And what do I mean by that? Do you remember last year, Christmas time, when a human stampede on black friday literally killed someone in a Wal-mart? That's what I mean, but I don't mean that every so often I can look back to my tracks and see a physically mutilated body. No. What I mean is that; do I care about people? And I don't mean soft care, or surface care, or just care what they think about me. If they think I care for them. I mean; do I CARE? Do you know what the Thesaurus says about caring?
CARING:
see SORROW
Related words:
strain, stress, tension. a burdened of disquieted state of mind.
anxiety, concern, concernment, disquiet, disquietude, unease, uneaseiness, worry.
Now, get these contrasted words:
CONTRASTED: calm, ease, comfort
Matthew 9:35-38
Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field."
Luke 19:41-45
As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, "If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God's coming to you."
Was Jesus ever compelled by...obligation? What? How could that even be? Jesus was broken, even literally, for us.
Why do I let myself be controlled by legalistic obligation?
When will I allow God to break me so much that I throw away my excuses and let compassion drive me, the way Jesus was driven?
I need to get tired and sick of my 'relgion game', of putting on a show and really get honest with people. I need to throw away any act I could shove down people's throats, and really ask, WHO is worth it? If God is real, then what does HE have to say? Who is He?
Do I see how God sees these people? Does my heart break with other people's hurts? Do I CARE? Am I so self-absorbed that I won't even let God's light shine and reveal what goes on in my mind?
Why do I not see apathy for what it is; literally stomping all over people, when will I HATE apathy towards God and people so much I can only cry out to God to change my heart and mind and eyes?
BREAK MY HEART FOR WHAT BREAKS YOURS. (Brooke Fraser)
Give me Your eyes to see everything I've been missing,
give me Your love for humanity,
give me Your eyes so I can see...
I've been here a thousand times...
I swear I never thought that I was wrong,
I want a second glance, give me a second chance,
to see the way You've seen the people all along.
TO SEE THE WAY YOU'VE SEEN THE PEOPLE ALL ALONG.
(Brandon Heath)
Apathetic: how do I see you?
What does it take this time?
Sitting, knees against
a hard wood table, foot slapped against
rough chair fabric.
Sometimes the width of empty rooms
the mass of silence between voices,
and sometimes the cup of my hand,
brings me
to this time,
look around, like scales falling from
my eyes.
Sometimes it is the pool in the cup of my hand.
What does it take this time?
Empty eyes.
The crumbling inside my rib cage---
Maybe I, weak-eyed,
saw weakness, a weakness I could never know.
Maybe I need to protect you
or desire to protect you, a small diamond
I must continually swallow.
because I know I can’t
be the constant. I can’t
anchor my soul, can’t anchor your soul,
cannot wrap you in a grip, pull your sleeves up,
So scars like embroidery---
What did it take?
Maybe if I saw you
from a bridge, a tall tower,
curly tree branches, hanging
on the very edge, maybe if God
will bash my silly wall encasing,
lift me from that strained
position, chained to a train track,
if He could scoop me in His own hand,
and I could be enamored by His view.
Nothing is hideous
there, but what I see
bursts me open, metamorphic,
like a thousand pieces of glass, blood
like tears, and what I see, the need
I see, the hearts like blue leaves in winter,
enslaved bodies, words like stones
huddled around, feeling each other, being scratched unaware,
blue faces and pretty jars slashed apart,
dark screaming
louder.
What did it take this time?
All the scenes I see are in black and white.
The sound drips away like sweat.
Only His light, a thousand golden showers.
Only His blood, red shooting across the sky.
Only His love, a purple robe.
Bursts you open, metamorphic.
Nightlights
(Jimmy Needham)
Be Thou exalted over my reputation, 'Cause applause is a poor form of soul medication.
And I've tried it for years, but my symptoms remain:
Still fretting the day that they'll misplace my name,
Still selling my soul for American fame.
Treating the promotion of Jesus like a well oiled machine,
Advancing His kingdom just to snag some acclaim. Now, I'm both comforted and haunted that it isn't just me though.
I see a nation of people needing to feed their own egos,
Parading status like steeples.
Do we not know it's evil to love ourselves more than both God and His people?
But see, here's where you turn this poem on it's head,
'Cause the greatest among us came as servant instead,
And You humbled Yourself to the point of Your death.
Apparently love for the Father's glory runs red.
So friends, will we point to the Son till our own flames grow dim?
Will our bright lights become merely night-lights near Him?
Words echo once, let them echo again:
Be Thou exalted over my reputation.
