I’ve been thinking about Christians.
I know a guy who God used in amazing ways. But not anymore. He’s just a statistic now; one more person who amounted to nothing. Nothing sounds harsh, but I think it’s true. He told me once,
You cannot repair the irreparable mistakes of today by yielding to God tomorrow.
Profound. True. And sadly, proven by his life. This is what is most tragic though: who remembers and talks about the things God did through him before he showed that he was just like everyone else? I mean, God moved people through his words and showed people His love by this man’s actions. But now it’s all forgotten, or pushed to the back, because he did some selfish things.
It’s like Thomas, from the Gospels. Here is a guy who said he would follow Jesus to death, who told the other disciples “Let us also go, so that we may die with Him.” But that’s not what he is remembered for. No, he’s called doubting Thomas, because he needed to touch Jesus (his friend who he saw crucified) in order to believe he had come back from the dead. That’s something many people today, who did not see Jesus crucified still find difficult to believe. But he’s doubting Thomas.
See, eventually, we all become a statistic. Somehow, we screw up, and everything God ever did through us vanishes. Just like that. Gone.
A friend was showing me this Francis Chan video where this guy talked about how awesome it would be if a church were to just buy a field and meet there and quit wasting money on buildings (which I think is probably the best idea I’ve ever heard), yet all I could think about was, “what happens when he becomes a statistic?” Then we heard a sermon from Craig Groeschel, and the same thought emerged. And the truth is I think anything God has ever done through them would be relegated to pointless blogs and sparse memories from people who used to have hope in the Church.
What’s funny is I used to want to be these guys. I used to want to teach God’s word and show people how awesome I think God is. But the truth is I wouldn’t stand a chance. I’d become a statistic. And I’d hate that more than anything.
Of course, I might be wrong. Maybe I just have a headache. Maybe I’m just grumpy as a result. Maybe tomorrow will look different.