living. not dying.

There has to come a point where we all must sit down and actually examine what the world has been saying about us.  Are we a chosen generation?  The generation that has finally had enough of injustice and is ready to put a stop to the wars, the poverty, the genocide, the evil?  The generation that is going to finally reach the Nations for Christ?  Are we the people who are going to stand firm and say “no more”?  It all comes down to the question:

Can we be a generation of shattered people who are alive and breathing simply for the bleeding hope of Glory?

 I think we can be.

And I am here to live and die for that Glory.  But I am here much more to live, for plenty of people are willing to die for a cause, any cause, but very few are willing to live.  Because to live for a cause is to give up everything you own, to sacrifice all that you hold for the greater good.  It means to look forward and forget your past, to loosen your grip on fate and to acknowledge that the world is much bigger than you are.  To live for a cause is to begin again; fresh, naked, and with nothing.

Just as my good friend Jedidiah once said, “The ones who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do.”

I might still be too young and idealistic, or I might just be crazy, but I see no reason why we can’t turn the world upside.  There is nothing that holds ground on why the Church today is and should be so far away from what the Bible laid it out to be.  There is no reason every person on this earth should not be fed, clothed, cared for, and told about Christ.  And honestly the only reason I see for any of those things not happening can be summed up in our million dollar houses, the mad cash we dish out for computers, private education, the latest greatest junk, and because we are obsessed with everything about ourselves, anything but the welfare of others.

But I think that a new day is coming, truly it’s already here. A new day where we are not going to be okay with that reason any more. 

We are reclaiming Christianity for the name of Christ and reshaping how humanity sees each other.  Each person on this planet has a story, all 7 billion of us.  And each story is unique, each story is beautiful, each story is vitally important to the human race.  I really do believe that with my whole heart and people may look at me and laugh and point and remark on how off I may be.  And really, I could be wrong but I like to think that’s how Jesus loves people.  And if Jesus loves all 7 billion of us misfits, why shouldn’t we love each other?  And as soon as anyone gives me a good “reason” why not, then I’ll admit that I’m wrong.  But from the Scripture I have read and from the orphans in Africa that I have held, my conviction holds true.  Jesus loves every single one of us and therefore so will I.  And so should we all.

So with that conviction and all, the question has to asked, “how do we do this?”  Well, the best answer I have is to love people with everything we have, we hold, and we do.  To build authentic relationships with people around us regardless of any boundary of race or social limitations.  To give our time to people who need it.  To share what we own with people who need it.  To share Christ with every single person we meet with our words but more importantly with every act we perform.  To hold the broken, to cry with the hurting, to laugh with friends, to sing and dance with strangers, but to come and realize that we are all brothers and sisters.  To quit dying for our own American dreams and to start living for Glory. 

One day I will be face to face with Jesus and He look at me and ask me how I used what He gave me for His glory.  And as I stare deeply into the face of Glory, my Soul’s Desire, I pray that by the grace of God I will be able to show Him how I chose to not just die for Him, but to live.  I know that He will embrace me regardless, because I am washed by the blood of Jesus, but oh how dearly I long to hear Him say, “well done my good and faithful servant.”  There is nothing else I desire more.  There are no other words that I would live to hear. 

The word Hallelujah means “praise the Lord” and the most beautiful thing about this word is that it’s never been translated.  Its originally Hebrew and it’s been Hallelujah since David uttered it while writing the Psalms until now as I’m sitting here on this bench typing it.  Hallelujah can be heard echoing out of gathering in the slums of Kampala to the house churches in China and back to the mega-churches in America.  It is known throughout the whole word as one word.  It’s simple, profound, cross-cultural, and world changing.   

