I can't get this out of my mind. Like
some sort of living, breathing marquee, the scenes scroll through my
memory without end.
Little brown faces. Their countenance
betrays the hollowness of their lives.
Cities. Big cities. No church steeples
here, only temples to gods that don't exist aside from imagination,
yet the Enemy of souls takes fiendish advantage of their ignorance.
I still hear their voices, speaking a
language I only understand a dozen words of. They live, for what
purpose, they know not.
I was there.
And yet, here I sit, on my comfortable
bed, typing on my late-model laptop, looking at all sorts of material
possessions. I look over at my nightstand. Loaded with books. On top
are my Bible & a 'Desire of ages'. They don't have either one,
for the most part.
I hear of other ones. These ones have
darker skin. No one wants to visit their country – it's too
desolate. Kinda like the ends of the earth, you might say. They can't
even get medicine to their hospital. Let alone enough qualified help.
And here I sit. On my comfortable bed.
Somehow, it doesn't feel comfortable,
anymore.
I crave those hard, ironwood floors I
slept on there.
I have this insatiable desire for the
deeper spirituality that comes from kneeling in a church with no
pews, fellowshipping with like believers, many of whom don't speak my
language.
Yes, I can sit here in my velvet lined
pew, singing 'Jesus loves me'. But I can never rest content when
there's billions of others who don't know the song or it's meaning
yet.
I wonder if I've lost my grip on
reality. But I simply can't help myself. Like some strange disease,
once you get the bug for working to help others, you can't shake it.
And I wouldn't want to, anyway.
By God's grace, I'll go, soon. I don't
know where, but He's taking me somewhere. Somewhere where they need
Him.
But for now, I write. And I will
continue writing, sharing, filming, photographing, you name it.
Why?
One reason. I would do it all, if even
one person would catch the bug from it. One more person to add to the
ranks of missionaries. For that, I would use all my spare time
sharing.
Because you never really can experience
Christ till you give all.
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