Heartache

Today, I am aching deep. If you have read this blog for any time at all (and I know I haven't been doing it that long), you know that I have a heart to see lost people come to know Christ in a real and personal way. That hasn't changed.

Today is one of my mentor's birthday. He was a professor of mine at school and he is currently out of the country, working in a harvest field, seeing many people come to Jesus. On his birthday, I recall the several times in class when he would read Matthew 9:36-38. Let me try to write the way my friend and professor spoke this passage.

Seeing the people, He felt compassion for them, ... {At this point, my friend's voice would catch and he would suck in his next breath through clenched teeth as he tried to control his emotions}

because they were distressed ... {As he uttered the word "distressed" his voice would rise in both pitch and volume as he tried to talk through the sob. Then he would pause long enough to regain some sense of composure}

and dispirited like sheep without a shepherd. ... {Again, his voice would crack. He would read these words quickly, trying to actually pronounce the words before the sobs choked out his voice again. After which, he would again pause.}

Then He said to His disciples, "The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.... {I took 3 different classes with this professor and he read this passage at least once in each class. 2 of the 3 times I heard him reading it, he audibly sobbed on the word few. Then, he would once again fight to control his emotions before continuing.}

Therefore beseech the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into His harvest."... {At this point, he would look up from his Bible and look each of us in the classroom square in the eye and say, "We ARE those workers!"}

I grew up in church work. My dad is a pastor. And while I don't hold anything against all those wonderful, Godly people that were part of my upbringing, it wasn't until I was 35 years old and sitting in a classroom that I actually got a glimpse of the plight of the lost in our world. I remember sitting and hearing that passion from my friend and asking God if I could have just a small measure of passion for the lost like I saw in that man.

My friends, God is faithful. He answered my prayer and it was a horrible answer. On this day, I am heavy-hearted and aching because I have just begun to see the level of lostness all around me. I am moved to tears even as I type this entry when I think that there are people dying that I don't know if they ever heard the Good News of Jesus Christ. I don't know if my professor, mentor, friend will ever read these words, nor do I know if he has even an inkling of the impact he had on my life. But I do know this, if the lost don't move us to tears, we will never be motivated to bring them the Good News.

Thank you, heavenly Father, for Dr. Rogers and Your passion burned in my heart.