Gone Crazy

Sometimes it feels like the world has gone crazy. It probably feels like that because, in fact, that's exactly what it's done. I'm not sure what I mean by that comment...just bear with me.

I've been thinking a lot about the "brethren throughout the world" that 1 Peter talks about. Yesterday during worship time we sang "Give Me Jesus", which is an utterly beautiful song...

In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise, give me Jesus

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus,
You can have all this world,
But give me Jesus

When I am alone
When I am alone
When I am alone, give me Jesus

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus,
You can have all this world,
But give me Jesus

When I come to die
When I come to die
When I come to die, give me Jesus

-Fernando Ortega

So, maybe it sounds repetitive just written down, but if you know the song, you can sing it and know what I mean. Anyhow, while we were singing I had my eyes closed and suddenly, like a digital slideshow, these pictures started coming into my mind of the believers in other countries being persecuted and killed because they love Jesus. In the morning, every morning...the fears and griefs of young widows, the possessions confiscated and homes destroyed, the long darks hours of prison cells, the tortures and beatings...but then there is Jesus. That is all they want. And that is what they get.

I'm just hoping for the courage to make that my prayer. It's not that I mean to be morbid...I guess it would be easy to take this that way. But it isn't morbid at all. The world is a dangerous place, (just yesterday we heard about the shootings in Colorado) and for so long I've thought that life's objective was to keep safe, happy and comfortable. But now I'm discovering that the safety is empty, and I find myself longing to say "You can have all this world, but give me Jesus."

A few days ago I read the Voice of the Martyrs magazine, which pictured a prayer meeting on the front cover. There were six people kneeling in a circle in the forest, holding their hands out, praying. And I thought, "I want to be part of that prayer meeting." And I keep longing for that kind of desperate fellowship and even danger...yet I'm such a weak and fragile child! I tremble at the thought of going to a nursing home to reach out...I battle every morning just to get out of bed. Just an overload of phone calls to make can cause me to crumple into tears. Is this the girl who wants to brave the wilds and risk hatred, gun threats, and tortures? Sounds crazy. Sounds a little niave. Sounds impossible!

Just in the little sufferings that I go through, I've tasted a bittersweet tang that left me thristy for more. It's a funny thing to say, because when the day is done I'd never ask to go through it again. But later, when things get "better", I start missing those days I spent running to Jesus at every turn, nights of crying myself to sleep knowing that I'm in His arms. I've started to understand how those believers have the joy they have, and I'm just praying for the courage to love and hang on and risk my life in his name, here or overseas.

On this website I think you can find some of the amazing Voice of the Martyrs stories that really spur me on in my faith...(when I can bring myself to read them!)

http://www.persecution.com/