I Know You're Out There

My thoughts have been dwelling, quite often, on the lives of the persecuted and poverty stricken. In those countries, Christianity isn't just a feel-good way of life...it's life or death. Jesus isn't someone that they have to "make time for" or fit into their lives; Jesus is their lives.
They leave the world behind, with eyes pointed heavenward. They sing, they clap, they dance, because Jesus has made them glad. They are new creations and they act like it. They have so little, yet give so much. They have nothing and yet they possess everything.
Thinking on them does break my heart at times. I want to hold them, to talk with them...to fulfill at least some of their needs. Oh, but pity is not my only thought towards them. A certain envy for their focus is what comes to my mind. They are not to be looked down upon, but to be held as an example for Christians to see.
As I think on these precious individuals, I am left convicted and as a result disgusted with the amount of distractions that I entertain. All too easily I am drawn to the gold of this world, when I should be striving for the jewels of heaven. It is fools' gold that the world tempts me with. It appears promising for a time, but then I realize that it is nothing. Only the things of Jesus can truly satisfy me.

I wonder what they are doing, what they are thinking, feeling, seeing at this very moment. I know that they're out there, but what are they like? Surely they have dreams, but what do those aspirations look like? The distance prevents these questions from being answered. What if I were to gather my motivation, every ounce of adrenaline and just run? The tracks would be endless and even if I did reach the end, strong seas would prevent me from venturing any further. When I meet them in heaven I plan to hang onto their every word, to look into their glowing eyes and just listen, just ask them what it was like.
Truth be told I have suffered, in more ways than I care to express, but they have suffered physically. Do I even understand the meaning of true tears, real pain? I live a life of comfort and safety, they sleep on dusty streets, in danger of whatever might lurk in the darkness.
This brings me to another thought...I know of someone who has suffered both physical and emotional scars. There are nails on His hands, marks on His side. He bore the intense sins of all the world. As He hung there, in our shame, His heart was heavy with grief. I know that only He can understand the suffering that I have felt, or my brothers and sisters-in Christ across the globe. He can fathom it only because He has felt more of it.
Our chains were heavy, so heavy that only He could break them and now that He has, our response should resemble the focus, the joy, of the poverty stricken and persecuted. What prevents us from singing, loving and even dancing out of gratitude for the love of our savior? I want my eyes to be forever fixed on the things of Jesus. I do not even care to glance back at fools' gold, when I know of the true jewels waiting for me ahead. One day I will love Him perfectly, I will hold nothing back. Until that glorious time, I will continue to learn. I will fall face down in the filth of my own selfishness, but He will lift me up. He will wrap His arms around me and send me on my way, just a little bit stronger, with a little less filth. The process of sanctification will continue until He calls me home to where I belong. Oh how I long for it, but not enough.