The Most Important Thing

I know that people have a lot of reasons for doing good things. A motive commonly deemed "noble" is if we do things for other people regardless of what it might cost us, and even if we get nothing in return. Unfortunately, there is a widespread view that Christians desire to help other people in order for themselves to look good. Like, "Yay, I earned points in heaven today by helping you! Look how good I'm being, God!" Even more unfortunately, a lot of times this is true.

There was this time in my Junior year in high school during which I struggled immensely with huge doubts and had a lot of trouble holding to a faith that just didn't seem worth it. The kind of faith I had wasn't adding anything to my life. I was working through a lot of difficult theological questions (that I most certainly STILL don't have figured out) about predestination and free-will and punishment and redemption. But what bothered me most was other Christians. If people had the Holy Spirit living inside of them, why was it that they cared about such STUPID things? I began to compare them with people who didn't claim the name of Christ, but I saw working selflessly to give and give to help other people. I stopped talking to God because I felt like I was talking to nothing, and I just didn't understand Him or His people. I felt really empty and quite frankly, MISERABLE.

One day when I went to church there were these kids from all over the world that came to sing and advocate for giving to help those in poverty. Most of them were orphans or from really unsafe or developing countries. It was sort of like a traveling children's choir. It is really important that you understand I was not looking for a reason to believe that God was important in this equation. As I sceptically looked over the program, I noticed one orphan boy in particular from an underprivileged country that wanted to grow up to be a pastor when he grew up--because Jesus was everything to him.  

During the service in between some of their songs, they showed a video of some of the most poverty stricken areas in the world. These were the kind of places these kids came from—where they went through great lengths to find water to drink that most of us wouldn’t give to our dogs; where it was not uncommon to watch people around you die of preventable diseases—or starvation; where owning one pair of shoes makes them considered blessed… 

As I watched this video anger swelled within me. It seemed so unfair. Something is just not right about the fact that I could have five square meals a day if I wanted to while children and the helpless are suffering from starvation all over the world. Something is not right about the fact that I complain about the stupidest things—things that most people would even call me privileged for—when other people never have half the chances I do. A chord was struck inside of me that I will not forget and I cannot ignore.

I sat, enraged at the people who know this is going on and do nothing about it. More than that, I was furious at myself for having the means to do something, and not doing anything. Out of bitterness, I began to question things. Why was it so important for us to spread the gospel? These people needed help, not words! I felt like Christians wasted so much time and energy on preaching to people when they could do so much more if they just focused on their needs!

These thoughts were seething through my mind and the children began to sing again. I sought out the boy I had read about beforehand. I felt extreme pity on him as I searched for him among the singers. When my eyes finally lit upon him, I discovered something.

His face was shining. He was singing with all of his heart toward someone that I had forgotten about. I kid you not, I could ACTUALLY SEE the love beaming out of his face. He worshiped without a shadow of a doubt for his creator, and his rescuer. I still cannot even think of it without tears coming to my eyes, that’s how powerful this boy’s countenance was.

And then there was this, “Ooooooh, THAT’S why!” moment where I understood how much we as people need Christ. Here was this boy who had probably been through much more in his short life-time than I had ever even come close to in mine, and yet he found a hope that could cause him to sing with joy like that. Here was I, miserable and complaining and doubting and fearing while he was able to worship and LIVE whole-heartedly. It is possible to be living and breathing and have an abundance and still be dead. I need Christ. In that moment (and thanks to that boy) I knew this once again.

The thing that truly amazes me about that whole situation was that I wasn’t looking for it. I wanted any reason I could find to condemn what was going on here. What I saw in that kid’s face was not made-up. It was real, so powerfully real.

I think I just forgot there is a much deeper need that goes beyond the physical. There is more than just this life and this world at stake, for we are eternal beings. I want to be able to spread the kind of new life that Jesus has given me to other people. I want others to be able to know the kind of hope and love and joy that cannot be taken away by this depraved world.

This does not go to say that I don’t want to help other people when they need it. Jesus healed people's bodies as well as their souls. His entire ministry is about redeeming a broken and hurting world. Injustice still angers me to tears, enough to do everything in my power to try to prevent it. I have a responsibility to look after those in their distress. “To whom much has been given, much is required.” I have been given much, and there is so much that I can give. I will not ignore the hungry, the helpless, the hurting,—but I also see a relationship with Christ as the most important thing I could possibly bring to anyone. The hope that boy found can be found by others and what takes precedence over all else is my ability to know God and His love and bring others to know Him too. Loving through the meeting of physical needs is just a means of doing that. It is a way of living out the gospel, not the goal itself.

 

I guess you could say I am more of a symbolic-interactionist when it comes to sociology. I look at the problem from an individual stand-point. I do not believe that I can personally change the world. I do believe that I can introduce to individuals the person who can (and did, and will). The world in a lot of ways just keeps getting worse. I don’t think we should spend all our time and energy on trying to solve the world’s social problems because it just isn’t going to happen. This doesn’t mean that we should ignore injustice or let things go. I plan on doing everything within my power to right the wrongs that I see done to people as individuals. I cannot, however, go around trying to save the world. I just work on behalf of someone who already did. Because, honestly, who are we to redeem the world? I am just a tool used by him to make his light and redemption known. 

