Serving In A Saved World

Witnessing.
Evangelism.

Sharing your faith.

We in the church call the spreading of the Gospel many things. We take classes on it, write books, theorize about the perfect methods, and preach about it's importance. Having grown up in the church, gone to Christian school, and been involved heavily in youth group, I know a lot more than it feels like I need when it comes to sharing my faith. Because I don't have anywhere to put it into action. Sure, sure, I could preach on street corners or hand out tracts in a mall, but that's not what I mean. I know plenty about how to share God with my friends and family through my words, actions, and morals, but no family or friends to share Him with.

When my youth pastor challenged us to pray continously for an unsaved friend, I drew a blank for the longest time. Finally, I scribbled down a name on my card. The name was a guy I only sort of know. He dated a friend of mine, not even a close friend, for a few months a year or two ago, and added me on Facebook out of the blue. His posts and status updates weigh on my heart, despite the fact I have absolutely no connection to this guy. So I took the challenge, and I've been praying for him daily, but the next part of the challenge is to be a good friend to them. We aren't even friends. I haven't spoken to him since he broke up with my friend, unless you count a chance meeting in Wal-Mart and a pleasant hello. How do I be a friend to someone I don't even know? The puzzle continues, because the next part of the challenge is just to ask "Do you ever think about God?" I could ask a friend that. I could ask a family member that. But this guy? I don't know how to even breach the topic. So now what.

Church has prepared me to live in an unsaved world, but how do I minister to a saved one?

Snow Days

I'm going to talk about snow days.
Think back to the first time you remember school cancelling for snow. You were probably in elementary school, and the news was just about the best thing you could imagine. Your mom bundled up you and whatever assorted siblings you have and sent you out in the elements to play. You built snow forts and snow men, made snow balls and snow angels, got snow in your clothes and turned icicles into deadly weapons. And when you were done, Mom brought you all in, got you out of dripping clothes, and made hot chocolate to thaw your red and stinging faces.
It's a wonderful memory, a greeting card sweet piece of childhood freedom. But what are snow days now?
You sleep in late, then crawl out of bed to lounge on the couch watching tv or a movie, eating junk food. Or maybe you call up friends and spend the day out, because despite the fact the roads are too bad for school, nothing is too treacherous to keep teenagers from having a good time. After the first few snow days of the year, everyone's Facebook pages are littered with complaints.
"Come on, not another snow day!"
"They're taking away our summer!"
"It's not even that bad out..."
"This is getting out of hand..."
Somewhere along the line, snow days have turned from wonderful, magical days of carefree fun into irritating days we don't quite know how to fill. When did that happen?
Thanks for listening
M (//_^)

Sitting

My mom pointed out to me the other day that I often sit in unusual places.

It's true. When people come to visit I normally choose to sit perched on the back or arm of the sofa like a gargoyle instead of on the seat like everyone else. I climb on the counters and sit Indian style while Mom makes dinner. I lean back on my heels and balance my wieght on my toes when I go to get on the computer and stay that way until my feet go numb. In our old house I would pry open the window and squeeze myself into the narrow ledge to watch the trees and flowers in the wind.
When Mom pointed out this weird little habit, I just kind of laughed it off, but it became one of those little nagging thoughts that just wouldn't go away. Why did I do that? Most things have an explanation, and I think I found mine.

I miss being a kid. Not necessarily a little kid. I have no desire to go back through potty training and preschool. But just a kid. I could be a little weird and silly and say stupid things and do something just because I felt like it, and it didn't really matter. I had a wild imagination and an imaginary friend. I lived without thinking. I read books without analyzing their literary value. I heard music without pulling apart the chords, dynamics, and lyrics. I trusted that God and my parents would make everything in my life perfect. I was happy. Not gloriously happy or overly joyful. I was simply, happy. Happy because my life was easy and complete.

Now I'm 16. My life is great. I understand not every part of my life has to be perfect for me to be happy. I am aware that I have everything I need. I have fantastic parents, wonderful siblings, good friends, a great 'second family', and above all, an indescribable God who is doing unimaginable things in my life at the moment. But even with all of that, being aware of how great things are, makes me scared that they won't always be that way. I'm scared that I'll leave for college and I'll have chosen the wrong path. I'm scared that my friends will drift away. I'm scared that I'll leave and both my real siblings and my youth group brothers and sisters will grow up without me, that they won't need me anymore. I'm scared that deciding what I want and feeling that God has it planned for me will lead me dangerously astray.

I'm just scared.

And so I sit. Because it reminds me of being younger and uncomplicated and ready for life. Because it almost feels like I can be a kid again, for a minute. Because for that minute, I'm not quite as scared.

Thanks for listening.