My mother has been telling me I should read this book for months. However, the description on the back, plus her method of promotion (a whole lot of doom and gloom), wasn't exactly appealing:
Last week, I found the book atop my flame-patterned comforter that my sister had made in back in high school Home Ec. class. Symbolism? End-times, flames . . . anyone? Okay, bad joke. I set the book on my desk, and as embarrassing as it is to say, I avoided it. I did. And I'm going to tell you the honest-to-goodness truth why.
The truth is, I was afraid. I get that, as a Christian, I'm supposed to be all caught up on my end-times stuff, and ready to go. After all, eternity in Heaven = awesome, right? Except I am absolutely terrified at the thought of what comes after this. I shouldn't be, because, Heaven = awesome, remember? But I'm ashamed to admit that I'm not sure I want it to come yet. I'm selfish; I am going to be 22 years old in September, getting married in less than a year, and I want to enjoy it. And when I spell it out to myself, it doesn't make sense that I want to enjoy the life God gave me a little while longer more than I want to go spend this incredible eternity in Heaven with Him . . . does it? I'm chalking my confusion up to the fact that my puny human brain can't comprehend eternity, along with fear of such a vast unknown.
The point is, I was avoiding that book like the plague because I had it in my head that, "Oh, if I ignore the thought of the imminent end, it'll just go away, and I'll die of old age first!" And who knows, maybe I will die of old age first; I don't know how God runs His timer, whether it ticks in seconds or years, I don't know.
The book sat on my desk for a good few days before I opened it up somewhere in the middle and started reading (something I don't normally let myself do), just to get a feel for it. And oddly enough, although I didn't quite understand what I was reading, I was intrigued. But, just then, my dad called me down to come feed my horse, and the book remained untouched for a few more days.
And then, earlier this evening, I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed (something I do waaay too often) and I saw this title of an article: 7 Signs You Might Love Comfort More than Jesus.
I'm going to make another confession to you: when scrolling through my news feed, I'm more likely to click on an article about animals than an article about Jesus. And even though I've asked myself dozens of times why, I still don't really have an answer.
So when I saw this article, I slowly got around to clicking on it, and 2 of the 7 reasons suddenly popped out at me, like little road work signs, signaling me to pay attention.
3.) YOU TALK LIKE AN ATHIEST
That one felt like a slap in the face. Here was the description beneath it:
Whatever you are passionate about you will talk about. Are you passionate about God?
Whatever you are passionate about you will talk about. Write that down. When I met my wife, called all my friends. I even called people I didn’t know. I wanted the world to know this beautiful, amazing woman actually liked me.
What about God? Are you passionate about Him? Would any of your co-workers or classmates know you are a Christian? When comfort drives the train, God takes a back seat.
And I thought about it: am I passionate about God? Before I even got done asking myself that question, my brain already had the answer, and it was a sick-making, resounding No that echoed through me like motion waves traveling through metal into your hands, which hurts, by the way. I don't talk about God to my friends; I don't want to "offend" anybody who doesn't have the same beliefs as I do. That's complacency. Nobody likes to hear the truth when it hurts. Hence why I was avoiding The Harbinger.
6.) YOU VIEW CHRISTIAN LIVING AS A LIST OF “DON’TS.”
You can do nothing wrong and still do nothing right-Mark Batterson
Comfort-driven Christians have a laundry list of “don’ts.” They believe in righteousness by subtraction. So, you won’t catch them drinking or cursing…at least not in public.
But righteousness by subtraction is one-sided righteousness. It’s half truth.
The whole truth is your heart should grieve as much when you fail to live out the “dos” as it does when you fail to refrain from the “don’ts.” But comfortable Christians don’t like the “dos.” It involves them getting out of their comfort zone. It involves them taking the message of the gospel to their neighbor. It involves them feeding the poor and correcting injustices.
Are you minimizing righteousness to a list of “don’ts”? Does your heart break for those who don’t know Jesus? Do you grieve when you pass over an opportunity to plead the cause of the poor and oppressed? Is your heart desensitized to the orphans and widows?
If not, maybe it’s time to ask whether you follow comfort or Jesus.
