19.11.06

There must be a way the two worlds can collide. The concept of those two worlds was never far from my thoughts in the states, but I find it even more pertinent in Central America. The space between those who walk on the outside, as Colossians says, and those who walk on the inside could be equated to the space between Walmart and the Sigua market. Two worlds that somehow must survive and coexist together are further apart than the Earth’s moon and the moons of Jupiter. Why is it that this dichotomy is so strong? I feel pulled by both forces and wonder if others walk the same ground I do. I know that Jesus was perfect and so he was able to righteously walk with those on the outside. And even though I’m so far from perfect, I believe he still calls me to do so. It’s a difficult road. There’s too much desperation. Too many battles to fight and not enough energy to do so. But somehow that’s where I think he wants me. I’ve read the stories of some famous Christians who battle things on the mission field. I don’t really consider my life here as one on a mission field. I don’t work for a mission’s organization. I don’t raise support. I feel more like a part of the world than I ever have before. Which, ironically, is why I feel more than ever that I have a mission, more so than I feel I’m a missionary.
A coworker who I have been slowly (and often reluctantly) chatting with about God has been reading the book Blue Like Jazz. I gave it to him the other day just to see if he’d be interested. He told me today that he is really enjoying it. Despite the fact that I have known God as long as I’ve known how to tie my own shoes, I still don’t readily trust in his power. One would think that after 15 years, I would get the picture that He really is Omnipotent. But I’m not mature like that. I’m too fickle. I still think that the story of Paul was a fairy tale, at least I live like I think that. This coworker is one who very often talks about “getting some ass” and drinks and smokes and yada yada. He is always surprised if ever I drink in front of him, and has challenged himself to find a way to get me drunk.
What do I see when I look at him? Hopelessness. What does God see? Either a way to show His glory through me, or a way to show His glory through him—or both. Whether or not this person will come to know Christ through this rather tough, but very real situation, I am coming to know Christ. I am learning that I must trust Him despite what my common sense says. I must accept the fact—and not just accept it but believe it with all my heart—that the power of the Cross can transcend any misconception about Christians, any addiction, any stronghold of the enemy. And that the power of the Cross can bridge the great chasm between not only God and man, but the “religious” world and the “secular” world. The two worlds can collide without a big bang. Despite the fact that, oh...70% of the Christians I meet don’t seem to have anything to do with the world around them unless it’s to their advantage (I’m certainly to blame here), I know that there is a better way. I want to walk that better path. I want to find the balance between the two worlds with the cross on the forefront of my mind. I want to be “a friend of publicans and sinners” because unlike Christ, I am a sinner which should make me equally understanding of their situations, and just like Paul, I am the worst of those. So somehow I can joke around with this coworker, but at the same time, I can portray Christ both in my walk and in my words. And as nice as it is to be surprised that he is enjoying a book about what I would call authentic faith, it would be even nicer to be a place where such things are no longer surprising, but merely expected from such a powerful God.