To encourage you to invite your friends to evangelistic events... if these 'Reasons' are often yours, then check yourself, and try not to let them interfere with your friend's salvation. I've definitely gone for each one numerous times, and am still working at avoiding them...
Showing posts with label Evangelism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Evangelism. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thought #45,623,501...
Just begun now reading 'Praying Successfully' by Charles Spurgeon, to get a taster of what a man who we've heard so much about, who lead at church at the ridiculous age of 18ish, had to say in text form.
But this is not my random thought, which has been completed via reading something he says.
I should say, having come back to this point in this post, if you are looking for deep insight, or something interesting to read, stop here. Go the the list of blogs on the left and read them instead. Do you ever have moments when something in your mind makes perfect sense to you, then when you share it, its significance evaporates? Well, the main worth this blog has is an example of this! Anyway...just some thoughts...
There are two ways we get to heaven: Number 1 (as Spurgeon writes) is to live a perfect life. Number 2 is to accept what Jesus has done for us on the cross and trust him for our righteousness, and so on.
I often put this to non-christians (well, the occasional times I get to explain the gospel to my <5 friends). There are two ways...etc etc. The first way would be fine, and we need look no further if it is the case -we have done nothing wrong so far in this life. But, who can say they are sinless so far? Even someone without any acceptance of the possibility of the gospel will hopefully admit they once did something wrong. So we are left with the Second option. [Continue gospel presentation. Questions recommended rather than a monologue].
However, my thought becomes yet more obscure. I find then this conversation often can tangent into a discussion of what a 'perfect' life looks like. And then I often talk about Jesus, and how its not rules and regulations, but our thoughts and motives -greed, selfishness, anger. This is correct I'm sure, but it doesn't seem to cut it with my fellow converse-ee.
But - and yes this post is all for this one simple thought - an alternative answer might be to point out that the difficulty we have in answering this question, or agreeing to it, just goes to show how incapable of living a perfect life we are. We don't even understand what a perfect life might look like -outside of what we see recorded in the gospels. Such is our state as rebellious human beings that we cannot even work out what a perfect life would consist of, let alone live it out. Even then, though I see Jesus' example, I still just don't get the living a perfect life thing. I have some idea, but its often not what I would guess -Jesus always responds differently to how I would.
Rather than giving a long answer, next time I might just simply point out that I don't know what a perfect looks like, I'm not completely sure -the whole concept if foreign to me. The difficulty we have in describing it shows that it is not in our nature to live a life comparable to the life lived by Jesus, making him acceptable to God.
I don't feel I've explained it well though... back to the conversation, one might point this out, suggesting it as roof we are naturally 'bad' people -rather than all good, and that some people just "turn out messed up for some reason I can't explain/science can explain"- is the fact we cannot even agree on what a perfect life might look like.
And if they do come up with a definition, then maybe ask if they think they fulfill it...I imagine they don't come up to their own standards either, let alone Gods. Then pray they'd see their need for the Cross of Christ.
Just a thought...
But this is not my random thought, which has been completed via reading something he says.
I should say, having come back to this point in this post, if you are looking for deep insight, or something interesting to read, stop here. Go the the list of blogs on the left and read them instead. Do you ever have moments when something in your mind makes perfect sense to you, then when you share it, its significance evaporates? Well, the main worth this blog has is an example of this! Anyway...just some thoughts...
There are two ways we get to heaven: Number 1 (as Spurgeon writes) is to live a perfect life. Number 2 is to accept what Jesus has done for us on the cross and trust him for our righteousness, and so on.
I often put this to non-christians (well, the occasional times I get to explain the gospel to my <5 friends). There are two ways...etc etc. The first way would be fine, and we need look no further if it is the case -we have done nothing wrong so far in this life. But, who can say they are sinless so far? Even someone without any acceptance of the possibility of the gospel will hopefully admit they once did something wrong. So we are left with the Second option. [Continue gospel presentation. Questions recommended rather than a monologue].
However, my thought becomes yet more obscure. I find then this conversation often can tangent into a discussion of what a 'perfect' life looks like. And then I often talk about Jesus, and how its not rules and regulations, but our thoughts and motives -greed, selfishness, anger. This is correct I'm sure, but it doesn't seem to cut it with my fellow converse-ee.
