Sharing

I was in a study this week when I started to laugh to myself. We were talking about talking to others about Christ. Suddenly I felt like we were more like a sales meeting at used car dealership than a church. I was trying to imagine under just what circumstances I would feel comfortable laying this longwinded spiel we usually refer to as “the gospel” on anyone, especially someone I didn’t know. Perhaps some of it was my own difficulty in dealing with others, but the whole thing sounded way too artificial.

Let us be honest. We live in a country where the majority of people claim to “believe” in God, whatever that means. There are is no shortage of churches in the US. To make matters worse, there are times when atheists and non-believers put us to shame with their grasp of what true spirituality is, or should be.

Before we even consider sharing our faith with others we must be sure that it is authentic.  Without a personal relationship with Christ we have nothing to share. Forget the formulas and the preprogrammed responses. I can talk about what God’s grace means to my life much more enthusiastically  than I ever could the tired recitations we have all heard before. You never know exactly what the other person needs to hear. The Holy Spirit does.

Joy

It was a bad day and it started going downhill fast. I suppose at some place I should have seen where things were going and just let go of the imagined grievances that were multiplying moment by moment. I believed God had it in for me and I was going to complain until someone somewhere would listen and grant me justice.

  God can take it, but I can't. I was exhausted. Yes it was a foolish thing to do. God is not someone I could haul before a judge and win my complaint. Yes, I had been under a great deal of stress and one could argue to hold it in would not be good. Yet I was a fool and only the intensity of my emotions kept me from realizing it.

I needed peace. I was ready to surrender to being a victim one more time. If only there were something I could do that would bring me joy for just a little while. What could I do? Where could I go?

I received an answer. I remembered. The only time I have ever felt joy was when I received it from God. There was joy when I became a Christian. There was joy when I saw that God could bless others through me. There was joy when God reached into my life in place too isolated for anyone to reach.

The whole incident is probably best forgotten. I know, there will be other days like this. Perhaps there is no reason why I should have written this down for others to see. One extreme emotional state is just as unreliable as another, and just as meaningless.But maybe I owe it to God to confess my sin. Maybe I need a reminder that God is merciful, even when I do not deserve it or recognize it.