Scandalous Love

This has been a long time coming.

 

Everytime I’d near the end of my patience or the point of screaming, it would allude me again. Now, I can see it.

What is “it”? The definition is much easier to describe than to nail down in a solitary word. So here’s a picture of “it”, the entity that has been haunting me and tagging alongside me with every place I go and conversation I have.

 

“IT”

 

“It” is a smothering, nameless idea that maybe there’s more to this following Jesus thing than 99% of people put into it, including me. This gnawing that eats me alive as I look into the stain glass world around me, realizing that more money and effort was put into the color of the church carpet than the alleviating of pain and heartache surrounding every side of the actual building. (Stepping on toes yet? Just wait…)

 

 

“It” is a nagging notion that there is more to the Jesus-kind of LIFE than I’ve experienced. He told us that in order to save our life, we must lose it, and when we lose our life, then we find it. This is not some elusive concept of which I learned in Asian Philosophy 309, this is, supposedly, the Gospel, straight from Christ. Shying away from representations and uppity clamor and viewing His statements as simple and straightforward, I realize I haven’t lost my life too much. “It” is a tireless whisper that maybe, just maybe, I’ve been doing things the wrong way.

 

“It” is a surging sensation to live deliberately, finding miracles in every day life, of letting go of this earthly kingdom for one so much higher it boggles comprehension. Of diving in to a love so completely earth-shattering, mind-blowing, and radical that my jaded glasses be broken in favor of all-consuming love. A love that does not discriminate any or one thing or situation, but loves indiscriminately as it wayward walks. A kind of love that follows in it’s wake capitalists and communists, princes and paupers, saints and sinners, lifeless and limbless, and sustains each and giving life-breath with every single love, love, love.

 

“It” is a slap-in-the-face that I have been a slothful, lustful, gluttonous, selfish, warmongering, resentful, hypocritical sell-out. I have sold Jesus, not for thirty pieces of silver, but for the margin between comfort and discomfort as I look into the eyes of a homeless man and pass him on the coldest night of 2008, offering not even a dollar, more importantly, a prayer for his well-being. I have invited the Jesus in me to be part of every scandal and lie I’ve committed and therefore represented him to be an instigative liar.

 

“It” is the realization that Jesus is scandalous, giving love to EVERYONE and a chance to be forgiven of ANYTHING. He breaks the laws of society, loving the girl who stole your boyfriend. He breaks the laws of government, extending forgiveness to the man who shot and raped your children. And he extends love and forgiveness to you, who are no better than these. He doesn’t discriminate because of any person you have been or are, he doesn’t reject for anything you’re doing or did. He simply calls us to follow and to douse this love and forgiveness on all in our path.

“It” is the realization I have not done this.

After years of curbing this hunger into tangible, physical ways which can be understood, I’m drawing dust from the Shannon well. I’m ready to tear down this well and receive the Living Water that Jesus offered the town whore. I’m tired of being fake and ineffective. I’m giving all I have to Jesus to use as He wills. And boy howdy… Who knew it would be like this.

I have, for years, been unable to tear myself away from those Feed the Children infomercials that come on late at night. They are uncomfortable, they make me feel insignificant, they make me feel useless.

But they make me feel like I want to make a difference.

My difference has, thusfar, been to sponsor WolrdVision children and to give to the Salvation Army at Christmastime, to pack a shoebox full of toys for Samaritan’s Purse and to utilize the Angel Tree at Walmart for Christmas.

At the end of this day, all of it is…

 

Money. Just money.

What if I gave everything? My comfort? Complacency? Apathy? What if I forsook everything to see God done in lives firsthand? What if I could live off of next-to-nothing, serving the poorest of the poor in the stench of feces and shadow of death?

 

 

What if, rather than giving up some spare change to a Santa with a bell, I gave up my own dinner so that another brother might have food? What if, rather than being fashionable, I gave up my clothes to warm the backs of the frozen? What if I looked into the eyes of a homeless man, and instead of being scared, I saw someone just as in need of Christ as I am? What if I saw his addictions as the same that plagued me before Christ, and his desperation as the same I have for Jesus?

 

 

What if I looked into they eyes of a prostitute and wanted to give her love? Not in the same disgusting ways others “love” her, but treasure and value her in such a way that she feels in her heart that her worth is not measured in dollars and hours, but to know that she is an invaluable, beautiful, pure, Child of God? What if I could be so honored as to give an embrace of safety to a sex-trafficked girl, the first one she’s ever had? What if I was the vessel of a love so deep that it could sear past the memories of thousands of men and lifetimes of abuse, beckoning this precious child to simply, “Come as you are”?

 

Ghandi once said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.”

In a world so big, so vast, and so evil and unfair, and with me, being just one person, could I really do it?

Could I ever, really, have the chance to be the change I want to see?

Ghandi also once said that, “I don’t reject your Christ. I love your Christ. It’s just that you Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

Am I so unlike my Christ?

If so, I can never be the change that I want to see in this dark world.

But I am ready to be. I am ready to represent Jesus in the only way that I can. Being bold, fearless, for the sake of Him. I am ready to give up all that I have to see that His work is done in my life.

And I’m ready to let you in on the way He has decided to do it.

Last month I was accepted to be a part of a movement, a year-long pilgrimage known as The World Race. During this year, I will leave behind everything I have ever known as comfort, fit my belongings into a backpack, and travel the globe to alleviate the suffering in any way that I can.

It’s not the Peace Corps. It’s not humanitarianism. It’s going to the lost, living in their midst, holding their babies, spending time with their children, praying with them, and bringing The Name of Jesus to places it hasn’t been heard before.

For the first time, I will have as many resources at my disposal as the people I’m serving. I won’t have tubs of cornmeal, I won’t have gallons of water, I won’t have pockets of money. I will live as they live, in the conditions they live, in the places they live. “They” will have faces, names, and stories. “They” will be as precious to me as family. “They” will be my family.

I want to change the world, but the world will never be changed by more money, more non-profits, more charities. I bet there are tens of thousands of non-profits, and though I admire, respect, and love them, they will never change the world.

I have a sneaky suspicion that this completely scandalous love that was given to me can change the world. And I have been given the opportunity to test my assumption.

Mother Teresa famously said, “If you can’t feed the world, then just feed one.”

I can’t feed the world. But maybe the kind of ritual-giving, evidenced in the ever-so-convenient monthly withdrawal option in my bank account to the non-profit of my choice isn’t feeding the world either. Maybe when my sacrificial giving meets convenience, they cancel each other out. Maybe sacrificial giving is when I walk into a hungry village, and can’t feed everyone and myself. Maybe sacrificial giving is the feeling of sacrificing dry eyes to tears as we realize there’s not enough. Maybe where we lack, God will provide.

Perhaps this world-changing love can’t be found in the abundance that has choked the life out of us, but rather, in the lacking environment where miracles flourish. Where, after all the hunger, hurt, and hell fades, love, shockingly, IS enough.

I don’t want to think I’m right. I want to know I am. I want to know that when resources are finished, food depleted, safety compromised, demons encountered, and all the guts are on the table, that LOVE IS ENOUGH.

Because, according to 1st John 4:16, Love IS enough.

“And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. GOD IS LOVE. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God lives in him.”

When it all runs out, God is love. Love is enough, because the only thing that can be enough is God.

Maybe a year of this is following “it”.

Maybe when I get back, I’ll know how to tell you what “it” is without a wordy note.