Da Lone-Warrior
May 29th 2005, 02:09 PM
I believe this fits here, inasmuch, it has a missiological focus.
One doesn't have to be geared to reaching people outside one's country of origin to be a missionary.
Tony Campolo, in his recent letter (http://www.tonycampolo.org/newsletter.shtml) to the EAPE, describes how he finds the source of his inspiration for his ministry from time spent in quiet contemplation and communion with God.
Dear Friends of EAPE,
This should be a different kind of letter. Now that I am seventy years old, I think it is about time that I explain myself to you. This way you will know what has kept me going, and what I hope will keep me going for some years to come, and what has provided the impetus for our work together in this ministry. Strange as it might seem, given all the time I spend on speaking to large groups of people, my inspiration comes mainly from times of quiet contemplation, and from the experiences I have with the God who comes to visit me at such times.
I find empty churches are good places for me. When I sit alone, especially in a darkened sanctuary, I find a peace that I seldom feel in other places. No telephone rings. No one breaks into the stillness of my solitude. The outside world seems to drop away, so that I often feel myself suspended in what a philosopher once called 'one hundred thousand fathoms of nothingness'. At such times, I am overwhelmed by the realization that I am alone with God, and it is then that I realize how much He cares for me. It is His love for me, felt in my aloneness, which elicits my great love for Him in return.
These sacred times of communion also stir within me an intense compassion for other people. This compassion does not come from some inner sense of 'oughtness', nor from any fear of the guilt that might sweep over me if I did not serve the needy in His name. Instead, this compassion comes from the incredible awareness that I am in Him and that He is in me. Alone with my God, His cares become contagious, and I catch them. His concern for His children who lack daily bread gradually takes hold of me. The pain that breaks His heart as He identifies with the victims of social injustice increasingly takes hold of my own heart too. His tears of anguish for those who suffer from sickness or loss slowly moisten my own eyes. It is in these moments, far from the crowds, that I receive the passion that drives my life.
I know that some of you know just what I am writing about, because you have experienced our God in the same way. If not, however, let me commend to you this simple prescription of Jesus:
But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
Why not give it a try for yourself? Why not step into an empty sanctuary – and not all sanctuaries are churches, just as not all churches are sanctuaries – and let God overwhelm you with His love? If you want to love Him, then allow yourself to sense His great love for you. If you do, you will discover that such intimacy with God will not stay just between the two of you, but rather will create in you an irresistible compassion for other people as well, especially those who are in need. Then you will indeed be more like Jesus.
Given what I have told you, perhaps you will now understand me better. You will know better why each month I write to you, pleading for your help in caring for the poor children of Haiti and Africa, the desperate men and women trapped in government housing projects, at-risk kids in failing inner-city schools, and old people who are lonely or sick. You will see why I don’t want to slow down even as I grow older myself.
And so I ask you again, for your gifts and for your prayers. I pray that you will respond, not out of guilt or fear, but because your heart too, is broken by the things that break the heart of God.
Sincerely,
TC
via
dlw
One doesn't have to be geared to reaching people outside one's country of origin to be a missionary.
Tony Campolo, in his recent letter (http://www.tonycampolo.org/newsletter.shtml) to the EAPE, describes how he finds the source of his inspiration for his ministry from time spent in quiet contemplation and communion with God.
Dear Friends of EAPE,
This should be a different kind of letter. Now that I am seventy years old, I think it is about time that I explain myself to you. This way you will know what has kept me going, and what I hope will keep me going for some years to come, and what has provided the impetus for our work together in this ministry. Strange as it might seem, given all the time I spend on speaking to large groups of people, my inspiration comes mainly from times of quiet contemplation, and from the experiences I have with the God who comes to visit me at such times.
I find empty churches are good places for me. When I sit alone, especially in a darkened sanctuary, I find a peace that I seldom feel in other places. No telephone rings. No one breaks into the stillness of my solitude. The outside world seems to drop away, so that I often feel myself suspended in what a philosopher once called 'one hundred thousand fathoms of nothingness'. At such times, I am overwhelmed by the realization that I am alone with God, and it is then that I realize how much He cares for me. It is His love for me, felt in my aloneness, which elicits my great love for Him in return.
These sacred times of communion also stir within me an intense compassion for other people. This compassion does not come from some inner sense of 'oughtness', nor from any fear of the guilt that might sweep over me if I did not serve the needy in His name. Instead, this compassion comes from the incredible awareness that I am in Him and that He is in me. Alone with my God, His cares become contagious, and I catch them. His concern for His children who lack daily bread gradually takes hold of me. The pain that breaks His heart as He identifies with the victims of social injustice increasingly takes hold of my own heart too. His tears of anguish for those who suffer from sickness or loss slowly moisten my own eyes. It is in these moments, far from the crowds, that I receive the passion that drives my life.
I know that some of you know just what I am writing about, because you have experienced our God in the same way. If not, however, let me commend to you this simple prescription of Jesus:
But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
Why not give it a try for yourself? Why not step into an empty sanctuary – and not all sanctuaries are churches, just as not all churches are sanctuaries – and let God overwhelm you with His love? If you want to love Him, then allow yourself to sense His great love for you. If you do, you will discover that such intimacy with God will not stay just between the two of you, but rather will create in you an irresistible compassion for other people as well, especially those who are in need. Then you will indeed be more like Jesus.
Given what I have told you, perhaps you will now understand me better. You will know better why each month I write to you, pleading for your help in caring for the poor children of Haiti and Africa, the desperate men and women trapped in government housing projects, at-risk kids in failing inner-city schools, and old people who are lonely or sick. You will see why I don’t want to slow down even as I grow older myself.
And so I ask you again, for your gifts and for your prayers. I pray that you will respond, not out of guilt or fear, but because your heart too, is broken by the things that break the heart of God.
Sincerely,
TC
via
dlw