But - and yes this post is all for this one simple thought - an alternative answer might be to point out that the difficulty we have in answering this question, or agreeing to it, just goes to show how incapable of living a perfect life we are. We don't even understand what a perfect life might look like -outside of what we see recorded in the gospels. Such is our state as rebellious human beings that we cannot even work out what a perfect life would consist of, let alone live it out. Even then, though I see Jesus' example, I still just don't get the living a perfect life thing. I have some idea, but its often not what I would guess -Jesus always responds differently to how I would.
Rather than giving a long answer, next time I might just simply point out that I don't know what a perfect looks like, I'm not completely sure -the whole concept if foreign to me. The difficulty we have in describing it shows that it is not in our nature to live a life comparable to the life lived by Jesus, making him acceptable to God.
I don't feel I've explained it well though... back to the conversation, one might point this out, suggesting it as roof we are naturally 'bad' people -rather than all good, and that some people just "turn out messed up for some reason I can't explain/science can explain"- is the fact we cannot even agree on what a perfect life might look like.
And if they do come up with a definition, then maybe ask if they think they fulfill it...I imagine they don't come up to their own standards either, let alone Gods. Then pray they'd see their need for the Cross of Christ.
Just a thought...
Thursday, July 30, 2009
What hast thou done...?
This is something I read in Simon Guillebaud’s book ‘For What It’s Worth’...that a year or two ago awoke me to the seriousness of our task on earth –the task of being Christ’s ambassadors, proclaiming the message of reconciliation, the Gospel.
You can read a little more about her here or here.
I have her autobiography to read eventually. You can borrow it if you so wish. Drop me a line...
So, this is the vision she had, and wrote down in the following description, which is quite hard hitting, so be warned... :
The tom toms thumped on all night, and the darkness shuddered around me like a living, feeling thing. I could not go to sleep, so I lay awake and looked; and I saw, and it seemed like this:
I stood on a grassy sward [meadow], and at my feet a precipice broke sheer down into infinite space. I looked, but saw no bottom; only cloud shapes, black and furiously coiled, and great shadow-shrouded hollows, and unfathomable depths. I drew back, dizzy at the depth. Then I saw forms of people moving single file along the grass. They were making for the edge. There was a woman with a baby in her arms and another little child holding on to her dress. She was on the very verge. Then I saw that she was blind. She lifted her foot for the next step . . . it trod air. She was over, and the children over with her. Oh, the cry as they went over!
Then I saw more streams of people flowing from all quarters. All were blind, stone blind; all made straight for the precipice edge. There were shrieks, as they suddenly knew themselves falling, and a tossing up of helpless arms, catching, clutching at empty air. But some went over quietly, and fell without a sound.
Then I wondered, with a wonder that was simply agony, why no one stopped them at the edge. I could not. I was glued to the ground, and I could not call. Though I strained and tried, only a whisper would come.
Then I saw that along the edge there were sentries set at intervals. But the intervals were too great; there were wide, unguarded gaps between. And over these gaps the people fell in their blindness, quite unwarned; and the green grass seemed blood red to me, and the gulf yawned like the mouth of Hell.
Then I saw, like the pictures of peace, a group of people under some trees, their backs turned to the gulf. They were making daisy chains. Sometimes, when a piercing shriek cut the quiet air and reached them, it disturbed them and they thought it rather a vulgar noise. And if one of their members started up and wanted to go do something to help, then all the others would pull that one down. “Why should you get so excited about it? You must wait for a definite ‘call’ to go. You haven’t finished your daisy chains. It would be really selfish,” they said, “to leave us to finish the work alone.”
There was another group. It was made up of people whose great desire was to get some more sentries out; but they found very few wanted to go, and sometimes there were no sentries for miles and miles at the edge.
One girl stood alone in her place, waving the people back; but her mother and the other relatives called, and reminded her furlong was due; she must not break the ‘rules’. And, being tired and needed a change, had to go and rest awhile; but no one was sent to guard her gap; and over and over the people fell, like a waterfall of souls.
