|
|
 |
| Whoever
Wants To, Will |
|
“Whoever wants
to win a soul will. The rest will make excuses.” That’s a
powerful and sobering consideration. And a thrilling one too.
There are lots of things I want to do. I want to visit
Scotland and Belgium, the homelands of my forefathers. It
would be exciting to see the towns where they lived and some
of the countryside they roamed, and perhaps even meet a
distant relative or two. But how much more thrilling it would
be to see someone that I invited to the services when their
hair is wet, and their shirt collar is damp, and their eyes
brim with tears because they’ve just become a disciple of
the Lord. If I really want to see Scotland, I will. I’ll
save the money, and meanwhile learn more about where my family
came from. Jenn and I will get our passports, plan the time,
and make our reservations. If I really want to go, I will. And
if I really want to choke back my own tears, and say, “I’m
so proud of you!” as I hug that one out of a hundred
prospect I’ve brought to the Lord, I will.
I want to build a deck. I recently bought four books with
pictures and plans of decks and patios. I’ve looked at
scores of pictures and sketched dozens of plans. I’m looking
for the one that’s right. If I keep looking and sketching,
I’ll find it. How many sentences will I start with, “If
you’re ever looking…” or “There’s this fellah at
church who…” before I say it the right way, to the right
person, at the right time. If Brother Comer’s figured
correctly, I’ll start a hundred invitations that way. If I
want a shady spot outside to sip iced tea with Jennifer when
the June heat arrives in Houston, I’ll keep looking at
pictures. If I want to know the thrill of looking across the
auditorium during the song service and catching the eye of
someone who was ready when I invited, I’ll keep inviting.
That moment when our eyes meet and we smile at one another
across the building because we’re family now will make it
easy to invite a hundred more. If I want to experience that
joy of all joys, I will.
Jenn and I recently spent a weekend in Tennessee with our
family. My little nephew, Forrest, is just passed a year and a
half old and is the first of his generation in our family. He
calls me, “J-J” just like my sisters did when they were
little. On a sunny Saturday afternoon Forrest and I watched
the minnows dart in the shallows of the creek. We threw in
some rocks and giggled when they splashed water on us both. We
stuck our fingers in the clay and drew pictures and then wiped
them on our jeans. I don’t know how long we played, but it
was not long enough. As Forrest smacked a long stick on the
water and with mud-smudged cheeks smiled up at me for
approval, I thanked God for the joy of that little boy and
that memorable moment. Someday soon on a sunny Sunday
afternoon I want to eat at Johnny-Tamale’s and talk about
Dee’s sermon that morning, and about how good Manley May led
the song service, and Garrett Timmerman the prayer. And
it’ll be a special thrill because the person across the
table will have a spark in their eye and a shared enthusiasm
for such conversation. It’ll be a memorable moment spent
with that one out of a hundred soul who was looking for the
Lord, when our paths crossed. We’ll fight over the bill, and
laugh about taking a Sunday nap, and say, “See ya
tonight.” And we’ll shake hands and I’ll thank God for
the joy of that one out a hundred souls who was seeking the
Lord. If I really want to experience the satisfaction of that
moment and that prayer of thanks, I will.
I want to go to Scotland. I want to build a deck. I want to
spend more time with my little nephew, Forrest Andrew Pickrell.
But you know what I really want? I want to share with somebody
the joy of forgiveness, the thrill of worship, the promises of
the Bible, the faith of God. I want to hear them say to the
waitress as we’re leaving Johnny-T’s, “If you’re ever
looking…” That would be just fine. If I really want to
hear that, I will. |
|
|
|
Jason Moore
|
|
Copyright (C)
2008
Southside Church of Christ
All rights reserved.
|
|
|
