Yesterday, as the rest of our team was finishing up their packing and preparing for the next day’s farewell to Casablanca, I found myself sitting alone listening to John Mayer and Switchfoot oldies for a few hours in the living room of our little apartment. But during this little time of isolation that was meant to bring some rest and peace of mind I began to reflect and process our month in Morocco and I started to do something I hadn’t done since launch…
I cried.
This month was hard.
Coming off an incredible debrief in Spain, I was looking forward to our first 10/40 country. I was looking forward to seeing my first Arab culture while having the opportunity to talk with and befriend muslims. I was looking forward to showing them not only a better way to God, but the best and only way in Jesus.
From the minute we arrived, a stomach bug began to make its rounds through our team, as well as a few others. The sickness made 5 of our group of 7 go through a night of continuous vomiting and heaving, while the rest of us ached for whichever person had it that night and offered help in whatever way they could. Along with that, the person I was closest with on our team and on this Race felt it was best to leave and head back to the States to continue his ministry. And lastly, being a follower of Jesus in a culture saturated with Islam takes a whole different kind of perseverence.
And what’s funny is these reasons were not even why I started to cry.
God, Yahweh, our Creator, Sustainer and Father chose out of love to pay the ultimate price himself for MY rebellion so that I might be with him for eternity. Because of this, it is not merely my duty, but significantly more so my joy to follow his commands and example. Choosing to bring light in a world of darkness. Choosing to love instead of hate. Choosing to speak life instead of death. Choosing to encourage and exhort instead of demean. Choosing to live humbly instead of pridefully. Choosing to heal instead of hurt. Choosing to give and serve instead of take and consume. Choosing to go ANY length or distance in order to see a lost soul’s spirit brought to life by the power and grace of Jesus.
Here’s the problem though: I sometimes live exactly the opposite way.
WHY?!?! WHO WOULD DO THAT?? AFTER EVERYTHING THE GOD OF THIS UNIVERSE WHO IS CLOSER THAN THE AIR I BREATHE HAS DONE FOR ME?!…
I wish I could answer those questions. I really do.
I cried that day in the living room of our apartment because the lost of this world deserve better from me. There needs to be ZERO end that I would not go for them. If I know that the person sitting next to me, whether in Casablanca, Morocco or in Tyler, Texas, might not know that their Father who literally knitted them together in their mother’s womb loves and died for them, it’s MY job to tell. Not the next person’s.
I cried that day because since October 1st I’ve listened to the muslim “call to prayer” five times a day, which then reminded me of the nearly 2 billion people on this planet that unknowingly follow a lie. My heart hurts for them.
I cried that day because there are countless people on this planet that will spend eternity separated from God… and you know what? Sometimes it’s my fault. I chose to be silent that one day at the coffee shop or at the workplace. I chose apathy. Lord, I plead and beg for your mercy and forgiveness.
Let us never be silent. May our hearts be forever burdened for the lost. And may we count every trial and temptation as joy, knowing that our faith is being tested and endurance will follow.
Let us never be silent.
Love all of you so much! I miss ALL of you back home. Like a lot. Hope you’re blessed and enjoying the cooler weather!!
-Bradley
