Christian Living

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Of all the ways that God communicates with His creation, He says the most to me through song. Tonight, here in this kitchen, listening to music as I cooked supper for my little family, God broke through. In a song, He came, confronting in me the bitterness that I have invited into my life over the past couple of months. With a simple and devastating question He pierced my heart and revealed to me the darkness that has infected it.

For the past month, I have not been attending my church. Instead, I have been visiting other churches looking for another place that would better suit my needs. My church, though the largest in the area, the lacks discipleship and outreach that I desperately hunger for. I have tried, many times, to get involved with what does exist at the church and I have failed over and over again. I feel rejected and separated by the body of Christ. At my church I am a pariah, labeled as a troublemaker, a pest, a malcontent. I am frustrated, lost, and starving spiritually.

So, here I am. Cooking and sulking and thinking about how I’ve been wronged by a church that doesn’t care enough. Then, He interrupts me with a song.

“There are many prodigal sons.
On our city streets they run,
Searching for shelter.
There are homes broken down.
People’s hopes have fallen to the ground,
From failures

This is an emergency!

There are tears from the saints
For the lost and unsaved.
We’re crying for them come back home.
We’re crying for them come back home.
And all your children will stretch out their hands,
And pick up the crippled man.
Father, we will lead them home.
Father, we will lead them home.

There are schools full of hatred
Even churches have forsaken
Love and mercy
May we see this generation
In it’s state of desperation
For Your glory

This is an emergency!

Sinner, reach out your hands!
Children in Christ you stand!
Sinner, reach out your hands!
Children in Christ you stand!

And all Your children will stretch out their hands
And pick up the crippled man
Father, we will lead them home
Father, we will lead them home” –by Leeland, “Tears of the Saints”

As the words painted images in my head, God pierced my heart with a single silent question that still resonates in my soul. “Aaron, when was the last time you wept for the lost?” I couldn’t remember. My heart instantly broke as I thought of Jesus. My Lord wept and prayed and died a horrific death on a tree for those who didn’t know or love Him. Now, as one of the lost who has been redeemed by His blood, I am so preoccupied by how others are failing me that I have no time to share this wonderful gift with other sinners like myself. What happened to the passion that once burned in my heart for the lost and unsaved? Ashamed, I hung my head and said, “I’m sorry Lord, please forgive me.”

How did this happen? How could I not have seen? I remember though. It wasn’t that long ago. When the thought of those separated from God, those we call the “lost”, unsaved, or unchurched, weighed heavy on my heart. I remember praying and weeping and crying out for strength and courage to face the darkness that surrounds them. I remember the fight, the battlefield, and the wounds I incurred. When did I turn and walk off the field of battle? When did I become so focused on myself, as to forget that there is a world out there floundering in depravity and sinking into oblivion? Prisoners bound in sin, held captive by an enemy I know all too well. They are in desperate need of a Savior, for someone powerful enough to break their chains of bondage, and it is up to us, His servants, to reach for them. To do this we must love them with abandon. We must be willing to lay down our lives for them as Christ did. Where is the passion? The Siblatha?

Christian, when was the last time you prayed so passionately, so fervently and intensely for the lost that you wept?

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