In Matthew 6:22-23, Jesus said:
The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are good, you whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!I wonder how many believers think they have experienced light when they've only known "Indiana sunny." If we convince ourselves that we have attained the purest form of light, yet ignorantly live in darkness, then our standard becomes skewed. We see the world physically through misguided eyes, thus defining corrupt things as light. If placed under spiritual eyes, we would discover that our light has been less-dark darkness!
This has me wondering: how much "ministry" do we justify as God's work, simply because the world around us is that much worse? How little light have we known that we look to dark things to shine upon darker things?
4 comments:
haha... wow, I have totally experienced this with the Indiana sky. Specifically with the stars. I remember other students in college proclaiming how "spectacular" the sky was that night and when I went out to look at the sky- I could barely count 30 stars... which was a lot compared to the few we had seen for the last month. I realized that night that so many people had thought they had seen something so amazing when in fact what they were peering at was a measly shadow compared to the distinct clear nights where I had seen layers upon layers of stars including the distinct view of the milky way in my middle of no where- no light pollution- home in the mountains. They didn't even know what they were really missing out on. (They did have lightning bugs though- which I had never seen :)
I totally get what you are saying. In actuality it is not the size of the light, but the pureness of it. Even one match can light the deepest darkest cave, but a covered lamp just becomes another darkened object in the midst of it.
Yeah...Indiana is not the place for stargazing, but the same natural haze makes for the best sunsets in the continental U.S. Something about the sun hitting the moisture turns the sky a million different colors.
When I directed summer camp, I had the privilege of facing west while leading our evening campfire services, and I never grew tired of the sunsets. When the moon appeared, the lightning bugs would surround us.
By the way, your referring to them as "lightning bugs" rather than "fireflies" has exposed your Hoosier roots. Well done :)
As much as the sky was never incredibly clear... my roomates house in North Central Indiana is a place I dream of going again. There is something about the peace and tranquility surrounding the grassy hills and ponds and lakes along with the hazy sky. There were times I would go out in the field behind her house and read against a tree and deer would come and lay in the field near by. It was an amazing place where I met the Lord in some amazing ways... hazy sky and all.
I sometimes think of the place we're at as a "church" in America and I wonder if we even really know what "church" is. Our idea usually consists of announcements, worship, and a speaker, then getting dismissed and going home. I experienced "church" in another country at a prayer meeting one night... we met with other believers who simply shared about the works of God they had seen in their lives throughout the week, intermixed with times of prayer and praise. It was beautiful, uplifting and empowering. We didn't go in with any agenda or even a schedule, just hearts ready to meet the Lord.
I'm not saying church and organization are bad, but I do think that being led by the Spirit of God was the way the Lord intended it to be done (and I have seen them beautifully combined).
I do however wonder, do I even know what being the "body and bride of Christ" is like? I get the feeling I'm missing out on so much more.
As one that hasn't attended a traditional American church service in two years (and hasn't regularly attended one in five), I won't dispute anything you've said here.
I can only speak from my own experience: I spent my entire life in the church, gave ten years to youth ministry, and never understood the Bride of Christ until I sacrificed it all. With the absence of an agenda, a band, a sermon, or a dismissal time, my brothers and sisters met with the sole intention of meeting with God.
He never disappointed us...ever. My history with the traditional church was too long to consider the difference coincidental. Simply put: I found God when I stopped limiting His move. And among those who made the same choice, His purposes were revealed. It wasn't magic, and we didn't follow the formula of a successful leader. Where intentional hearts are gathered, He makes Himself known. It isn't more complicated than that.
When I zealously spoke about reformation, people often asked why I hated the church. But if I loved her at all, how could I not want her redeemed? My speech has since been replaced with action; I cannot convince someone who loves the institution to desire something else. His Spirit is not a matter of debate, as if I must prove to others that He speaks clearly when Christ said He would. I had to sacrifice and find out for myself. I only testify that the Bride is more than most Americans know because I've seen her unblemished.
Post a Comment