In October I had Hallelujah tattooed on my forearm.  I did this for many reasons, but one of those reasons was because it’s a universal word.  It’s the anthem of believers everywhere. When I in Africa this last summer, kids would come up to me and point to my arm asking me what it said and when I said, “Hallelujah” they would nod and respond, “Amen!”.  I had it written on me forever in order to remember that the old man dying on the war-tattered streets of Kabul, Afghanistan is just as much my brother as the kid sitting next to me in my sociology class.  One day every tribe, every tongue, and every Nation will sing Hallelujah together before the throne of God.  Why can’t we, as a human race, start that now?  I believe we can.  I believe we must because it’s simple: Jesus says to. 

So.  Who’s with me?

The Summer on the Mount

There are no words to try and describe this summer.  Maybe that is the reason that I have sat down numerous times and attempted to write a catchy and cliché blog about how great it was only to find that by the end of the post, I am just rambling on and on with empty phrases about nothing.

 I have been to Africa and back (thank the Lord I was able to spit a couple paragraphs of some worth out about that experience) and to auditoriums where every person sat on the edge of their chairs with tears rolling down their cheeks dreaming of changing the world.  I have seen unshakable joy in the faces of men obsessed with Hope and despair in the sunken eyes of children dying of AIDS.  I have sat as the disciples did at Jesus’ feet as He spoke to them the greatest sermon ever taught.  I have wept and I have laughed and sung and danced.  I have been forced to my knees in utter surrender and sprayed hate and confusion in the face of God.  I have been shattered.  I have been healed.  I have been angry.  I have been glad.  I have lived.

And again I say; there are no words to try and describe this summer.  In May I embarked on the journey by starting to memorize the Sermon on the Mount and I was not in any way prepared for the great adventure that awaited me.  I started off very slow by trying to hold a couple verses a day but was soon blown away when I learned the Beatitudes and realized the magnitude of how different we are than what Jesus described for His followers to be.  “Be poor in spirit,” Jesus said and then I realized how last time I checked, we all thought God would be lucky to have us in Church.  He needs us.  He needs the United States to make His name known.  “well,” I thought, “0 for 1 so far.”  Then I moved on to the next verse.  “Blessed are those who mourn.”  Crap.  We suck at that.  Actually we do the opposite and love the drama on news about the latest gang fight or news of people dying in an attack somewhere in the Middle East.  Slowly but surely I started to see the divide.  I moved on to the next and to the next and with every verse, every attribute, I was more broken for us.  I was more broken for me, how far away I was.  About a month into the quest, I left for Africa and by the time I was memorizing Jesus’ words in the slums of Kampala I finally saw what I had needed to learn all along:

If I am to follow Jesus, I must live in the margins.

I can no longer accept what everyone around me is telling me.  It is impossible to follow Jesus and pledge allegiance anywhere else.  I was reading things and thinking of things that I had never thought of before.  Simple things such as when Jesus said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”  I had always thought the words stopped there.  But this summer, I kept reading and found a command that came after, words that change everything.  Why do we pray for our enemies?  Well according to Jesus it’s to, “pray that they may become sons of your Father who is in Heaven.”  Wait. What?  It’s not to so that they may die?  We’re not supposed to go blow people up?  I’m supposed to pray that my enemies become Christ-followers?  When the world is telling to pray for the death of Joseph Kony, or Osama bin Laden, I am suppose to be praying that they become my brothers?  When did I miss this in Sunday school?

When I landed in the United States after Africa, I was, as you can imagine, so confused that I really couldn’t see straight.   Right after that I left for Colorado and was blessed enough to sit under the teaching of Francis Chan and David Platt and was able to watch God’s heart for the Nations be manifest in an unbelievable and beautiful way among His people.  I watched Vision, Christ’s Vision, of the Great Commission actually being fulfilled.  I saw Jesus take my friend’s hearts in His hand and break them, only to replace them with His.  I heard whispers and murmurs of a Revival so much greater than I could have ever imagined.  I felt fire. 

The whole time, the Spirit kept writing Jesus’ upon my heart.  “When you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites.” “When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites.” “Lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven.” “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?”  Do I need to keep going?  Everyday I got up; I was punched in the face harder than the day before.  

