I am a C. I am a Ch...I am a CHRISTIAN

Pondering, thinking, examining, changing. I've done a lot of reading online with postings and such and I've done a lot of self examination lately. I've come to the conclusion that even saying the words "I'm a Christian" so often times short-changes God. To even say the word...should bring recognition that thoughts and actions should pattern after Christ. It's not a title and it's not a religion. It's a way of life. To really begin to understand that, I find myself drawn to the four Gospels. Who is this Man? What was He like? How did He conduct Himself? How did He treat others? And what does He want to see in me? The man that I am learning to know is so much different than what I see in myself so many times. Different than what I see in so many who call themselves Christians. This man, this Christ, was gentle. This man was genuine. This man was humble and this man was kind. When He was rejected or faced disbelief... He questioned "Who do you believe I am?" and then He went about His Father's will. He didn't judge, He forgave...John 8:7--"But when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." Are we guilty of judging? Are we guilty of pointing fingers at someone who doesn't share our faith or respond to us in a way we like? I'm thinking that when I point at someone...anyone...there are three fingers pointing back at me. It's not often that my path crosses that of someone who doesn't believe. I just pray that when it does, I don't squander it away with a haughty attitude or a judgemental look...but that I will react and conduct myself in a way that someone might just see a glimpse of Christ in me. It's a process, painful at times, for God to get me in a position to where I'm on my knees with my mouth shut, silent and listening to the stillness of His voice.




I read something the other day that stuck with me.

"JUDGE NOT"

I was shocked, confused, bewildered
as I entered Heaven's door,
Not by the beauty of it all,
by the lights or its decor.
It was the folks in Heaven
who made me sputter and gasp--
the thieves, the liars, the sinners,
the alcoholics, the trash.
There stood the kid from seventh grade
who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor
who never said anything nice.
Herb, who I always thought
was rotting away in hell,
was sitting pretty on cloud nine,
looking incredibly well.
I nudged Jesus, "What's the deal?
I would love to hear Your take.
How'd all these sinners get up here?
God must've made a mistake.
And why's everyone so quiet,
so somber? Give me a clue."
"Hush, child," said He. "They're all in shock...

No one thought they'd see you."

"Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future"