The Hole in my Gospel

I am reading this book, and it is altering the strands that make up the fabric of my world. It is churning my insides and making me stay awake long after my husbands soft, exhausted snores fill the room.

There are so many holes in my gospel. So many things in the Bible that I simply ignore. Its not that I sit here and deny its truth, oh no, Satan is much trickier than that. In the ease and comfort of my life, I simply do not dwell on certain things. I emotionally distance myself form my responsibility to the poor broken and outcast. I emotionally distance myself from past experience with poverty in order that I may not have to deal with their pain.

The first time I think that the true injustices of society really hit me, really brought me to my knees, was during a trip to Argentina. Richie and I spent about eight weeks working with a group of kids in a very, very poor neighborhood. Think slums. These kids hardly had enough clothes to keep them warm, it was the dead of winter, and really the only meal they were guaranteed each day was at a local ladies house who opened up her garage and fed them hot cereal.

It was heartbreakingly sad, and so we blogged about it, and people sent money. The last week before we left for the States, we headed into the bad part of town one last time, excited to give a cash gift to help out this local community that had wormed its way into our hearts. When we walked in, we were confronted with grim expressions and found out gut wrenching news.The night before, a baby had frozen to death because the family didn’t have enough blankets. She was the baby sister of one of the kids we played soccer with just the other day. Here we were with the money to buy a thousand blankets, and we were a day too late. I wanted to run away and hide and never try and help someone again. That pain was too severe. Too risky.

But, I am learning, that is not the Gospel. The Gospel looks and that situation, and instead of running away, it runs into it full force, arms wide open.

There is nothing about Matthew 25:31-46 that is easy for me to swallow, but I think it is pretty simple to understand. The more I allow God to grip my soul and to see the world through His eyes, the more I cannot help but be sure of is this fact: The Gospel is action and the Gospel is service. It scares me how often and quickly I miss the point. How quickly I turn my focus on poor old me, and dwell on all my insecurities, compare myself to all these other people and feel bad about myself.

I am a member of a royal priesthood. I have the power of Christ and the direction of the Holy Spirit. Its time for me to live like I actually believe it. And this doesn’t have to be in another country. It can be tomorrow, at lunch, during work, after class. What corners of my world are thirsting for the Gospel to be exemplified?


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