I went right from Colorado to California and what awaited me was the most life-changing weekend I could have ever prayed for.  I walked onto the campus of the University of San Diego and was greeted by 650 maniacs who are in love with the impossible. 

This is where it gets hard to explain.  Many people have asked me what the Fourth Estate was and why I was involved with Invisible Children even when it’s not a “Christian” organization.  I don’t really have a good answer.  The best way I can explain it is on the last day of the conference, my heroes and my friends, Jason Russell and Jedidiah Jenkins made everyone stand up.  They told us to stand up and look around at the other people in the room, without saying anything.  And as I stood up and made eye contact with the other 650 people in that room, the Spirit said very clearly to me, “this is exactly where you are suppose to be.”  I cannot adequately describe the emotions that ran through me in those three minutes. 

That weekend I was overcome by Jesus placing the most brilliant minds in the world in front of me.  I heard ideas and plans on saving lives that I couldn’t even have thought of in my most wildest dreams.   We are all here together.  We are all humans.  We all have a story and my story would not be the same if it weren’t for my brother and my sister who are living theirs in Uganda.  We have to help one another.

Okay, I’m stopping there for a second. These words really aren’t cutting it for me.  To pull back and try again it’s simply this: I learned to live this summer. 

For the first time in my whole life I am willing to be labeled the lunatic for Christ.  I am willing to be spat on and talked about and made fun of.   This summer I saw that is impossible to live the life Jesus has described in the Sermon of the Mount and still love the things of this world.  It’s impossible to live the way He said and not be a lunatic.  Even now as I am sitting here in Starbucks in Fayetteville, AR I know that this is my “home” for the next four years but I also know that I won’t be home until I see Jesus face to face, so why do I continually pretend to be content?  Why do I continually pretend to be okay with how everything is going around me? 

I guess it is summed up pretty well by the story of my plane flight home from San Diego just a few short weeks ago.  I sat next to a nice elderly Canadian couple.  I began talking to them but didn’t get very far as they made it extremely clear that they didn’t want to be talking to me.  So I left them alone and turned to open the Word and spend time with Jesus. In only moments I was in hysterics as I listened and let the words of Psalm 10 and the Sermon on the Mount drive deep into my heart.  I can only imagine what this couple was thinking as they sat next to this 18 year old kid that was barefoot, wearing skinny jeans, had long wild hair and was crying like a little girl.  As the plane flight wrapped up and we began to land, I initiated conversation again and got the opportunity to tell them about the Fourth Estate and my heart for the Nations and Jesus.  The lady asked me, “are you a missionary?” I fumbled around for the words but eventually ended up saying something along the lines of, “I guess so? I just simply wanna love people, you know?  No matter if they’re here in America or in Africa.” She looked me deep in the eyes and said, “The world needs more people like you.” 

I am willing to be labeled a lunatic because Christ has saved my life and He has given me the grace to live for something so much bigger than myself.  If I am to live for Jesus, I must walk in the margins because even Christ Himself said, “the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.”

As a writer I cringe looking back over this post, because there is nothing but green staring back at me.  Green meaning, little squiggly lines showing me how many grammatical errors I made writing this post.  Most of the time, I would change every sentence.  But for today, I am okay with my green little friends because I know that some things cannot be explained by the English language and rules sometimes must be broken.  The English language cannot give justice to last three months of my life and the raw Love that Jesus showed me, embraced me with, replaced my heart with, and showed me how to love with.

Come Church, Arise

I’d like to clarify one thing before you read this post: I wish I were a Universalist.  Everything in me wants to be able to write this blog and walk through life with the earnest and honest belief that every person on earth is saved and spends eternity with Jesus.  I want desperately to be able to go to sleep tonight in peace because everybody, no matter who they are, what they have chosen, will have the second chance to choose Christ if they don’t in this life.  But my friends, I can’t say any of that, not even close and here I am, broken and bruised and heart-shattered because the complete opposite is true.

