Sunday, November 9, 2014

Start a Fire In Me

This week has been full of awesome revelations. Our church has been hosting a missions conference, where missionaries from all over the world have come to be refreshed and renewed, and to also share their testimonies and the stories of their mission fields. We spent Wednesday night in prayer for the conference, the missionaries, the unreached souls, the workers, our church body. Never have I been part of a congregation who takes the Great Commission so to heart. I am humbled. Then Friday night through tonight, we had speakers, services, breakout sessions, and lots and lots of prayer. This week has made me reach on my bookshelf and dust off a book I bought a few years ago, but never got around to finishing: Radical by David Platt.

I am in the 4th chapter, and boy, do I feel overwhelmed! Humbled. Challenged. Seeing and realizing how much we as Americans trade off for simple comforts. Paying the gospel message lip-service, but never following through. Picking and choosing which parts we are COMMANDED to obey, and which parts we can choose to obey. The American Dream and the Gospel Message are practically polar opposites, but we try so hard to mash them together. I am not pointing fingers...well, actually I am. But they are pointing straight at myself. Our church has a local mission field, Freeway Ministries, that I have been honored to take part in. I am beginning to be more and more passionate for these people! A spark that I hadn't heeded in a while is beginning to burn brighter. I am seeing the need in my own back yard, and at the same time, it is opening my eyes to the world beyond. There is much work to be done, and He is calling all of us to take part.

Walking through our foyer tonight, I stopped at every booth and picked up a card for each missionary present. I am hoping to put these all on our schoolroom wall, and I want the kids to start praying SPECIFICALLY for these missionaries and the countries and people they are living among. I want to see the connections being made. These missionaries are no longer names on a list on the back of our Sunday bulletin. My kids have met them. They have seen their children. They have heard some of the stories. Now, they will know who they are praying for, and I pray their eyes will be opened. That their hearts will be pricked. And that their passion for lost souls grows. We will see where God leads us as a family, or as individuals, but until then...we will pray.

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