the real deal

by allan

"If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing." - Paul

It’s a warm Saturday afternoon here in South Africa and I feel strangely content. Two of our team members (Will and Bex) have taken their business class out on a field trip to Operation Mobilization. Nate is at the church helping volunteers write and run the churches own newsletter.
It seems we have found a rhythm and a place in the church and community. We have good friends with whom we serve and hang out with. We drive down the streets of Mamelodi and people we recognize wave and smile at us. We go house to house and it’s comfortable and no longer strange and new. Conversations go beyond the surface level and people don’t ask us so much about life in America but more just about life; the real stuff. We talk about lessons learned and past mistakes. We talk about common things and about hopes for the future.
It's good.

Yet in all this there is a temptation to slip into mediocre relationships and dutiful ministry. Even here on the “mission field” there is a danger of letting the days slip by without being present, or more sadly, resisting His presence. It seems like it could be easy to slip into nice-christian-cruise-control and say the right thing, smile at the right time with the right Christianese response…, but people can smell fake a mile away.
Our house is reading through the Gospel of Matthew in our group devotions. Jesus always seems “to be on.” Always responding genuinely, feeling deeply and caring sincerely. He is led by the Holy Spirit, compelled by an incredibly deep compassion and love for the people, even to the point of death.
As we teach classes, visit the sick, play with kids, and do life here in Africa, we want to be the real deal. It's so hard. Though we grow tired and weak, pray that our love be sincere, our relationships genuine, and our dependence on Him, daily.

Last Words
"It’s not the stretch of a mans life that matters. It’s the depth of life. It’s not how long we live. It’s how we live."
– Leonard Ravenhill at age 83