I’m not naïve enough to believe that I can convince any one in a short blog post that hell exists or that it doesn’t, for many have tried and failed miserably (go read, study, and pray for yourself).  All that I intend on doing is very plainly putting into words what has haunted me this summer.  I desire nothing more than to clearly push all of us (including myself) to something that has become a myth in the Church today: action. 

At the beginning of the summer I picked up Rob Bell’s new book about hell.  I picked it up with the arrogant legalistic view that everything he had to say would be nothing but heresy and that the guy was a lunatic.  What I found was that I should never be so quick to judge.  Bell makes a beautiful argument; no matter how un-Biblical and post-modern it may be, to why the Bible doesn’t teach condemnation or anything about hell.  I’ve grown up in a very Conservative Christian home and have been taught since I was very young to believe in hell and until recent years, the concept of denying its’ existence had never even crossed my mind.  But after reading Bell’s book the thought of hell not existing lingered around on my mind like a sweet aroma that didn’t lose it’s initial excitement.  What if hell doesn’t actually exist?  What if everything I’ve ever been taught wasn’t true?  What if everyone is eventually saved?  Whether they believe in Jesus, or Buddha, or Muhammad?

And then as I walked the streets of Kampala, Uganda, one thought entered my brain that crushed me: if that were true, why would Jesus have come and died the way He did?  If the argument about hell not existing were true and God had chosen to save everyone, then why in the world would He have come and died such a horrible death Himself?  There is no need.  God can do whatever He pleases and if from the beginning of time He had planned that all roads lead to Heaven, then Jesus would not have had to come and He would not have had to die.  No matter what argument I hear about blood being the only way to cleanse sins, none can stand in my mind because if everyone is saved, no matter what people choose, then blood is obviously not the only way. 

A couple of weeks ago I picked up Francis Chan’s new book about hell and I was not prepared for what I read in those devastating 150 pages.  I respect and look up to Chan as more of a mentor than a writer, and I was eager to see what He had to say about this issue.  Even though I wasn’t going to take everything he said as truth, I was still praying he would give me some biblical reason to not believe in hell.  (and keep in mind, this whole time I never actually came close to believing that there was no hell, I was only searching and longing for any true reason)  And if hell did exist, at least maybe it was just for a short time?  Maybe after 1000 years or so God just decided to destroy everything except Heaven and then at least all of those souls in hell could truly rest in peace?   I was desperate for something to quiet my raging and warring heart but what I read did nothing but bring about more anguish.  By the end of chapter three I had been convinced, not by Francis Chan but by the Spirit of the Living God that hell not only existed but that it was also eternal and the fate of every human being was more real than this computer that I am typing on.  Chapter three ended with a word of warning that God is God and He does what He desires to do.  He has never asked us to figure His ways out and to decide whether His way of doing justice fits our moral standard.  Who am I to question?  How is the clay to question the Potter?  Then Chan simply said, “Don’t get so lost in deciphering that you forget to tremble.”  At that line, I was in hysterics on the floor in front of Jesus.  As I wept and wondered how in the world any of this could be true, images of all of my friends flashed through my mind and with each face I saw, it literally felt like a dagger was digging into my heart.  And with each face, deeper and deeper, went the blade until I literally couldn’t think straight anymore.  And what killed me more than anything is that I truly believe that by the blood of Jesus I am saved, but how I don’t deserve this grace more than anyone else.  The blood of Jesus was meant just as much for Hitler and for Osama bin Laden as it was for me.  Do I believe that?  Doesn’t the Bible say that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God?  Doesn’t that put me in the same category as the most notorious sinners in history?  Shouldn’t I be rotting in the cell next to Nero and be enduring the same beatings and torture as Judas Iscariot?

