JR. Forasteros - August 25, 2013
Evangelism
When we hear the term "Evangelism" we think of guys standing on corners with signs, yelling through bullhorns. But that's not how Jesus taught us to share the Good News about him and the new life he brings us. In Matthew 10, we see his followers sent out as guests, about visiting and staying a while, living life with those far from God and showing them what Jesus' new life looks like. We're not evangelizing until both our words and our lives announce who Jesus is!
From Series: "Priceless Kingdom"
How easily do we reduce Jesus' new life to 'spirituality'? We think of God's Kingdom as one area of our lives - what we do on Sundays, or with a small group, or when we're engaging in religious activities. But Jesus tells us stories that invite us to imagine a Kingdom so big it encompasses our whole lives. A new life that can't be measured, can't be quantified because it's too big, too excellent. This kingdom is worth everything we have and more. It demands everything from us and when we give it all, we wish we could give more. This new life Jesus offers is priceless!
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In the years after Hurricane Katrina devastated the city of New Orleans, I went to the city to do relief work several times. It was during those trips I learned that what victims of disasters want most isn’t necessarily the relief work. Every trip went more-or-less the same:
A big group of us would show up and get to work. Maybe we were gutting a home so it could be cleansed of mold and rebuilt. Maybe we were cleaning up vacant lots to beautify a city block for the other residents. Mostly we were gutting homes – tearing out sheetrock and ripping up flooring. It was brutal, exhausting work, particularly in the New Orleans summers.
The residents would always be nearby, helping if they could or in their FEMA trailers making lemonade for us workers.
And inevitably, over the three or four days we were there, each of us would end up just sitting and talking with that resident. Despite the fact that we were on a schedule. Even though we were working hard to get their home finished.
What they needed most wasn’t a new home (though, obviously, that was important).
What they needed most wasn’t our strong backs and hard work. What they needed most, every time, was human interaction. They needed to tell their story, to be seen and heard, to know they’re not alone in their grief.
Again and again, what gave them hope was not the pounding hammers and loaded wheelbarrows, but a person sitting with them, being present with them.
What does it means to be WITH someone in times of grief? The final movement of Lament is hope, an anticipation that grief is not the final word.
