What do you see?

Good Monday morning, my friends.

On Friday I received this note from my sister, Beth:

Hey guys,

I felt I had to share this.  It is from the facebook note of a young friend of mine who is in his early twenties with experiences and insights beyond his years.  He writes the most awesome poetry and "devotionals" and this one is no exception.  Hope it lifts you like it did me.

love,

Beth

fight

i live on euston street.

its close to downtown, and a far more realistic Charlottetown than i have ever seen before, living in the country. it isn't idyllic, or slow paced, or something out of an Anne of Green Gables book.

 

not euston. it is as contemporary as you get, the most contemporary sins and global struggles exist in the microcosm of this small street.

 

across the road a young woman lives with three small children, while different men visit occasionally. a few times i have caught a glimpse of her face through the haze of cigarrette smoke that floats from her open window, and each time, the dark cirles under her jaded eyes are visible from across the street. in another world, she's only in her early twenties.

in a nearby building, a pleasant, middle-aged guy lives unassumingly. he has a part time day job, but makes most of his money selling drugs. not just marijuana and high school experimentals, but hardcore opiads that bring crackheads to the door in the agonising search for a fulfilment. instead, they exchange hope and life to leave with a few lines of white powder. the fights never end well.

tonight, i arrived home late from work. it was still only midnight; the majority of the city's youth only midway through revelry and carrousing. but a small group of kids caught my eye across the street. i use the term on purpose, their language and hoodies betraying them for junior high attendees. what broke me was the sight of a girl, not a day over fifteen, staggering and jeering away from the group. her words would have brought pause to a hardened criminal, and from her intoxicated young lips they seemed all the more wrong. in a moment of clarity, i saw her frightened, broken self, cowering beneath the overwhelming authority of her god. and his name is not Jesus.

as my key lay dormant in the lock, i saw a young guy seize his opportunity, inviting her to his place and offering a refuge for the night. through her stupor, she could not recognise the treachery, and stumbled off under his arm as his young friends wished him luck.

 

i wanted to hurt them.

the crack dealer, the father who left his family to rot, the person who talked that girl into her first drink, the evil minded friends, the boy who didn't know any better. but where does it end? you can't punch a society in the face for letting this happen, or even for molding circumstances.

 

our battle is not against people. but against the spirits they allow to control them. (paraphrased Eph 6:12)

 

turn the other cheek. i understand. and in the face of persecution to himself, Jesus endured far more than we will ever understand. but when He saw injustice to His children, when mankind's self-righteousness was foolish enough to stray across His path, he tore it up. He flipped tables, disobeyed laws, directly challenged authority, began a spiritual revolution, convicted a generation, and denounced the god of their world. He was the scariest man ever to walk the earth, because He knew the power He had, and He used it freely when circumstance warranted it. thats the Jesus who's name i pray with.

 

so we have the righteous anger, the weapons, the authority, and a promise of victory. not only that, but we have a promise that it won't be a push over. it will be gritty, and test your very foundation. when you threaten to undo satan's work, know that he will use thousands of years of experience dealing with human nature to try to unravel you.

 

but our side already won. so everything he does is in vain. and that simple fact, even in the darkness of all his evil works, causes my fist to unclench, and a grin spreads across my face. i will fight.

I honestly do not know whether to envy this young man or feel sorry for him.  He sees this world with a clarity that borders on frightening to me.  This reminds me of an anecdote about 19th century American evangelist D.L. Moody.  While speaking in London, Moody was approached by a British friend. He wanted to know the secret of Moody's success in bringing others to Christ. Moody invited the man to look out the window and asked him, "What do you see?" The man reported that he saw crowded streets below. Moody requested that he look again. This time the man mentioned that he saw people—men, women, and children. Moody insisted that he look a third time. The man became frustrated that he was not seeing what the great evangelist wanted him to see. Moody came to the window with tears in his eyes and said, "I see people going to hell, lost without Jesus Christ."

We need to see people the way the young author above does; the way Moody did - as God sees them.  To quote another of my sisters, Linda, "our friends and family have been stolen from the Kingdom - and they need to be rescued". 

Look around you right now.  What do YOU see?

Grace and peace be yours in abundance,

Bruce

ps. - Welcome back to the list, Martie!

Lord, you were a shining light to the generation of people who lived two thousand years ago. 

They flocked to you because you loved them enough to be with them and to show them the true way to the Father. 

You have commissioned us to shine with that same love and message, yet we have not.

Even in light of the fact that you have given so much to us and have enriched our lives in every way, we have neglected to give proper attention to the function that was highest on your list, "to seek and to save the lost". 

We confess, Lord, that we have been too busy with life. 

We have loved our lives in this world to the exclusion of the task for which you keep us in the world. 

Our concern has not been great enough. 

Our love has not been hot enough. 

Our vision of eternity has not been clear enough. 

We have not believed, we have been cowards, we have turned away busying ourselves with temporal pursuits while our neighbors pass, one by one, into a living and dying hell. 

We haven't cared enough to intentionally love and pray for them.

Lord, we confess what we are, jars of clay. 

But you are the potter. We ask that you remold our hearts after your own heart. 

Give us a love that will lead the way, a passion hot as fire, and a faith that no disappointment will tire. 

Give us love for the lost and a life of power that will convince them of eternity and the claims of Jesus Christ. 

In Jesus' name. Amen.

(http://www.intercessorsarise.org/Intercessors_Arise/Prayer_for_the_Lost.html)

Bruce MacPherson  macpherson@celtic.ca / Blog: The Celtic Christian / Home: 613.489.4174 Cell: 613.720.0821 You are receiving this email because you have requested it or I felt you would be interested in this material. If you would like to be removed from this email list, please do not hesitate to contact me at the above email address.  Likewise, if you know of someone else who you believe would appreciate receiving these messages, please let me know.