I grew up in the city. We walked on concrete roads and sidewalks, pulled in on a concrete driveway, and parked on a concrete carport. When we swept and vacuumed the floors we only had to do it once or twice a week and hardly accumulated more than a tablespoon of sand (we're in Florida, remember) in the dustpan each time, and only had to change vacuum cleaner bags a couple times a year.
But I have lived most of my married life in the country. For half that time we had no driveway or carport. Now we have a carport, but still no driveway. We do a considerable amount of living and working outdoors, taking care of a large garden and five acres. Our road is nearly a half mile long, private, and unpaved. When Keith walks that half mile to the mailbox down by the highway, he treads on dirt, sand, and limerock, not a sidewalk. Even though we have a mat by the door and a runner just inside it, we still track a considerable amount into the house. I could sweep every day but don't have the time. Even every other day will yield twice as much as a week's worth when I lived in the city. Every time I hear that passage, "Shake the dust off your feet," I wish we could do it just that easily.
The inescapable conclusion is that living on concrete will keep more of the dirt out of your house. Too many Christians, and churches, want to keep the dirt out, to live on concrete spiritually. I am not talking about keeping sin out of our lives. I am talking about being such a clean freak that the only people we want to offer the gospel to are nice nuclear families with no marriage problems, no addictions, and no ongoing issues that might "cause problems." Many years ago I caught myself saying, "I should invite them to church. But wait, they are in second and third marriages. That's just asking for trouble." I don't remember how long it took for me to remember a certain woman at a well in Samaria whom Jesus went out of his way to speak to and offer a chance at salvation. She had one whale of a marriage issue, but Jesus didn't stay on the concrete.
Long ago and far away a men's business meeting actually told Keith he was bringing "the wrong class of people" to church. Never mind that he was the only one bringing people from the community. What he had found out in his door knocking was that those were the people more likely to listen—the ones who had problems and didn't think they were just fine and dandy. It was in one of those nice upper middle class neighborhoods where those brothers wanted him to pass out invitations that the man outside watering his well-manicured flowerbeds turned his hose on Keith, his Bible, and all his fliers.
Who listened to Jesus? Few of the middle class Pharisees and upper class Sadducees. Usually it was the blue collar workers and those in less than reputable occupations—fishermen, harlots, and publicans. If we want to reach people, we need to step off the concrete and walk around in the mud where they live like he did. We need to be willing to track in a little sand and then sweep it up. Yes, it's a lot more work dealing with those kinds of people, but that is what our lives are supposed to be about—sharing the good news and helping the babes grow. You offer the gospel to everyone. It is their decision whether they are devoted enough to the Lord to clean up their lives, not ours.
Don't be satisfied with living on concrete—going about your life with your family, going to church on Sunday, and staying away from the big bad sins as we define them, while ignoring the opportunities to reach out that God sends your way. You might stay out of the dirt, but there will still be sand in your house—and it all came from you.
And it came to pass, that he was sitting at meat in his house, and many publicans and sinners sat down with Jesus and his disciples: for there were many, and they followed him. And the scribes of the Pharisees, when they saw that he was eating with the sinners and publicans, said unto his disciples, How is it that he eats and drinks with publicans and sinners? And when Jesus heard it, he said unto them, They that are whole have no need of a physician, but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners (Mark 2:15-17).
Dene Ward
But I have lived most of my married life in the country. For half that time we had no driveway or carport. Now we have a carport, but still no driveway. We do a considerable amount of living and working outdoors, taking care of a large garden and five acres. Our road is nearly a half mile long, private, and unpaved. When Keith walks that half mile to the mailbox down by the highway, he treads on dirt, sand, and limerock, not a sidewalk. Even though we have a mat by the door and a runner just inside it, we still track a considerable amount into the house. I could sweep every day but don't have the time. Even every other day will yield twice as much as a week's worth when I lived in the city. Every time I hear that passage, "Shake the dust off your feet," I wish we could do it just that easily.
The inescapable conclusion is that living on concrete will keep more of the dirt out of your house. Too many Christians, and churches, want to keep the dirt out, to live on concrete spiritually. I am not talking about keeping sin out of our lives. I am talking about being such a clean freak that the only people we want to offer the gospel to are nice nuclear families with no marriage problems, no addictions, and no ongoing issues that might "cause problems." Many years ago I caught myself saying, "I should invite them to church. But wait, they are in second and third marriages. That's just asking for trouble." I don't remember how long it took for me to remember a certain woman at a well in Samaria whom Jesus went out of his way to speak to and offer a chance at salvation. She had one whale of a marriage issue, but Jesus didn't stay on the concrete.
Long ago and far away a men's business meeting actually told Keith he was bringing "the wrong class of people" to church. Never mind that he was the only one bringing people from the community. What he had found out in his door knocking was that those were the people more likely to listen—the ones who had problems and didn't think they were just fine and dandy. It was in one of those nice upper middle class neighborhoods where those brothers wanted him to pass out invitations that the man outside watering his well-manicured flowerbeds turned his hose on Keith, his Bible, and all his fliers.
Who listened to Jesus? Few of the middle class Pharisees and upper class Sadducees. Usually it was the blue collar workers and those in less than reputable occupations—fishermen, harlots, and publicans. If we want to reach people, we need to step off the concrete and walk around in the mud where they live like he did. We need to be willing to track in a little sand and then sweep it up. Yes, it's a lot more work dealing with those kinds of people, but that is what our lives are supposed to be about—sharing the good news and helping the babes grow. You offer the gospel to everyone. It is their decision whether they are devoted enough to the Lord to clean up their lives, not ours.
Don't be satisfied with living on concrete—going about your life with your family, going to church on Sunday, and staying away from the big bad sins as we define them, while ignoring the opportunities to reach out that God sends your way. You might stay out of the dirt, but there will still be sand in your house—and it all came from you.
And it came to pass, that he was sitting at meat in his house, and many publicans and sinners sat down with Jesus and his disciples: for there were many, and they followed him. And the scribes of the Pharisees, when they saw that he was eating with the sinners and publicans, said unto his disciples, How is it that he eats and drinks with publicans and sinners? And when Jesus heard it, he said unto them, They that are whole have no need of a physician, but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners (Mark 2:15-17).
Dene Ward