Howard County Christians

Good Friday in America

Everybody scattered. Everybody ran when they arrested him. What had they been thinking? Why had they wasted three years of their lives following this man who obviously, based on the day's events, was just a man. They were frightened, disillusioned, and they felt like fools.

Only John, his best friend, attended the execution. The rest were in hiding, wondering if they would be next. They had been at their best when they were with this man, and they had tried to do everything right... And this was their reward?

They were depressed and all they could see was failure and death... They certainly didn't see Sunday coming.

Today there are so many of us in this country who try to do the right thing. We give at least 10% of our income to the Church, missions, and charities in the name of the man mentioned above. We sacrifice, serve, and work to make our communities, our country, and our world the best they can be. We pray for guidance and we pray for good things. We elect a leader who prays. And what do we get?

We get depressed. The world is a mess. Everywhere we look there are seemingly insurmountable problems. The faith of our grandparents which this country once celebrated is now suspect and rejected by so many. Evil surrounds and infects us. Where is our Sugar Abba?

Job, Joni Eareckson Tada, and the rest of us were not placed on this earth to have perfect, painless lives. That is an American aberration... A rich man's folly. We were placed here to glorify God. And whether our future is bright or filled with persecution and pain, we will fulfill His purpose for our lives... It may not be what we want, but it will be glorious.

We are the Bride of Christ. And our depression is directly proportional to the extent to which we've been unfaithful and have wed ourselves to this world. Our gloom is a measure of our distraction with possessions and dreams that are ours, not His. We neglect our joy and invite sadness by habitually looking back at a burning Sodom instead of fixing our eyes on the real world, the perfect world that is our inheritance.

Sunday is coming.

Be still my soul,
The wind and waves still know His voice,
Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

posted by Malott @ 4:05 AM