Heads Bowed, Eyes Closed

Today our sweet school principal Mrs. Nichols took me out for a birthday lunch. I can't begin to tell you how much I love and respect this woman. She's not only one of the godliest people I've ever known but she's also hysterically funny. And her compassion knows no bounds.

Today as we were chatting away about different things, church & school, family & friends, she asked me for the latest news on the Africa trip. It so happens that one of my friends on the trip, Tabby, is also a very involved parent at our school.

While she was familiar with the work they are doing, she wasn't aware of Amazima or Katie's blog so of course, I had to fill her in.

I made a feeble attempt to convey Katie's story and tell her about the amazing work God is doing through her servant's heart. I told her about her beautiful daughters and all the children she feeds and sends to school. And I told her about the Karamajong tribe.

I explained that the mission group was scheduled to help in feeding the Karamajong's and we talked about what an experience that must have been.

I explained how convicted I've felt reading Katie's words about our country's self-reliance and how there is no real urgency for American Christians to trust Him for anything. That's when she told me a story I'll probably never forget.

She has friends who served as missionaries in a part of Africa for 8 years before they came home to America on furlough. They made plans to speak at churches and raise money so they could return to Africa and continue their work. The first church they spoke at was a rather large congregation, probably alot like my church.

Her friends said that after they spoke about their experiences on the mission field the pastor of the church came to close the service with an altar call. No doubt, the congregation was moved by what they had heard and hearts were probably ripe to receive the gospel, so he did what most pastor's have done a thousand times. He instructed the congregation to bow their heads and close their eyes. He assured them that if they raised their hand to confess they had received Christ that night that no one would be looking around. No one would see.

The missionaries left that church brokenhearted and depressed.

They explained that in parts of Africa, when the gospel is presented and people receive they are also asked to raise their hands, but not in secret. It is done with boldness. And as they raise one hand, they place the other hand over their throat. Because they know that such a public confession of Christ will probably mean their head will be chopped off.

And still they confess Him.

I was so convicted and moved by her story. I had it on my mind all day. First I said shame on America's spoiled brand of Christianity. But when it comes right down to it, the shame is on me for not being willing to confess Him everyday. With my hand. With my mouth. With my life. If I do, what's the worst that would happen? I dare say nobody's coming after me with a machete.

I thinks it's time for American Christians to hold our heads up high and open our eyes. Christ is nothing to be ashamed of and we shouldn't be giving anybody the impression that He is.