Clutter of words

Sorry about the “not writing” part.  Sometimes I get a “cynical spell” on the use of words.  It happens from time to time.

 It is so difficult sometimes to convey the love of Jesus to the people in my life.  What can I say to them?  That Jesus loves them?  That sentence is a cliché.  It is true, but all our talking have watered it down to the point where I only see sceptics looking back at me.  How can I show people that they are loved?  How can I tell them that I “see” in them, what they have not even begun to fathom in themselves?  All they see when they look at themselves is ugliness, and all I see is beauty.  How do I convey what I see?   By using words?  All the empty talking, and talking, and talking have numbed our senses to the love of a scary wonderful Jesus.  The One that can truly make our lives ALIVE.  Are words the best way to convey the love of Jesus?  I wonder…..

How did we get to a place where something which was once alive to where we are now?  Perhaps this illustration of Mike Riddell is a good one to use.

   “A great explorer once returned to her people. They were eager to know all about her adventures, and in particular about the mighty Amazon which she had travelled. But how could she speak of the feelings which had flooded her heart when she saw exotic flowers and heard the night sounds of the forests; when she sensed the danger of the wild beasts or paddled her canoe over treacherous rapids? She said to the people “go and find out for yourselves.” To guide them she drew a map of the river.

   They pounced on the map. They framed it in their town hall. They made copies of it for themselves. They studied it night and day and became experts in interpreting the river. They knew its every turn and bend, they knew how broad it was, how deep, where the rapids and the waterfalls were. And yet not one of them ever left the village to see the river for themselves.”

What happens when we never leave “what we know”?  What happens when we do not go “out there” and do the exploring ourselves?  What happens when we are content to sit and listen to the wonderful stories explorers tell us?  What happens when the explorer decides to settle?  And most important, what happens to us when we are content to listen to the wonderful storyteller who has NEVER LEFT the villiage?  We know everything, but are experiencing nothing.  Jesus is real.  Have we any idea what it means? For us and the people around us?

 I don’t think we know the implications of a Jesus that is actually alive.  But what I do know is that words are not enough to convey it.


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