Do you know what worries me?
What worries me is that I might not be using the myriad gifts that God has given me as well as I ought to use them.
I worry that my words weren’t the right words, so that lost friend I was *trying* to reach was instead pushed farther away from the Kingdom.
I worry that I’m not representing God properly.
See, I’m rich. Oh, I’m not talking about pocketbooks, though I think anyone with a roof over their head and hot meals on the table needs some self-examination if they don’t see their own financial blessings. But I’m rich in the raw materials of life.
D’you know.. my parents are still married? To each other! And my grandparents stayed married until death did them part! Not a one of my aunts and uncles has ever been divorced, nor any of my cousins. (I know, it’s getting scary). I personally am married to my high-school sweetheart, and we’ll be celebrating 20 years next month. Oh, and his parents were married until death parted them, too.
Let’s talk the riches of faith… I have a Greek/English NT on my bookshelf that belonged to my grandmother. One of my uncles is noted for his gift of personal evangelism, and his wife is basically the nicest person on the planet, not to mention a prayer warrior beyond compare. The other side of my family isn’t as intense, but past the time when my father’s father could read much of anything else, he had a well-thumbed Bible by his side. I spent my childhood in the church, worked through AWANA (all that memorization!)… and somehow, every time my church went through a pastor transition, I was somewhere else. You want to talk about protection? Provision? Provision! I found my current church at the gym – one of the elders’ wives used to work out next to me every morning.
And me? Oh, I’ve got my bumps and bruises that life’s brought to me, but hey – one of my gifts is counsel. They ain’t nothin’. I’ve heard stories. You know, it took me decades to stop feeling survivor guilt. Why am *I* so special, that I shouldn’t have my fair share of horror? I guess maybe so other folks know it’s possible… someone told me that once, that until she met me, she thought every family treated their kids the way her people treated her.
I have *no* excuses. Absolutely none. And I wonder, and wonder… am I doing enough? Am I a good enough witness? What am I doing with all this wealth?
So, yes. It matters to me. It matters to me that not a day goes by that I don’t offer encouragement to *someone*, that I don’t give a compliment, that I don’t try to give a smile, that I don’t stand up and say, “I am a Christian!” when people try to dis my Lord.
I don’t think I am doing enough, honestly. But I know that if I don’t wake up every morning and offer my day to the Lord, I’m never going to have the slightest chance to hit that mark.
That’s pretty much my life’s mission, to be a blessing. ‘Cause I love y’all, and because I want to show the world how wonderful Jesus is. Isn’t that the point? I’ve already got so much, I wish I could share more of the most important stuff.
What’s your mission?