I am comfortable in my ignorance. And that revelation makes me extremely uncomfortable. I don't like going outside my comfort zone; it's terrifying. And yet, when I do, I seem to forget later that the results are quite amazing. This whole night has just been incredibly unsettling. Like, toomanyspinsontheMerryGoRoundandifItrytowalkI'mgoingtoinvoluntarilyfallintothatgarbagecan-unsettling. And also like trying to read that was probably unsettling.
After going through the article twice, I ran upstairs, grabbed The Harbinger, and brought it down to my nest on the couch. Time to get out of my comfort zone, I thought. Once I started, I was doing that annoying thing you do when you read a really suspenseful book (you bookworms will know what I'm talking about): you always skip ahead. Maybe it's only a few words, maybe it's a paragraph, or maybe it's what I was doing, which was beginning at the top of one page and finding myself skipping clear over to the bottom of the page across from it. I just finished the book about half an hour ago, which was close to 3:00 AM; I started it 4 and a half hours ago. I only put it down to go pee, check a few facts, and get a drink of water because the things I was reading and checking were making my mouth and throat go dry.
Like I said earlier, from the description on the back, this book sounds like some conspiracy theory type book, but I kid you not, it couldn't be farther from it. The book is written in a narrative style, which makes the details easier to understand, as opposed to a simple fact-by-fact list kind of deal.
Guys, I don't really expect this to resonate with all of you, but what do you have to lose by giving this a shot? By this, I mean the book, but also, God. You may be someone who thinks this "God stuff" is a bunch of horse-pucky, but I ask you honestly: what do you have to lose by giving this a shot? If anything, it'll just give you something to ponder.
Here is a small part of the end of the book that stuck with me:
"As it is written, 'Now is the time of salvation,' never tomorrow, only now."
"But if we're talking tomorrow, it could still happen then."
"Yes, but only when then has become now, and tomorrow is today. But when it does, you may not be there.
"And why wouldn't I be?"
"How far away from eternity do you think you are, Nouriel?"
"How could I possibly know that?"
"But you can know that," he replied.
"Then what's the answer?" I asked. "How far am I away from eternity?"
"One heartbeat," he replied. " . . . . One heartbeat and there's no more choosing . . ."
"But if I didn't choose..."
"Then you already have. . . ." . . . .
"It's too big a decision to make just like that."
"It's too big a decision not to," he said. . . .
"I need time."
"And you have it, Nouriel...up until the last heartbeat."
One heartbeat away. That saying, "live like you're dying?" It has merit, guys. But my question is what, who, are you living for? Is it worth dying for? Is it worth dying an eternal death for? A lot in this world is uncertain. You may even be uncertain about the very existence of God. But would it be so bad if He were real?
Christians get a lot of grief about being judgmental and cliquey, and trying to shove religion down everyone else's throats. And you know what? I get that; I get why half of my friends say they hate Christians. Because some of us really are like that.
A lot of people I know say they want nothing to do with religion, or when they hear about God, say "I'm not religious." But I will quote another line from this book that said exactly what I always wanted to say to those people, people I love: "'Being religious has nothing to do with it,' he said. 'There's no religion in Heaven, only love.'"
I know I've taken excerpts from this book twice, really close together, but here's just one more that hit me hard:
"It's the call of God to a nation once dedicated to His purposes but now falling away from His will. It's the call of God to return."
"And a call to those who follow His ways...to believers?"
"Exactly."
"But why would believers have to return?" I asked.
"The call of repentance is for the righteous and unrighteous, the godly and ungodly alike. If the righteous had been the lights they were called to be, the nation would never have fallen as it did."
I'd say that's pretty clear, eh, my fellow Christians? A lot of us aren't even worthy to be called Christians; we are not anywhere close to being an embodiment of Christ. Don't worry, I'm including myself in that collective "we." I've been a pretty poor advocate for God and his love. That last line was humbling for me to read; if I metaphorically fell any closer to the ground, I'd be eating dirt.
Give this book a try. Better yet, give God a try, an earnest, soul-searching try. You won't regret it.
No comments:
Post a Comment