Do you ever have moments in life where the world suddenly
slows down and you catch a glimpse, however small, of something that makes you pause to wonder? It’s like that moment
when you’re about to get on a big roller coaster, when you suddenly see the
rust on the poles holding the structure up, and the clack! clack! clack! becomes a louder sound in your head as you
consider anew the stability of the machine you’re about to entrust your safety
to.
I went to the fair last summer and enjoyed a day keeping up
with friends amidst the pungent smells of deep fried foods, sugary sweet
refreshments, bumping pushing crowds, and colorful blinking lights that accompany
it. After eating more greasy food than we should have, as that’s just what you
do at a fair, we wandered through the booths looking at what people had to
sell. As we were purchasing something from one particular lady, she happened to
mention as she was running our card that a previous customer had tried to put a
hex on her.
That was my moment, my pause that made me stop and wonder. What if I stepped out and told her what I knew of the One who could protect her from those attacks? What if I told her about the blood that was shed to keep any thing of that nature at bay? The incident obviously bothered her, because she called a friend who was supposed to be able to recognize the presence of those things, the friend had confirmed it and gave her advice that I wouldn't recommend to get rid of it.
She had a steady stream of customers to help and the friends my husband and I had come with had already wandered away to wait for us, so we walked on to join them. But something inside my spirit was stirred and disappointed that I didn’t go back to talk to her. People so desperately need Jesus, they need the truth to set them free in their lives. Not just the Jesus that the people outside the fair held signs about and handed out tracts disguised like million dollar bills to explain. They need the Jesus who breaks the chains of the captives and meets them in the often-overwhelming realities of their lives. I am not at all meaning to speak negatively about the people handing out tracts; I hope others were blessed by it. But unless the tract has a way of letting them see a glimpse of the tangible closeness of the King and His ability to breath new life into their circumstances, it’s just going to be another nice story.
I got on the wooden rollercoaster despite my
head’s reprimanding warnings. I jumped aboard the ride and had a blast as it
swerved around the rickety track. But I missed the all aboard call to the ride
that could have ended in a saved life. Assessing the risks, I stepped back. I told myself I was inadequate, but forgot that it wasn’t my competency
that mattered. Somehow I could put my trust in a ride enough to raise my arms
in the air, letting go because I believed that the safety bar would keep me in
place, but not that the God who gave everything for me would give me the words
to speak.
Sharing the love and power of Jesus Christ with people like
the lady at the fair? That’s where the core of evangelism should be. The gospel
is so much more than just a good story. It’s an encounter where desperation
meets divinity and God’s radical love begins the process of changing
individuals from glory to glory.
I pray that the lady we saw will soon have an encounter in
the Father’s embrace, and I thank God for the continuance of His grace.
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