I realize, understand, and know that each of us come to the place of having to accept the scandalous and violent grace of Jesus.  Although I will never fully see why or how any of it is possible, I believe with my whole heart that Jesus is real and that He came and died and He rose again and that He desires for every person on this planet to hear of His name and to be with Him forever.  I do not know why and will never know why God can allow people to not choose Him, but I do know He is merciful and His justice is perfect and that He is God and that I am not.  To put human limitations on God is the most arrogant thing any of us could ever do. 

To echo Paul from Romans 13, the time of our salvation is much nearer than we first believed.  My brothers and my sisters, time is running out.  I thank God every day for the past year and the small taste of Revival many of us got to see and for how many souls came face to face with Jesus in that month, but it is imperative that we do not settle.  Millions and millions of people die without ever hearing the name of Jesus and here we are, many of us completely content with playing patty-cake with each other on Sunday mornings while people burn all around us. If I believe with my whole being that Jesus is the only way, why would I ever keep that to myself?  How selfish of me to pretend the way people are living is okay, as long as they’re happy.  To compromise truth is one of the worst things we could ever do and Church, we must stop compromising.  Jesus gave us a command to fulfill the Great Commission and it’s about time we all got on the same page.  There are many believers around the world who are living and dying for that vision, who are giving everything to that the Nations are reached for Jesus.  We have to catch on, we must start living that vision as well.

Today 1.5 billion Muslims started to observe Ramadan.  Many of who have never met a follower of Christ.  Where are we going, if not to the world?  We have to live for Christ and proclaim to everyone His name.

I have only known and been following Jesus a very short time, so hear me when I say that this is more for my ears than anyone else’s.  I am so young and am only an infant believer.  I know without a doubt I have a long way to go and am not better than anyone else.  I only wish to run with the vision of fulfilling the Great Commission along side of every Christ-follower alive.

Richard Stearns says, “2000 years ago 12 men changed the world, and I believe it can happen again.”

One day we will sing Hallelujah and be in front of Glory.  May we all be able to say we ran the race well by the grace of God.  What if we all heard our Soul’s Desire say to us, “well done, my good and faithful servant”?  What if we all lived and breathed for Jesus?  What if we weren’t just called the Church, but acted as the Bride of Christ?

The time is now.  Come Church, arise.  

Why I Suck at Transitioning

Since I have gotten home from Uganda I have been asked more times than I can count, “how are you transitioning?”  While this is obviously a valid and important question, it leaves a sour taste in my mouth whenever I attempt to answer it.  This is the third summer in a row that I’ve been able me to go to Africa and each summer has marked me for life in a different and beautiful way.  The first summer that I went to Uganda my worldview was completely wrecked and last summer, Ethiopia showed me how Jesus is not just a part of our lives but is indeed to be our wholes lives when we claim to follow Him.  And this summer had more in store than I could have ever imagined.

The reason I said what I did about trying to answer the transitioning question is because since the first day I stepped foot back in America after my first trip to Africa, I have not been successful in transitioning back into American life.  God broke my heart in a way that it has not healed and I can truly say that I have been haunted by the images I saw in the slums the summer of 2009.  God has risen up mentors and friends in my life who haven’t let me even begin to forget what I saw and have pushed me to be intentional about living a recklessly abandoned life for Christ.   Through those two trips, He also made it very clear to me that I am to pursue overseas missions while I continue to follow the Spirit’s leading as far as my future goes.

