The question’s been haunting me. Like a shadow, it shows up each day when the
light is right and I wonder,
How long will believers be devoted to the fatherless?
How long will believers be devoted to the fatherless?
I wrote recently in Tidal Wave how it feels like the focus of the American church is turning. There's talk of sacrifice. There's a hunt for perspective. And there are those stepping out in faith, laying down their lives in radical ways for others.
But believers? We’re fickle. We talk out of both sides of our mouths.
“Anything, God.
Really, anything.”
(As long as it lines up with what I deem important.)
“All for you, God.”
(As long as it feels like an adventure and lots of my
friends are doing it.)
“You’re all I need, God.”
(As long as I have an internet connection and can blog
about what I’m doing and how I’m feeling.)
“Forever, God.”
(Until the next great trend hits the American church.)
It’s no coincidence that the book of Revelation talks of
churches that forsake their first love (Revelation 2:4-5). How comfortable we are redefining God’s Word
to fit what we’re comfortable with!
The increasing awareness of the plight of orphans and the
rising obedience of Jesus followers to care for these children is long overdue. Embarrassingly overdue. Without excuse overdue. To see believers rise up and stand in the gap
for the least of these is awesome.
But how long will we do it?
Jelly shoes came and went. Striped jeans came and went. Milli Vanilli came and went so fast I didn’t
have time to lip sync along. These are
cultural fads yes, but are believers really that different when it comes to our
faith?
How often do we rally around something and then grow
tired of it? Our attention span for the
work of God is short. We get excited
about a new idea or ministry. We jump in
and then our jazz fades. Like that
sparkler my kids wave on the fourth of July, we start bright and finish with a
drawn-out fizzle.
Caring for the fatherless can’t be like that.
This can’t be “the decade of adoption” that gets followed
by something else.
The commands of God are timeless. When Scripture tells us to look after widows
and orphans, it doesn’t mean until we’ve adopted enough to look cute on a
Christmas card. It’s a lifelong
perspective completely and entirely entwined with our faith. Like the got milk ads of celebrities sporting
dairy hair, a believer’s life will have physical evidence of caring for others.
No matter if others forget.
No matter if the talk grows cold.
I write this because I know my heart. How quickly I return
to my former ways of thinking and being!
How quickly I think I’ve done enough!
How quickly I return to my regularly scheduled life.
But God doesn’t want His voice to be a transient force in
my heart. He wants permanence. He wants to set up shop, sell the old goods,
and put in new. He didn’t rent my heart;
his cross purchased it and caring for the least of these is part of His plan.
Friends, we can’t stop.
We can’t fizzle. We can’t fade on
this.
As the hands and feet of Christ, we are the only hope for
a broken world. We weren’t saved to wait
for the end. We were saved as part of
His plan to rescue and redeem.
Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me.”
The children are waiting. How long will we go?
