I went to the library earlier this afternoon to write a
paper, and instead ended up praying and dwelling on Scripture (common occurrence)—but so is reading other blogs, blogging, pinteresting, excessively writing in my planner, and
making lists. Type A, I know.
I was sitting at a table by myself in a small common
area. There was minimal chatter
and lots of goose bumps. Our library is freezing.
A group of students convened to work on a group project at a
larger table to my forefront; one student was blind and had a guide dog
accompanying him.
Once about half an hour passed, I finally collected myself
after shedding several tears over God’s heart for a group of people I love—I’m accustomed to crying in public; I do it
so often it’s hardly embarrassing anymore.
The group disassembled and the student who was blind stood
up and began to leave the table.
The walkway was short before he had to turn right to descend the stairs
and exit the library. However, as
he made his way down the walkway, his guide dog didn’t make him turn right, and
the student walked directly into another student who was working at another
table. The collision was audible
and my heart broke for the blind student’s embarrassment.
The student quickly found his way around the corner, down
the stairs, and practically ran out of the double doors—only heightening the
number of eyes on him.
Since I had been crying only a couple of minutes beforehand,
I proceeded to march myself to the bathroom, as I was a basket case. I wanted to glare at every person that
was staring at the student, as if that would alleviate his humiliation and make
me feel better. I’m glad that I
didn’t. I’m half as bold as I think
myself to be—even if it’s about chastisement.
Here comes the
analogy…
Does my heart break for spiritually blind people? Do I weep at the sight of a person who
does not know and love Jesus Christ as Lord? Am I filled with sorrow when I see a nonbeliever “collide”
with their sin and disappointments and their lack of a God to seek for security
and atonement?
The funny thing is, I was dwelling on Psalm 126 when I was
praying a few moments before the incident (and had even shared it with a friend
this morning!).
“When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who
dream. Then our mouth was filled
with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the
nations, ‘The Lord has done great things for them.’ The Lord has done great things for us; we are glad. Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like
streams in the Negeb! Those who
sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall
come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him” (v. 1-6, ESV).
Jesus has graciously granted me undeserved salvation, so I
am joyful and glad and tell others that “The
Lord has done great things” for me.
But I also go “out weeping”
because others do not know Jesus, and I bear “the seed for sowing.”
Because I know of God’s goodness to me displayed on the Cross, where He
stood in my place and paid my punishment for my sin, there is a internal,
produced desire to share the Gospel with people who do not know/believe it.
I don’t just want people to know about Jesus—I want them to
experience the joy of being freely forgiven.
The Psalm concludes with the coolest assurance—those who
desire and labor for the salvation of nonbelievers “shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.” If my heart is joyful at Jesus’
sacrifice on my behalf and breaking for people who do not believe the Truth of
His message, He is faithful to use me in the salvation of others.
