Bill Hobbs is one of my heroes. He's one of those guys that just being around inspires me to do more to be the hands of Jesus to my neighbors. Bill is a living example of that old saying -- "Only one life, 'twill soon be past, Only what's done for Christ will last." I just finished reading My Longest Drive, the story of how God led Hobbs from a self-centered career-driven life as a successful golf pro to the founder of Urban Youth Impact, a model of holistic urban ministry. I've heard parts of Bill's testimony before, but it was still amazing to read about his journey from the country club circuit to pouring his life out in neighborhoods that most people avoid. Bill is still driven, but he's now driven to share the love of Jesus with the widows and fatherless of West Palm Beach. One of the things I've heard him say, and which he repeats in the book, is a truth that seems so elementary yet's so easy to forget. A truth that enabled this white guy from the suburbs to win the trust of folks not normally disposed to trust someone like him.
Even though our skin had less pigment than the majority of kids to whom we ministered, we quickly learned that we could still be agents of God's healing and reconciliation. We learned that people didn't care how much we knew until they knew how much we cared. [emphasis mine] Once they knew we cared, we could bring what we knew about the love of Christ into their battered young lives. What's more, we found that this love had the capacity and ability to overflow into the families and neighbors of each young person. (p. 35)
There it is. It might take years of sowing the seeds of caring, as it did in Bill's case (you can read about it in the book), but unless we show we care our message is going to fall on deaf ears. Can't we say this is rule number one in apologetics and evangelism too? If the person I'm trying to convince isn't able to sense that I care for him/her -- or worse yet, he senses I don't even like him -- he's not going to listen to what I have to say no matter how firmly the truth is on my side. This is true whether I'm engaging with an angry kid in the hood, the neopagan in a liberal college town, or that demonstrator carrying a sign for a cause I find morally repugnant. Can I find it in my heart to genuinely care for that person despite our differences? Or better yet for those of us who claim to be followers of the one who died to turn enemies into friends -- have our hearts been transformed by the gospel to such an extent that we're able to genuinely care for that person? Can we envision them as fellow worshipers dining with us around the table of Jesus? If not, I'm afraid our message and mission will fail.
1 comment:
Good, convicting. To prayer.
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