Last night I went with a friend to a "church-plant" about an hour away from where I live. I hadn't spent much time with this friend lately, and he asked how I'd been. He said he knew that I'd been "in the desert" for a while, and was I still there?
I said, "I guess maybe I am. But it's okay. There's something good about being here. In the desert you learn to carry only what will save you. Everything else is indulgence. And you learn to recognize the real oasis from the glimmering mirage. It has been good to walk in the desert for a time. I'm pretty sure there's more to learn here."
Then we came to the little start-up church where an old friend of ours is pastor. His message this time was all about commitment. God is looking for people with commitment, he said. He told the story of Gideon, which is a story, he said, about commitment. Then he said, I'm looking for people who will be committed to this church. Committed to prayer. Committed to serving. He asked people to make a commitment. He passed out "commitment cards." We were to check off the things we would commit ourselves to, then mail the card back.
So we came home, my friend and I, each of us having dutifully tucked our commitment cards into our Bibles. Me, I will commit to praying for this newborn church, and this novice pastor. I will pray that his little congregation will be a real oasis in the desert. A place of refreshing, where the Gospel is vividly central to every message.
The Gospel. The good news. That for the lack of which people are going to their death. That from which the church, it seems, has wandered far.
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