A few weeks ago we had a guest speaker at our church. He spoke passionately about the persecuted church worldwide, how believers are being added in droves in those places where there is great darkness and sadness. He related a story of how one Chinese pastor prayed, “Lord, thank you for Communism.” The listeners were aghast until he explained, “Where Communism flourishes hope dies. It has replaces all religion and gods and makes man god. And when man finds that he is not enough, what is left? The gospel of Jesus provides the only hope.”
In America we are so incredibly blessed, beyond what we deserve at this point, that we have replaced God with materialism. We don’t need anything, and therefore we don’t need God.
Job described a similar situation.
The truth is that the wicked live to a good old age. They grow old and wealthy. They live to see their children grow to maturity, and they enjoy their grandchildren. Their homes are safe from every fear, and God does not punish them. Their bulls never fail to breed. Their cows bear calves without miscarriage. Their children skip about like lambs in a flock of sheep. They sing with tambourine and harp. They make merry to the sound of the flute. They spend their days in prosperity; then they go down to the grave in peace. All this, even though they say to God, ‘Go away. We want no part of you and your ways. Who is the Almighty, and why should we obey him? What good will it do us if we pray?’ – Job 21:7-15
Just like the rich man in Job’s example, in our post-modern American culture we are often met with the same response when sharing the light of Christ.
‘Go away. We want no part of you and your ways. Who is the Almighty, and why should we obey him? What good will it do us if we pray?’
Sadly, these folks will find out that they did need a savior in the end. But then it will be too late to obey him.
Father, may I not grow weary in showing others your way. Please help me to see with your eyes so that I never give up sharing the hope of Christ. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
I need Him. Jan