One a child caught a tuft of grass that grew on the very brink of the cliff; the child clung convulsively, and it called but nobody seemed to hear. And the little girl who longed to be back in her gap thought she heard the little cry, sprang up and wanted to go; at which her relatives reproved her, reminding her no one is necessary anywhere – the gap would be well taken care of, they knew. And they sang a hymn.
Then through the hymn came another sound like the pain of a million broken hearts wrung out in one full drop, one sob. And a horror of great darkness was upon me, for I knew what it was – the Cry of the Blood.
Then thundered a voice, the voice of the Lord. And he thundered, “What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother’s blood crieth out to me from the ground.”
The tom toms still beat heavily, the darkness still shivered and shuddered around me; I heard the yell of the devil-dancers and the weird wild shrieks of the demon-possessed just outside the gate.
Amy Carmichael
You can read a little more about her here or here.
I have her autobiography to read eventually. You can borrow it if you so wish. Drop me a line...
So, this is the vision she had, and wrote down in the following description, which is quite hard hitting, so be warned... :
The tom toms thumped on all night, and the darkness shuddered around me like a living, feeling thing. I could not go to sleep, so I lay awake and looked; and I saw, and it seemed like this:
I stood on a grassy sward [meadow], and at my feet a precipice broke sheer down into infinite space. I looked, but saw no bottom; only cloud shapes, black and furiously coiled, and great shadow-shrouded hollows, and unfathomable depths. I drew back, dizzy at the depth. Then I saw forms of people moving single file along the grass. They were making for the edge. There was a woman with a baby in her arms and another little child holding on to her dress. She was on the very verge. Then I saw that she was blind. She lifted her foot for the next step . . . it trod air. She was over, and the children over with her. Oh, the cry as they went over!
Then I saw more streams of people flowing from all quarters. All were blind, stone blind; all made straight for the precipice edge. There were shrieks, as they suddenly knew themselves falling, and a tossing up of helpless arms, catching, clutching at empty air. But some went over quietly, and fell without a sound.
Then I wondered, with a wonder that was simply agony, why no one stopped them at the edge. I could not. I was glued to the ground, and I could not call. Though I strained and tried, only a whisper would come.
Then I saw that along the edge there were sentries set at intervals. But the intervals were too great; there were wide, unguarded gaps between. And over these gaps the people fell in their blindness, quite unwarned; and the green grass seemed blood red to me, and the gulf yawned like the mouth of Hell.
Then I saw, like the pictures of peace, a group of people under some trees, their backs turned to the gulf. They were making daisy chains. Sometimes, when a piercing shriek cut the quiet air and reached them, it disturbed them and they thought it rather a vulgar noise. And if one of their members started up and wanted to go do something to help, then all the others would pull that one down. “Why should you get so excited about it? You must wait for a definite ‘call’ to go. You haven’t finished your daisy chains. It would be really selfish,” they said, “to leave us to finish the work alone.”
There was another group. It was made up of people whose great desire was to get some more sentries out; but they found very few wanted to go, and sometimes there were no sentries for miles and miles at the edge.
One girl stood alone in her place, waving the people back; but her mother and the other relatives called, and reminded her furlong was due; she must not break the ‘rules’. And, being tired and needed a change, had to go and rest awhile; but no one was sent to guard her gap; and over and over the people fell, like a waterfall of souls.
One a child caught a tuft of grass that grew on the very brink of the cliff; the child clung convulsively, and it called but nobody seemed to hear. And the little girl who longed to be back in her gap thought she heard the little cry, sprang up and wanted to go; at which her relatives reproved her, reminding her no one is necessary anywhere – the gap would be well taken care of, they knew. And they sang a hymn.
Then through the hymn came another sound like the pain of a million broken hearts wrung out in one full drop, one sob. And a horror of great darkness was upon me, for I knew what it was – the Cry of the Blood.
Then thundered a voice, the voice of the Lord. And he thundered, “What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother’s blood crieth out to me from the ground.”
The tom toms still beat heavily, the darkness still shivered and shuddered around me; I heard the yell of the devil-dancers and the weird wild shrieks of the demon-possessed just outside the gate.
Amy Carmichael
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