and I realized...I don't have that. I'm closer than I was, but I'm not there yet. But the conviction came when I realized I'm the one slowing up the process. I'm the one who sits around and plays XBOX for hours on end. I'm the one who continually flirts with the line in almost every situation. I'm the one who says a quick five minute prayer before I go to sleep. I'm terribly lazy - I pretty much have been my whole life. I mean, I'm the guy who would go to campus, try to find a parking spot, not find a parking spot, and go home. Diligence has just never been a strong suit of mine.

But I realized tonight...I want that passion. I want my heart to break for something - whether it's middle school students at Crossgates (which actually it already has to an extent) or starving old people in Africa, I want that passion.

And I want a deeper passion for the Gospel.

So many times I think people (myself definitely included) look at the Gospel as just...I don't know how to explain it other than to tell a story. I'm paraphrasing, but this is a story from John Piper's Desiring God. He tells the story of a minister who is asked if he were to find out on his deathbed that Jesus was fake, that the whole story was made up, how would it change his life? And the guy answers that he'd be sad, sure, but he could at least take solace in the fact he was nice to other people, helped people, and just generally lived a good life.

Piper makes the point that that is the WRONG answer. 1 Corinthians 15:17 says that if Christ is not risen then our faith is FUTILE. If this isn't true...if this isn't real, we are wasting our lives. But if it is, and I believe it, my life has purpose. My life is not just there, it is real and purposeful.

And so...why don't I live that way? Why do I do the things I do? Why do I not do the things I don't do?

I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to sit back and just let stuff happen - I want to take life head on. I want my heart to break for something, for someone. Like I said, I'm getting there, but I'm the one slowing this up.

I have no idea what I'm going to do - no clue what's going to change this or if it even will any time soon. But eventually it will. Eventually it's going to. I just don't want it to happen five years from now and I realize...hey, I should have done this years ago.

I also realize that this life is not performance based. It's not up to be to initiate any of this, and I definitely can't do it without a calling. But if I'm called, and I just sit there...well, that's a bad idea too.

Anyway, these are just some thoughts at 2:30 in the morning.
<3chanchan