Saturday, July 13, 2013

Till it hurts...

God took me on a walk.
I wasn't prepared. I was in jeans and flip flops, not shorts and walking sneakers.
But He wanted to talk to me.
A rural Kansas dirt road became the road to Damascus.


When was the last time you gave until it hurt?
When was the last time you exercised past the point of exhaustion, because your body is a temple?
When was the last time you skipped a meal and went hungry, to sympathize with millions of other hungry people in the world?
When was the last time you put more than a tithe of 10% in the offering plate?
When was the last time you gave more than you thought you could justify financially?
When was the last time you talked with a stranger even though it felt awkward?
When was the last time you sacrificed your hobby time to spend hours helping improve someone else's life?
When was the last time you allowed God sized dreams to enter your mind?
When was the last time you sat with a friend or baby who needed you, into the wee hours of the night and hurt from lack of sleep?
When was the last time you visited, or even considered the discomforts of, a third-world country?
When was the last time you stepped so far out of your own little comfort zone that you were terrified?
When was the last time you truly sacrificed something to better someone else?

I'm pretty sure that just past the boundary of our life's little box, is where growth begins.
Just past that line of discomfort is a whole new comfort.
Just when it begins to hurt, comes a peace that passes all understanding.
When was the last time you were challenged?
When was the last time you were uncomfortable?
When was the last time you gave until it hurt?

2 comments:

Leah S. said...

When we scrimped and saved to get our three sons out of institutions in Serbia. When I saw my son wrapped up straight-jacket style in a crib. When I walked into the institution and smelled the smells of urine, feces and death as they assaulted my nose. As I played with the son who would soon be mine and felt all the bones poking through under his shirt, all the while trying not to breath in the smell of rot that came from his mouth. And all the while next to us a blind child, who was nothing but a skeleton with skin on it, laid in a beanbag chair a few feet away. As I undressed my newly adopted child for the first time and saw for myself the evidence of years of abuse and neglect. I could have chosen to say no. Let someone else save those kids. Not me. I don't have time. My life is comfortable. We were down to ONE child at home. A 14 year old. Now we have four. All with Down syndrome. And I have never before felt like I was in the right place...until now.

Karrie Shew Combs said...

this speaks to the core of a Christian heart. thank you for asking the hard questions and for making me think!