Summary: Seizing our divine moments from God
Called to . . .
June 28, 2020
Have you ever felt you were supposed to do something? Sometimes it’s as simple as feeling like you need to call someone or pray for that person. Maybe you were certain you were called to a specific profession. Maybe you knew without a doubt the person you were going to marry. Maybe it was someone who needed help at a very specific moment.
Maybe it was a calling by God. Have you ever believed God was calling you to do something? Maybe it was to be involved in a ministry. Maybe it was simply and powerfully to give your life to Him. Maybe it was to turn from some addiction.
Erwin McManus tells the story about the time he was at the beach with his son and he saw a man who was disabled. This man was walking on the beach, but he kept falling in the uneven sand. The man was down the beach to his right. McManus said he put his arm around his son’s shoulder and guided him to turn left.
Have you ever done that? Have you seen someone in need, considered it for a fleeting moment, and then went the other way. McManus said the moment he did it, he regretted it, but there was no turning back . . . that is - until his 10 year old son turned to him and said, “I need to help that man.”
McManus said, ‘his words pierced through me, and I stood there paralyzed in my hypocrisy.’ His son ran across the beach to help that man. In many respects, whether that man who fell knew it or not, this was a divine moment. Eventually the man was helped to level ground and I’m sure didn’t think much more of it.
But for that 10 year old, it was a moment which was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. It was divine. McManus concluded ‘his sense of shame was overshadowed by a deep sense of pride in who his son was becoming.’
Have you ever faced this kind of moment? A moment filled with opportunity . . . and you let it slip away. Have you ever known you should go to the right, but you went to the left? Has it ever been in your power, within your ability to do good, yet you did nothing?
You see, you didn’t choose to do evil, you just chose not to get involved, you chose to be neutral, you chose to be a nonparticipant and to do nothing.
In many respects the way of life for the Christ follower has been to learn what are those things we’re not supposed to do, and focus on those. We learn a little about what to do, but we raise and teach our kids what not to do so that they would stay safe. I get it! I’ve been there. I’ve done it.
If we were to be really honest, the choices between good and evil, especially on what is evil, are pretty clear. We know the major sins, we kind of know the 10 commandments . . . we know what not to do. We may do them anyways, but we know pretty quickly what’s right and what’s wrong to do. And after doing what’s wrong, we tend to know it.
We don’t get stuck at this point. Again . . . it’s a choice. We choose to do what’s wrong, what’s sin and evil in the sight of God. These are almost the easy choices.
Where we get stuck - - is in choosing between so many good opportunities. And, so often our struggle comes in self loathing when we choose and end up doing nothing. The opportunities are there, but we’ve become so accustomed to moving away from the negative choices in life, that we miss out on the potential good we can do.
You see, we’re called to be holy. We read in the Bible, in Leviticus and later in 1 Peter, the admonition from God - Be holy as I am holy! You see to be holy - means to be set apart. It means we are viewed as faultless, as different from the world, because God is different from the world.
So, we define holiness, as separating ourselves from sin, as opposed to doing good. What I’m going after today and for the next number of weeks is a return to what we were talking about earlier in the year - WHO AM I IN CHRIST? Who has God called me to be? You see, I think we get hung up on what type of person am I supposed to be. And that’s important, but really, let’s be honest, we know who we’re supposed to be. If you’ve been a Christ follower for awhile, then you know . . . you know who you’re supposed to be.