nathaniel ogden kidd (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} bland_hyssop) wrote,@ 2007-01-21 00:04:00 |
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what is a christian
What is a Christian, they say. What is a Christian?
The Christian is a man for whom Jesus is more than just a religious figure.
He sees Jesus, not only in the liturgical service or the painted icon; not only in the praise songs or the cheap souvenirs, but around every corner, in every ditch; cleverly disguised in each passing heart. That man is a Christian.
He sees Jesus especially in the dirty places. The least, the lost, the littlest, the lowliest, the loneliest. He sees Jesus there, as clearly as in the Eucharist, as clearly as in prayer, as clearly as in the Gospels. That man is a Christian.
The Christian is a man whose way is foolish to the world. His trail is crooked and painful, filled with sacrifice, danger, and discomfort. And when you ask him why he walked that way, he will answer that he saw Jesus there, and he had to keep going. That man is a Christian.
The Christian is a man who dies wrecked, disfigured, and humiliated. Yet in death, he smiles still, for he watched his Jesus die the selfsame death. That man, that man, is a Christian.
…
I worry, sometimes, that I am not sacrificing enough for the Gospel. I live a good life. A very good life, in fact. My belly is full, my back is clothed, my spirit is satiated.
But there are moments that I look at Jesus, that bright, radiant figure who lightens the dark shadows of my heart and lifts the black clouds of earth, and I am so moved by his beauty and power that in that impulsive moment, I long to throw everything out the window that I might be unencumbered to go and follow.
The morning after, I wake up, take a comfortable shower, put on a comfortable shirt, eat a comfortable breakfast and go forth to continue living my comfortable life.
I wonder if I am missing something.
Maybe I need a good divestment strategy. A twelve step program for overcoming materialism. A good get poor quick scheme. Maybe I need more inspiration. If I believed enough, I could sacrifice everything. Or more education. If I was sure I would succeed, then I could move forward, no matter what the cost.
One morning I want to wake up poor and happy with nothing to my name but my Jesus.
Yet perhaps the deepest reality of Jesus’ call to poverty is the fundamental realization that all that I have, from my creation, to my redemption, to every material, relational, and spiritual possession I have is a gift from God, and that if God should take them all away tomorrow, I would not be all the worse off for it. For the greatest gift, is, of course, God himself. Not because he can give new gifts, but simply because he is God!
God certainly calls people to radical poverty. He calls martyrs and he calls missionaries. Oh that I should be honored to receive such a calling! If it ever comes, may my heart be supple and my ears unplugged.
In the meantime, wealth is to be emptied joyously on lavish generosity.
What is a Christian, they say. What is a Christian?
The Christian is a man for whom Jesus is more than just a religious figure.
He sees Jesus, not only in the liturgical service or the painted icon; not only in the praise songs or the cheap souvenirs, but around every corner, in every ditch; cleverly disguised in each passing heart. That man is a Christian.
He sees Jesus especially in the dirty places. The least, the lost, the littlest, the lowliest, the loneliest. He sees Jesus there, as clearly as in the Eucharist, as clearly as in prayer, as clearly as in the Gospels. That man is a Christian.
The Christian is a man whose way is foolish to the world. His trail is crooked and painful, filled with sacrifice, danger, and discomfort. And when you ask him why he walked that way, he will answer that he saw Jesus there, and he had to keep going. That man is a Christian.
The Christian is a man who dies wrecked, disfigured, and humiliated. Yet in death, he smiles still, for he watched his Jesus die the selfsame death. That man, that man, is a Christian.
…
I worry, sometimes, that I am not sacrificing enough for the Gospel. I live a good life. A very good life, in fact. My belly is full, my back is clothed, my spirit is satiated.
But there are moments that I look at Jesus, that bright, radiant figure who lightens the dark shadows of my heart and lifts the black clouds of earth, and I am so moved by his beauty and power that in that impulsive moment, I long to throw everything out the window that I might be unencumbered to go and follow.
The morning after, I wake up, take a comfortable shower, put on a comfortable shirt, eat a comfortable breakfast and go forth to continue living my comfortable life.
I wonder if I am missing something.
Maybe I need a good divestment strategy. A twelve step program for overcoming materialism. A good get poor quick scheme. Maybe I need more inspiration. If I believed enough, I could sacrifice everything. Or more education. If I was sure I would succeed, then I could move forward, no matter what the cost.
One morning I want to wake up poor and happy with nothing to my name but my Jesus.
Yet perhaps the deepest reality of Jesus’ call to poverty is the fundamental realization that all that I have, from my creation, to my redemption, to every material, relational, and spiritual possession I have is a gift from God, and that if God should take them all away tomorrow, I would not be all the worse off for it. For the greatest gift, is, of course, God himself. Not because he can give new gifts, but simply because he is God!
God certainly calls people to radical poverty. He calls martyrs and he calls missionaries. Oh that I should be honored to receive such a calling! If it ever comes, may my heart be supple and my ears unplugged.
In the meantime, wealth is to be emptied joyously on lavish generosity.
