The Revolution Brigade

This is not the most unpopular teaching in history, this is just a tribute (sorry, I was listening to Rick Pino’s new CD, and thought how much he sounded like Jack Black, and that line just sort of happened.  Forgive me.)

I titled this post “The Blessedness of Possessing Nothing” because these thoughts first occured to me while reading A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God, in the middle of a chapter called “The Blessedness of Possessing Nothing.”  I began to ponder what it might mean to actually possess nothing, and whether that is something that God would truly call me to do.

What things do I allow to sit upon the throne of my heart, usurping the rightful place of a Holy God?

Well, my kids for sure.  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I couldn’t sacrifice them if the Lord called me to do it.  I often wonder how Abraham brought himself to do it.  Paul tells us that he had faith in God, and that if God slayed the boy he would surely raise him from the dead.  If you look more closely at the situation, you will see that Abraham had enthroned the promise on his heart at the expense of the one who promised it, and God was merely setting the order of things right.  Of course, we don’t sacrifice children in this day and age, but what if the Lord wanted to martyr them on the missions field, and the result would be an entire people group coming to the knowledge of God?  Would I consent?  Would I harbor bitter anger against God the rest of my days?

What about my riches?  My car.  My television.  My clothes.  Do any of these things prevent me from placing God on the throne of my heart?  One thing we learned from Abrahams story is that when stuff gets put on the throne of your heart, even very good stuff (his son, the promise, etc) it’s fair game to be put on the chopping block by the Lord.  He is called jealous, jealous, and He won’t relent. 

I’ve been trying my best to be more loving, more pastoral, more concerned for the people of God, and the Lord has been doing a work in me to that effect, but I have to make a blunt and honest statement or risk losing my credibility: 

I am sick to death with the materialistic nonsense in the Western church.

How on earth can I justify building another brick and mortar enclosure, and paying millions of dollars for it, when there are people called to the missions field who have not been equipped and financed?  How can I spend $500 on the montly church barbeque and give $25 per month to the missionary “as God enables?”  The list goes on and on.

How can I put $100 shoes on my feet when children in Africa have never had a pair?

How can I eat a $50 meal when 26,000 children will die today of starvation and preventable disease?  Think about it.  If similar conditions existed in our country, every child in our church would be dead by the time you finish reading this sentence.

How can I build a sanctuary when there are homeless people all over the face of the earth?

I’m asking myself as much as anybody else.  At least I’m prepared to do something about it.  I’m not bashing anybody’s building project either, so don’t start in on me about that.  If the shoe fits, wear it.  If the Holy Spirit convicts, respond to it.  Maybe you could do another service or two during the day instead of building a million dollar sanctuary?  The irony of the situation is that once you possess nothing, you can have anything.  This is what I’m learning in this season of separation that I’ve been going through where the Lord requires me to give up my stuff, one thing at a time.  I really don’t need anything. 

I think I’d like to come to America when my family returns from the missions field one day and build a church here.  I’d like to put it in a tent.  A great big, hot, open-air tent.  I’d like to give 75% of the revenue to missions.  I’d like to send people and finances.  You’re probably thinking “nobody would come.”  I’ll bet that you’re wrong.  I’ll bet that people want to break with their selfish “american dream syndrome” as much as God wants them to break free from it.  I bet they would give more, complain less, and show up even when it rained.  I’ll just bet they would.