I Would Rather....

I just picked up a copy of David Platt's new book Radical Together.  A story that Platt shared in his book hit hard as I was reading.  He spoke of a city in a Muslim nation in which lies a tribe of nearly one hundred percent evangelical believers.  Unfortunately they have turned themselves inward and are not sharing the gospel with neighboring tribes.  Truth be told, that if they were to share their faith they could be imprisoned, or worse, put to death.  One of the things this tribes enjoys is the freedom to eat pork.  All the devout Muslims in surrounding tribes see this as unclean and are turned off by those who partake in it.  One Christian tribe member said in response to the proposition of giving up pork for the sake of the Gospel, "I would rather see a Muslim go to hell than give up pork."  Now while my first reaction was to shake my head in disapproval I was quickly reminded of my own "I would rathers...."

I would rather sit in my comfortable chair in my comfortable house watching my comfortable TV than step outside and share HIS love with the lost all around me.

I would rather spend $3.96 on flavored coffee at my local coffee house than give it to the impoverished.

I would rather keep me eyes looking straight in front of me at the stoplight than roll down my window and offer a little hope to the broken.

I would rather pat someone on the back for answering the call to take care of the orphans and the widows than to open my own home and do it myself.

I would rather keep my relationships at work less awkward than to ask someone to come to church with me.

I would rather give nervous laughter than to speak up when a friend is talking about what they did the night before.

Woe to me.

"Most High God, may my 'I would rathers' become 'I will nots'.  May your will shine through my dense selfish desires.  God, let it be."

In the end.

May the calluses on my hands, my feet,
May the holes in my worn out shoes,
May the lamp light on, late at night,
Show of my devotion to you.

May the bare cupboard of my home,
May the worship that is due,
May my empty wallet all declare,
My passionate love for you.

When this life is almost over,
When my bones are brittle and bruised,
May my weak voice finally sing out,
Father I'm coming home to you.