The first time I heard the song "What Do I Know of Holy?" by Addison Road on the radio, I really liked it. I thought it was beautiful, but the lyrics really didn't impact me. I learned them, though, and sang along each time I heard it. Then something changed in me...
I've started a new small group this season. It's based on Max Lucado's book, Outlive Your Life.
The study is rooted in the book of Acts. It questions our lives as we are currently living them; asking if we should stay in our safe comfort zones, or if God really meant it when He said that "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." (James 1:27) We have the decision right now to do something about hunger, poverty, orphans, the unloved, the hurting. WE have the capability. WE DO. YOU and I. RIGHT NOW.
Enter the marriage of "What do I Know of Holy?" and "Outlive Your Life."
"If you touched my face, would I know You? Looked into my eyes, could I behold You?" If I am doing nothing for the hurting in my community, in our world... what DO I know of His holiness? I DO know the stories; I CAN talk about His mightiness... but what about His desperate love for those who are DYING TODAY because they aren't being fed, or loved, or clothed. Did you know that in the last 5 minutes, NINETY children have already died of preventable illness?? 90!!! During my half hour lunch, every single day, that means that 540 children are dying... and I am doing almost nothing about it. What DO I know of Holy?
Now... I probably am not going to be able to save 2,160 children each week (the number who die during my lunch break during the 4 days that I work). I know that I make a difference in the life of the little girl I sponsor through Compassion. Many of the people I associate with do more than what most comfortable Americans (even American Christians) would say is "our part." But would God have me, would God have any of us stop there?
Questions that have bombarded me this past week:
* Why have I not re-examined foster care and gotten that process started?
* Why do I feel I have to wait until I am married before I can adopt?
* Why have I never volunteered with the food bank through my church?
* Why do I walk by so many needs in my own community and remain, for the most part, unaffected?
The answers (and resolutions) to these questions are between me and God. However, here is the question to YOU:
When your grandchildren discover you lived during a day in which 1.75 billion people were poor and 1 billion were hungry, how will they judge your response?