Even to the End of the Age

amazon [obvi]

Instead of mindlessly browsing the InterWebs for a couple more hours last night, I decided to actually pick up this book I've been reading. It's the true story of a middle-aged Muslim woman who begins interacting with the living God.

As God begins calling her, she begins desperately seeking Truth, scouring both the Quran and the Bible for the true God. As He reveals Himself to her in undeniable [amazing] ways, she realizes she must choose whether or not to serve the God who is calling her. But in a culture that values tradition and "the faith," she faces certain ostracism, the loss of custody of her grandson [as she would be deemed an unfit guardian upon her conversion to Christianity], and potential death [apostasy].

But, with a genuinely divine understanding of the Scripture, she realizes that this relationship with the LORD is more important than these costs. Thus blossoms a desperately beautiful relationship. Her fervent worship and thirst for His Word and His presence are so...genuine. And I found myself becoming strangely jealous of this woman - of her desire to learn and serve Him and, as she phrases it, stay within His Glory.

You see, at least to the rest of America, becoming a Christian is no big deal. We have no idea how revolutionary it is to call the Creator of the Universe FATHER. Do you realize, in the Islamic culture, that bringing God to our level in that way is absolutely absurd? It's unheard of! I remember having a discussion with a Muslim friend, and when I referred to God as my Father, he looked at me, stopped walking, and said, "We would never refer to Allah as our father." And I imagine the disciples were equally as shocked when Jesus taught them to pray by opening, "Our Father..."

In our accepting and lukewarm culture, we've lost the novelty, the gift of this relationship. And I sat there, jealous of this woman's desperation, and jealous that I am not nearly as thirsty for His presence or as sensitive to the Spirit. How I long to be so aware of His Presence and as heartbroken when I grieve Him!

And I want my Christianity to mean more. As immature as this sounds, I want my spiritual battles to be bigger. I want to fight more than just ennui to strengthen my faith and pursue the LORD.

And then the LORD brought this verse to mind:

"He who is faithful in a very little thing is faithful also in much." 

- Luke 16:10

I am like a little kid begging his dad to send him to battle, yet I don't even know how to wield a sword. And this verse brought me such peace. Maybe one day I'll fight larger, more glamorous battles, but first, I need to fight the battles before me well, small though they may seem. Read my Bible without fail [seek ye first the Kingdom], treat my obnoxious siblings with respect, practice patience and humility, though I wish some things were different right now.

But I couldn't help wishing that I still felt God's presence as vibrantly and strongly as the Bilquis Sheikh. And as I sat there wondering why God chose to reach her in one way, in a way I longed for, suddenly He was there. More there than I can describe. 

Tears just began flowing freely. I wish I could say I don't cry very often, but that would be a colossal lie. I can honestly tell you, however, that I resist crying with all my might - I'm not a huge fan of tears. 

 Some of these tears were tears of sadness, and some of frustration, as my summer has not gone according to plan. But most of them were just...inexplicable. I think they were a result of being so overwhelmed. I was surrounded by Him: Jesus beside me, the Spirit within me, the Father around me.

And as I lay in bed, I began begging God to never leave me, with the same earnestness as Bilquis had. I fell asleep last night with the following verse running again and again through my head:

And lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.

-Matthew 28:20