This summer my prayer was that God would allow me to see the Nations through His eyes, to feel sorrow with His heart, and to confront evil with His justice.  As you all know we were in Uganda this summer primarily to do ear piercing clinics because of the problem with witchdoctors abducting children.  We started the clinics the day after we arrived in country and I was thrown into the mix as a team leader.  We had two piercers per team and the first day proved to our whole group how much God had put on our plates.  The second day of the piercings Jesus began to answer my prayer.  I remember very specifically one little girl who we knelt down to pierce and the overwhelming love and compassion that engulfed my heart, so much so that I became distractingly emotional and had to hand off my post as a piercer.  What Jesus did was let me begin to see those kids through His eyes and to feel for them just a small portion of the love He loves them with.  For the rest of the trip my role was to intercede for each child that we were blessed to encounter.  When it was all said and done we were able to use 800 pairs of earrings and shared the Gospel with many others while we were in the slums.  It was an incredible experience to watch Micah 6:8 become a true part of all our lives.  He has told us to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with the Lord our God and our whole team got to see that start to make sense to our spoiled and shallow American minds.  It’s humbling that Jesus let us be a small part of his heartbeat for Uganda.

Thank you my brothers and sisters for supporting me both financially and with your constant and faithful prayers.  We felt the Spirit’s protection and guidance in unbelievable ways as we showed the Jesus Film deep into the slums at night and charged hell with every ear that we pierced. 

Being back from this last trip, my answer to every transitioning question has only gotten more disappointing because there is no such thing as transitioning back to normal life any longer.  Any hope I ever had of living that normal life was shattered along with my heart three summers ago.

the red soil of Africa

Two years ago I stepped onto African soil for the first time and since that moment my life has been turned, flipped, broken, crushed, thrown, and soaked in Glory. 

Africa didn’t change me, God did.  But He used that beautiful continent in a way that I could have never believed when I signed the paper to go on the first trip to Uganda.  On that trip I saw poverty and evil for the first time in my life and have never been the same.  It’s almost as if once you not only see injustice, but step into injustice, you have the single choice of whether to start living or to start dying.  By the grace of God, I chose to live.  Although the last two years I have literally been haunted by those images and realities, I have been learning to walk with Christ, by His grace, with a mangled and beautiful heart. 

Last summer I went back to Ethiopia and was introduced to a whole new culture and God once again opened my ignorant American eyes up to the world and how in Africa, yes even in Africa, there are diverse and different cultures (I was so stinking oblivious.  Every country in Africa is the same, right?!).  I was given the gift of seeing others live with Christ as their life, not just a part, but their entire lives.  I saw love in the arms of barbershop employees and hope in the eyes of AIDS orphans, and overall Jesus let me choose to live, a little more.

Tomorrow I am returning to Uganda, Africa. 

This past year God has given me the chance to live in a way that is unexplainable and this past year I have at last realized that my heart for the world is only as real as my heart for the people around me, so even as I rant and rave about Africa, please understand that I am not so wrapped up in over there, that I am missing out on here. 

But finally, God is giving me the gift of going and I wait with eager longing for the first African sunrise and the last sunset.

Many of you know and have heard about our trip, but I want to give you all a brief run down so that you all can pray fervently.

In a stupidly brief explanation, here it is: There is a huge problem in Uganda with witchdoctors, and these witchdoctors will abduct children and mutilate them and sell their body parts to business owners who bury the parts under their businesses for good luck.  Its sounds like a bad dream, and truthfully like a poorly put together horror movie, but my brothers and sisters, what is going on is just as real as the hands I type this with.  We were made aware of this terrible tradition last summer.  Soon after the situation had been addressed, it was discovered that the witchdoctors would only abduct “pure” children, with no deformities.  Well, a deformity can be something as small and as insignificant as a pierced ear.  Some children’s parents will put sticks in their ears in order to protect them.  So we started working with some pastors we know in Uganda and before we knew it, God had opened a way to fight injustice, to charge the gates of Hell, to be the Church, the hands and feet of Christ.

Next week we will be doing five ear piercing clinics in five different slums in Kampala, Uganda.  We are working with local pastors and Ugandan Gov’t and will be sharing the Gospel while we have the clinics. 

As you can imagine, there are many concerns with all of that and believe me, whatever concern is filling your mind right now has most likely been confronted.  Safety procedures and cleanliness and all of the obvious issues have been addressed by countless people coming together and every health problem and so on and so forth has not only been tackled head on, but prayed about for hours upon end.  

