Mammon or Mission ?

What do I work for?

I went to bed last night with this nagging question in my mind. Cognitively I knew the correct answer - surely it must be the mission that God placed in my heart - Missio Dei. But when the reality and crunch came, I found myself standing before the imaginary monetary scales - fixated, enthralled, anxious.

I tossed and turned in bed - thinking that it must have been the overdose of caffeine that was causing my mind to race at that unearthly hour. It was only upon realising the true intent of the question that was weighing upon my mind and heart that I stood still before the scale, and overturned it. There can be no comparison.

The mission is paramount. The mammon is secondary.

Missio Dei.

With that, I slipped instantly into a peaceful sleep.

Pointe

Just so I remember who is greater than my giants

Can I be trusted?

Sometimes the Lord brings us to uncomfortable situations to remind us of our own shortcomings. In gentle yet startling ways, He challenges our prejudices and exposes our hypocrisy. It was at a recent missions conference (yes, missions) that I discovered a huge log in my eye - one that smarted immediately upon my own discovery of its presence. Before that I was comfortable with the myopia and blurred vision.

He was an "odd-ball" - to put it simply. "Crashing" into the seminar room, he was abrasive and loud. The discomfort within the room of 'mission-minded' people was immediate and entirely palpable. Strangely enough, I was drawn to him - and decided to chat him up during the break.

What began as a weak attempt to be brotherly developed into an uncomfortable exercise of drilling into the deepest recesses of my heart. He was certainly not the easiest person to talk to - his mannerisms and propensity of invading into my personal physical space (a city-dweller, I was more comfortable with a respectable distance between faces during conversations, and had to stop myself from retreating everytime he advanced into my comfort zone); his loud and abrasive speech (as a medical person, I desperately rationalised that it was because of his hearing problem that he was shouting into my face); his stark and unabashed requests (I had to pull his bag for him, buy drinks for him during dinner) - all these clashed immediately with the 'properness' of behaviour and etiquette that I was more accustomed to.

Was he a consummate confabulator ? - the 'psychologist' within me asked. Or was he delusional ?
Or was he genuinely deaf and handicapped ? - the 'doctor' within me attempted to diagnose.

Could his stories be trusted? Could he be trusted?

Then the painful whisper came crashing down on me.

"Can I trust you with someone like him? Can I entrust someone like him to your care?"

The fact is - they don't come white-washed and sanitised. Didn't Paul admonish in Ephesians 2 to remember our former estate from where we were saved? As much as we never came to Him sanitised first, we are still in the process of being sanctified. Can a building under construction judge the scaffolding found on another cathedral?

I fear the day a hospital turns away the sick because they are sick.

Can I be trusted?

Shepherd, lead me

And I know that God is leading

In a clear and certain way

My one life for Your purpose, Jesus

I offer up this day

To follow You completely

To do all that You say

Cleanse my life, fill me up

And use me this day

Make a certain breakthrough

Make it today

- Ann Chan -