And that is the truly beautiful thing—redemption. He takes what is broken and polluted

and disgusting in this world and makes it new again. We are used by him for this purpose, but we must remember that it is entirely Him. Everything is about Him and for Him. Without the cross, none of it matters. It doesn’t matter how many women we get out of the sex trade or how many wells we build in Africa or how many children in Ethiopia we feed because this world and this life will pass away. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do these things—these are very important to the heart of Christ. He even says, “Whatever you did to the least of these, you did for me.” We love Him by loving others and are loved by Him through others.

What really matters is that people can spend an eternity with the Father who loves them enough to give His life for them. That is exactly the reason why I went to Bible school before I did anything else. I want to know this message through and through so I can bring it to others. I believe my life can serve no greater purpose.

How He Works

Sometimes I feel like Scrooge from A Christmas Carol. Not because I hate Christmas. (I love Christmas.) It's because of the moments I find myself being confronted by the ghosts of my past present and future all at once, and the outcome is a completely different outlook on life. Change is possible.

Early Influences and Interests

I can remember sitting in my second-grade desk listening to stories our teacher told of a missionary named Amy Carmichael. She lived in a place called India and provided a home for hundreds of children who needed it. Her story was special and memorable to me because God didn't give her certain things that she wanted, and for good reason. When she was a child she used to pray every day that God would change her eyes from brown to blue, and every day she would wake up disappointed that her eyes were still brown. In her work in India, brown eyes became one crucial aspect for her to blend in with and gain cultural acceptance of the people.
God does a lot of not giving me what I want, but I think sometimes when I realize this, I feel extra loved because then I better see how I have already been given all I need.
Throughout my life and especially in high school I have had a lot of experiences in this. When you don't get something that you are greatly desiring and kind of counting on, (and sometimes the littlest things can be a big deal in high school,) you can either respond in self-pity, or with an attitude of acceptance. It was during major times of self-pity that I was pulled out of it by seeing a larger perspective. What do these things matter if in the end I do not gain Christ? He became to me every reason for living. The desire to know Him superseded all other desires and produced in me a want to not be selfish anymore. It's just not worth it.
I also did a report on Amy Carmichael in a later grade, learning that she rescued children who had been sold into temple prostitution. The idea of forced prostitution enraged me, because it is such a violation of something that should be a personal choice. Reading about the amount of pain that these children had gone through before they came to Amy became like an echoing voice in my head.
Just because I began to recognize my inherent selfishness doesn't mean I all of the sudden became good at living an unselfish life. Most of my decisions still wreaked of motives to benefit solely me. But luckily I had groups of people to point me in the right direction. I went on a trip with my church youth group to New Orleans the summer after my junior year in high school. It was incredible because of how well our team of teenagers worked together, how much work we did, and how little anyone complained. Gutting houses as a part of Katrina relief in that humid, hot, sticky, smelly air was probably the hardest I have every physically labored in my life. But it was also the most rewarding. People would pull over on the road when they saw us and get out of their cars and personally thank us for helping rebuild their city. For the first time in a long time I felt as if what I was doing actually was worth something. And I knew God better by it.
We were given time in the mornings just to pray and spend time reading the Bible. The last morning we were there, I asked God to speak to me. I wanted to know what He wanted of me, and in that moment I was so willing to do whatever. After praying this, "God, have me!" kind of prayer, I opened up my Bible and ended up at Matthew 28, wanting to read something as joyous as I felt. I read about the best miracle of Jesus rising to life, and praised Him for it. But what next? His words to His closest followers spoke that day directly to me, (verse 19) "Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you."
I stopped, almost unable to breathe. Maybe you have experienced when the Word of God talks to you as if it were written for you in that moment. I can't describe very well what it felt like when I read this. In that moment I was overwhelmed by something very much greater than myself. It scared me a little. And then I finished the verse. 
"And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."
And that was enough.
This marked the first time I felt called to go. Where to? No idea. To follow completely was all I knew I must do. 

How did it begin?

When people find out what kind of work we have been doing in Traffic Light, what I want to do this summer in India, and potentially what I could devote my whole life to-stopping the horrors of sex-trafficking and bringing hope to those who have suffered through it-they typically want to know what made me so interested in this in the first place. Why is this subject so important to me?
It's a good question that I don't even know how to answer directly or quickly. How DID I go from selfishly ignoring injustice to crying like a baby in church at Christmas time because of the words "Surely He taught us to love one another... Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother, and in His Name, all oppression shall cease"? I think this burden upon me or passion within me (or whatever you want to call it) had several beginnings. It was one of those things that kept coming up, again and again until I could no longer push it out of my mind. It wouldn't leave me. God wouldn't let it.
My goal in this blog is to take you to those places in my life where my perspective has been changed and I have grown the most. I want you to share in the process of how my understanding has morphed and my goals and dreams have shifted. I invite you to know me better through this and hopefully also better know the God who keeps blowing my mind with His compassion for this world.