But I not only ask you to pray, but urge you to pray, beg you to pray.  Jesus has commissioned each one of us on the team to go, He handpicked us since the beginning of time to go on this trip and each one is ready.  To say we are confident in the Lord’s leading and provision for our team is an understatement.  The same hand that molding the Universe is holding us.  Who shall we fear?  Surely not the witchdoctors or any evil for, our King, He has already overcome. 

Please be on your knees with us next week and be continually interceding for us in Jesus name.  Pray for God to be glorified, for justice to be done in the midst of untold evil and for countless lives to not only be literally saved from the witchdoctors but for many many many more lives to be saved for Eternity through the redeeming love of Christ.  Pray for protection for our team but much more for our Ugandan brothers and sisters who will be on the frontlines with us, for their safety is much more at risk. 

In 15 hours I will be on my way back to Africa.  Hallelujah.

I went to Passion this last April and God absolutely blew my mind, but one thing He did was bless my life in an untold way by a small sheet of paper.  I wont go into details because frankly, many people who will read this would call me a lunatic, but in short, I received a beautiful and unforgettable note from a true saint the last night of the conference.  The note ended with the words, “the red soil of Africa will beautify your feet”…

Next week, my feet will be beautified once again. 

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with the Lord your God?”

-Micah 6:8

He's Not Done Yet

“I refuse to pray small prayers to a huge God.”

-Louie Giglio

This past week I went to freshman orientation for the University of Arkansas and needless to say, I am ridiculously pumped for the next chapter in my life.  While I was there, I got to spend quite a bit of time sitting and listening to people talk about the University like it was the greatest place on the planet.  As I walked throughout the school and met my future classmates and heard from current students and faculty, I had a deep and overwhelming sense of longing for nothing but to see Christ set that campus on fire.  I envisioned students gathered at the Greek Theatre praying every month, as a follow up to the Rising last semester.  I got future glimpses of the earth-shattering conversations that would take place in dorm rooms, in coffee shops, in Brough, in classrooms, in the Union, and everywhere else.  It was almost as if Jesus gave me a sip of future fire that will rip through the foundations of Fayetteville. 

But more than anything, He simply began the process of breaking my heart for that school as He has begun to do in the hearts of so many already.  There are far too many students, from all different walks of life, on the campus in Fayetteville who love Jesus with everything in them, for something huge not to happen.  I have heard from friends who are in all sorts of various student ministries and churches, many of them don’t even know each other (yet), who all desire the same thing.  They want Revival.  But what is so beautiful is that all of them seek Revival for Jesus, not just for Revival’s sake but because they are desperately seeking Jesus’ face and His love and to be His hands and feet. 

God has begun a great work here in Little Rock and here I am to say that it isn’t even close to being over.  This city, this state, has seen nothing compared to what the Lord has in store for us. 

A couple of weeks ago, as the fire of Revival began to fade, I was extremely discouraged.  It was a Tuesday and I was supposed to be meeting with my friend Niki at Starbucks when my buddy Philip walked in.  I hadn’t seen Philip in a long time so we greeted each other and he sat down to talk with me before the person he was suppose to meet with got there.  We started chatting about what Jesus had been doing and how the Spirit had been pouring out all over Little Rock when the girl he was meeting with, Susanna walked in.  We decided to just all sit together and keep talking and soon after Niki came.  Little did I know that the next two and a half hours of my life would once again revive my thirsty heart.  Philip told us of the amazing things happening in Hot Springs and his friends from Harding University who were seeing Jesus do unbelievable things.  Susanna and Niki spoke of the incredible things happening in Fayetteville and we discussed how Arkansas Tech was flourishing and schools and colleges and churches from literally all over the country were being ignited.  God is on the move and He is readying us for something much greater than we first believed. 

