I have a greatest fear.
My greatest fear is that I will never be enough of a credit to my great God, that all people will ever see are the cracks in the broken vessel that I am and that they’ll miss the saving grace inside. My greatest fear is people missing God because of me.
That’s my greatest fear.
It’s funny, though, that although this is my greatest fear, I still forget myself. I carry myself so carelessly. When the chance comes, I can’t find the words.
Over and over again. My flaws and failures.
You don’t understand how excited I am by someone wanting to know my God. How do I even begin? I’m so excited to share this amazing person with you, so excited that you’re curious about him, that you want to know more.
Don’t you see? If you end up believing Him, you would have escaped eternal damnation and begin a new life with a purpose, with Lord and king. You would be saved. Can you understand the burden I have for you? Because you don’t know Him, we could lose you to hell. You could die. And I love you too much to want that, and can you imagine how much worse it would be for the God who did die for you.
I don’t like to pretend it doesn’t matter to me because it does. A lot. Eternity matters, to me at least. But I have to play it cool, because social etiquette sometimes. No one likes to talk about death, or the afterlife. “As long as I’m a good person right. I don’t deserve hell.” It’s not about being ‘a good person’. It’s so much more. I used to preach fire and brimstone because that was the reality for me. It still is. I don’t want people I know to not go to Heaven. I want to do everything I can to share this wonderful person I know. I don’t preach fire and brimstone now but that urgency is always there and I do want to share so much.
This is why we (or any religion for that matter, some more common than others) have street evangelism. I know people get annoyed by it sometimes and wonder why we do it, why we can’t just respect your status quo. Look at it from our perspective: imagine we’re all on a boat and only we know it’s sinking and only we know where the lifeboats are because we’re the crew. Of course we would want to tell you where it is. We can’t just leave you on the sinking ship. Whether or not you believe the ship is sinking or if the lifeboats are where we say they are or whether you want to get on the lifeboats or not, as the crew, we have to, we must tell you where the lifeboats are. That’s what any decent human being would do, not just religious people. Whether or not we are deluded into thinking something’s a lifeboat or not is a different ball game. So it may be annoying to you, but understand this, we have to at least tell you. It’s honestly our moral obligation.
And yet I fear I’m not enough. Too afraid of people, what they might think of me. Too afraid to offend. Too afraid to come across too pushy. Afraid that I might answer questions unconvincingly, or to not be able to answer questions at all. Too afraid of everything.
I profess Christ as my Lord and Saviour and believe that we are all works-in-progress. Christians aren’t perfect. They can’t be. They’re only human. I’m only human.
But sometimes I feel that I have to be perfect for Christ to be seen. How can He deserve anything less?
I know the logic; when I’m weak, then I’m strong. God’s glory and strength and power seen through my human weakness.
But I can’t see anything. I have some better days than others, but why am I always caught out on my bad days? Does it say something about me?
There is a plan, and I know I’m part of it. It’s just too incredible sometimes to think that even though it looks dark on this end, He’s got it covered and sorted. Everything begins and ends with Him.
It’s not something I have to bear alone, this burden. I know, I know it’s a partnership. Methinks I have to lean more and not try to carry it all on my human strength.
Because God is God.