Wednesday nights.
My team goes out with Kawan, the homeless shelter we’re working with, to roam the streets of Penang in search of the homeless and prostitutes. We share the love of Jesus, a few stories, a testimony, a laugh…. We watch our words, Malaysia is a closed country, meaning it is illegal to share the gospel with non-believers.
Tonight a light rain meant many were off the streets, or had already nestled into a quiet place on the street to sleep for the night. In search of those few still out, we prayed for the town as we walked- for drug addictions… for sex trafficking… for the strongholds idols and other religions have in this country.
My group stopped at a temple. It was covered in gorgeous carved images. Looking at its big double doors, my mind immediately went to a scene from one of my favorite movies, The Patriot. During the American Revolution, a colonel of the British army gathers the American townspeople into a church, then orders his army to lock the doors and burn the church down; panic and screaming ensue, and all those inside die.
My heart turned heavy. Up until this point in the Race, the weight of what we are trying to do never fully hit. We’re trying to bring Kingdom, to love as Jesus would love, maybe lead someone to Christ. But as I stared at this temple, all I could imagine was all the people inside, all the people who ever came to worship there, being locked inside and burning in flames.
As Christians, if we truly believe what the Bible says, hell is their fate. And not just their worldly fate but their eternal fate.
Yes, this seems like a drastic outlook, but it’s realistic.
Tonight, being reminded of the fate of non-believers, I was encouraged to live and serve a little differently. I was reminded, in a different way, that the affects we have on people can carry an eternal weight. What we do matters.
This trip has not and will not be focused on me helping people to avoid hell, but rather to lead them to relationship with Christ. But tonight, I was scared for those I have met that don’t believe. And no matter how big my smile, how great my English lesson, or how tight my hug is, it’s not enough to bring eternal salvation. I may bring someone one step closer to believing, but there’s still work to be done.