Don’t the words of Habakkuk come to life again? “Look around at the nations: look and be amazed! For I am doing something in your own day, something you wouldn’t believe even if someone told you about it.”

And the humbling and punch-you-in-the-face truth that Paul writes out, “Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever.”

We are beginning to know that life is much more than empty legalistic Christianity and the American dream.  We are starting to see that life is Christ.  We are alive to know Him, to make Him known and to allow the Holy Spirit to guide us in every step, every breath, every word, every deed. 

It all comes down to if we believe Jesus or not, and whether we think He was a liar.  He told us His followers “you are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.  Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but instead on a stand and it gives light to all in the house.”  If we believe him then we believe that we are the light of the world.  And if we are the light of the world then I move the motion that we stop hiding underneath our baskets. 

This world is in desperate need for Jesus.  He is doing great things and He will continue to do greater things. 

I have to keep remembering that the question is not whether Revival is going to happen or not, the question is, “will we let it happen?” And my prayer is that we will be a generation so in love and obsessed with Christ that He will be free to move through us as He pleases and the answer to that question will be an undeniable and powerful, yes.  By His power and His power alone we breathe and I believe with everything in me that He is going to rock this state and this country like we could never fathom, to such a degree that all people can do is fall to faces and whisper, Hallelujah.

Go.

If Jesus told me to go, would I go?

If Jesus told me to pick up nothing and step out into the world, would I go?  Would I go knowing that I was leaving my dear family who has sacrificed so much for me?  Would I go knowing that I was leaving my mom who has spent hours on her face for me and that Jesus would win my heart?  For my dad who has prayed faithfully for me everyday, who taught me to play catch and what it means to be a man of integrity?  Would I go knowing that I was leaving my twin, my best friend, my womb mate?  What about my sisters who have both made dents in my life in ways that no one else ever could?  Would I go knowing that I was leaving behind friends who have shaped the way I walk each day and who have spent countless hours praying with me and laughing and crying and living life with me? 

Sometimes I like to look in the mirror and proudly boast, “of course I would.”  I mean, seriously, I’ve prayed that prayer, I’ve sung that song, I’ve read that verse… wouldn’t I go?  Other times I sit and hide myself in a corner because if I go, then I won’t come back and I know that.  If I say yes to God, if I fall to my knees and proclaim just as Isaiah so humbly did, “Here am I. Send Me.” then there is no turning back. 

I have even been arrogant enough to teach on Hebrews 11 to my youth group and about Moses and how “he went out, not knowing where he was going.” If I was Moses and God told me to go, would I have gone? 

Would I go although I would be facing unknown lands, unknown people, unknown languages, unknown finances, unknown safety, unknown comfort, unknown shelter, unknown success, unknown education, unknown food? 

Throw away all the expectations and the way I should choose.  Throw away all the ways people around have taught me to react and how the church leaders think I should choose to use my talents.  Throw away all pride, all self-righteousness.  Throw away everything except the choice of whether or not I will go.  Can I step into a world unknown?  Can I trust knowing that this could cripple me?  Can I go not even knowing if I’ll have the money?  Can I go not knowing whether or not I will ever see my family again, my friends again, my comfort?  

It all comes down to the simple and pure realization that I am known by the King of the World.  I am held in the hand of the same Being who created the Universe.  I am sung over by the God Almighty.  I am healed by the Great Physician.  I am loved by Abba! by Father!  I am led by the Spirit of the Living God. I am breathing by the divine breath of Yeshua. 

On my own, I could never go.  The only way I could ever and will ever step out into an unknown world is when I finally see that I am truly known even in the midst of the dark and unsettled horrors of humanity.  I am not strong enough or righteous enough to go.  I can not pay for myself or fend for myself or fight for myself or sing for myself or dance for myself or love for myself or laugh for myself or breathe for myself.

I am His and only by His unrivaled, violent, beautiful, and scandalous Grace will I ever be able to go.