I want to accomplish big things. I like to set goals — big goals.
When I was younger, I wanted to go to the moon — there’s a goal for you. Of course back then the Apollo program was in full-tilt boogie mode, so going to the moon was a thing — nowadays not so much.
I also want to climb Mt. Everest; I could still do that if I had the money — I’m old but, not too old to accomplish that goal. My only problem is I’m not a fan of heights or the cold. Maybe I don’t like to do big things as much as I like to dream about doing big things, I’m not sure.
In Deuteronomy 6:4 it says, I should love God with all of my “heart, soul and might.” That’s big! How do you do that? How do we have that kind of passion and commitment to the one true living God who is self-existent and makes things out of nothing?
God scares me sometimes.
My friend says, “If you have ever stood before God and were not scared, then you have never stood before God.”
That’s kind of how I feel right now — to approach Oz is kind of freaky, but it’s also good and a place of comfort and peace, no doubt a place of power — like a wall outlet we have to tap into this power source in order to live, really live. In my business, we call this faith, and without it we can’t please God (Hebrews 11:6).
I don’t know about you, but I want to do big things for this big God. Last time I checked apathy and complacency were not spiritual gifts. Rather, what I see in the Bible is people with courage, faith and boldness. People that kicked it and took names. I want to be one of those guys.
My friend from Katy always jokes that he got kicked out of school because of recess.
He says, “He don’t play.”
I guess that’s it — I don’t want to play church, be happy with one more service, one more sermon, one more quarter in the books. My metric for success in my Christianity is that water is turned into wine, the blind see, the lame walk and the dead come back to life.
That’s climbing the spiritual version of Mt. Everest and going to the spiritual version of the moon — that’s what I want to do because that’s what I see and read about in my Bible.
A hundred years ago, a group of people became known as “one-way” missionaries. They bought one-way tickets to the mission field, and instead of packing suitcases, they packed coffins. When they left port they didn’t wave so long; they waved good-bye to friends, family and their homes they weren’t coming back.
Mr. A. W. Milne was one of these missionaries. He went to an island in the South Pacific where head hunters lived. They had killed every missionary that had ever come to their island. Milne lived there for thirty-five years, and when he died, they wrote on his tombstone: When he came there was no light. When he left there was no darkness.
Come on, let’s start packing our coffins. I’m not sure where I’m headed, but I’m all in with God — it might be the moon, Mt. Everest or the South Pacific, but I’m going. May all of our lights shine in the darkness. He told me to tell you that.