Christians With Mouths

Ever since coming to MSUM about 4 months ago, I’ve been praying earnestly that God would give me opportunities to share the gospel with people who are not Christians. Most of my life back home in Brainerd was spent surrounded by believers of varying types of commitment (some of whom I would argue were not Christians at all, just church goers, but that’s another post) and I didn’t have much interaction with people who denied Christ. The opposite is true here. There are certainly believers, but the people that I spend my day-to-day life with are far from anything resembling Christian, and I am eager to see them know the Lord.

There have been several times where I’ve gotten into conversations with various people and been able to lay out parts of the gospel, for which I am glad, but something in my spirit has told me that that is not nearly enough. So, over the last few weeks I’ve been praying Ephesians 6:19 for myself , asking “that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel” (NIV). It’s not enough to have casual conversations with people one-on-one over lunch, nor to be teaching Christians how to better follow Christ. In Spurgeon’s “Lectures to my Students” he frequently declares that the measure of the fruitfulness of man’s ministry is whether or not people are coming to Christ. I want that kind of ministry! I want our Lord to overflow my heart and for people to hear and come to believe and be saved from eternal wrath. I want to “go and make disciples, baptizing them and teaching them to obey” all that Christ commanded.

Up until Monday night that desire had been, for the most part, one that simply dwelt in my heart and didn’t lead to action. An opportunity to turn a conversation to Christ would come up and I would let it pass. I would sit silently at the dinner table with people who don’t believe, feeling the sorrow and weight of their lost souls upon mine and yet stay silent. I would ignore the Spirits urging, desperately wishing that I had an example of evangelism to look to and imitate. Even the times that conversations did turn to “spiritual” things, rarely did I bold-facedly proclaim the gospel. Sure, there are many people here that know I am Christian, but only a very few who really know the extent of what that means.

Monday nights I’ve had the great opportunity to get together with a growing group of people to study through the book of John, a thing that has been a great source of joy to me. We come together in the 3rd West Ballard lounge (the floor I live on) at around 8 and pray, study, and talk. On this particular evening I came with heavy heart and simply was not feeling it the way I normally do. Something was out of sync in my heart, but we worked our way through John 4 and had some fair discussion and closed in prayer. People hung around for a bit, chatted, and eventually dispersed as I went to do some late night homework, grabbing a pile of books and heading down the hall towards the library to be a diligent student. God, however, had other plans.

I walked past one of the guys’ rooms where several people where gathered with the door open, watching tv, and as I passed I began to pray the prayer I have prayed so often these last few weeks, asking that God would loose my tongue to speak the gospel boldly to all men. Oh, how terribly and beautifully swift God is to answer some prayers! Before I had made it down the first flight of stairs the Spirit stopped me in my tracks with the horrible feeling that I must – absolutely must – go back into that room and proclaim the gospel. I felt like Moses must have, standing there before that burning bush knowing full well that this was a god commanding him to go back to Egypt where he was known as a murderer, yet resisting because everything in him told him that it was wrong and impossible to do. I made several great excuses (if I do say so myself) but the He would have none of it.

“I don’t know what to say.”
“Moses said the same thing. Am I not the one who made your tongue and gave you speech?”
“It’s already late and I have homework. I’ll talk to them some other time.”
“No. Not later. Now.”
“They won’t listen, they’re busy watching something.”
“Their hearing is in my hands. What does it matter to you? Go and speak.”
“But I don’t want to!”
“Have you not prayed for this for weeks now?”

A thousand thoughts ran through this foolish mind of mine in the few minutes I stood motionless there on the landing between the 3rd and 2nd floors of Ballard. Finally, with my heart beating hard in my chest, I walked back up the stairs and went to the room. Then I boldly proclaimed the gospel of Christ and everyone in the room was pierced to the heart and said, “What must we do to be saved,” right? That’s how the story would have gone if I’d written it, but I didn’t. Far from it.

I walked back and stood in the doorway listening in and saying nothing for about 5 minutes, despite the fact that a couple people asked me what was up and gave the perfect opportunity. Finally I walked away back to my room, cursing my cowardice. God kept prodding me. I wasn’t getting out of this one.

Finally I returned, stood there for another minute or two until Taylor, to my knowledge the only other believer on m floor, looked at me and asked me something. I don’t remember what it was, only that I took the opportunity to ask for the tv to be muted. Dead silence filled the room as everyone stared at me, and after a few seconds I spoke.

To be honest, I don’t completely know what I said. It was certainly no gospel presentation crafted to give people a knowledge of Christ, much less something cut from the book of Acts as Paul preachers on the cities of his time. But I do know that I was terrified before I began and the moment that I started speaking it was as if I had been dropped into a river of peace. It’s a feeling I can only recall experiencing maybe two other times in my life. I spoke, and they stared blankly back at me, except for Taylor, who looked somewhat in awe.

I spoke for only a few minutes, stumbling over words until I felt as if I had nothing more to say, then walked away. Laughter followed me as I walked back down the stairs, but I couldn’t have cared less. Actually, I think that hearing the laughter brought me an even greater joy than dead silence would have. Oh the joy of doing the work of Christ and dying to self! Though the seed sowed there was a pitiful one, the work of growth is up to God. Though it took me nearly 10 minutes to obey a clear command, the Lord was still amazingly gracious. What happened there was something big; the first time I’ve openly proclaimed the gospel before a group of people who, for the most part, could care less about God.

Brothers and sisters, pray! Plead that our Lord would make us Christians with mouths that cannot but proclaim his word. Let us be a people who are like those Old Testament prophets who when they held silent burned in their hearts until they spoke. There are thousands who are perishing all about us. It is a terrible sin to stand by and watch, studying our Bibles and attending church and claiming to love God while letting those whom he loves die unknowingly. Let us be Christians with mouths that flow with glory; clay vessels that pour out the treasure within. Monday night, November 29th, 2010, was a huge step towards that in the heart of this man. May God bring you to the same place and continue in me as he has so powerfully begun!