In a world where everyone has an opinion we all tend to add to the noise. My hope is that when I write as well as when I sing it never leaves the hearer the same as before the head or read it. Hopefully it's for the better, but there's no guarantee of that.
A thought that came to mind recently amid all the anxiety and fear being spread around these days is that I don't think every one is wrong about everything. I do think that what we are seeing is a world full of people devoid of hope screaming out at the top of their lungs,
"I'm hurting! Can anyone else feel my hurt?"
We see this in facebook posts, blogs, tweets, snaps and grams. It even shows up on the evening news. The 5 minutes of fame is now about who has been cut the deepest.
And it breaks my heart.
To see the brokenness of the world on display each and everyday. And yet my initial reaction is typically wrong. I want to fix it. I want to make it alright. There's got to be something I can do, money I can give, time i can donate, resources I can lend that would make all the bad in the world wash into the ever after.
But I can't. I was never designed to do that. It's not my job. What my job is consists of running.
Running to, from and with.
Running to the source of all Hope for my own needs as a broken human.
Running from the snares that so easily entangle me in my own selfish pride and focus.
Running with others who need a shoulder to lean on just as badly as I do.
When a fire breaks out in a building everyone runs. Right? Except for the few selfless men and women that know how dangerous the fire is and have dedicated their lives to go right into the flames with the chance of knowing they have the opportunity to save a few in their weakest and most helpless position.
Do I go into the flames? Do I worry that I may burn up myself? What if my life is just used as an example of selfless love that failed?
On the contrary. Going into the flames for the sake of giving others hope is not a success based on ones return, but on the basis of the willingness to go at all.
See my pride wants me to be the hero. The one who heroically marches forth from the flames in slow-motion carrying a frightened child holding her stuffed animal unicorn as the house falls down behind us. But that is not me. I am the child. Christ is the Hero.
He did not call me to save. He called me to serve.
Rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn - Romans 12:14
I'm called to go and cry with those who are asking if anyone can feel my hurt. I'm not called to fix their brokenness. When I become the hero, i rob the world of their true Hero. So as the world screams for someone to cry with, my prayers is that I will raise my hand and say, "I will"
When they are looking for someone to dance with that I say "I will" So when the flames engulf our lives I can point and say, here is the Hero, the Rescuer, the one that can give you hope that will never die, that lasts forever. I can cry with you. I can laugh with you, but I cannot save you. Only He who saved me also can do that. Christ is the Rescuer.