On my recent trip to the Middle East, when crossing into Jordan at the Israeli border, we had to go through passport control and have our things searched for contraband. I’m not exactly sure what the boarder guard with the very big guns (when I write “very big guns” this is not an euphemism for big arm muscles, but an actual machine gun that the officer was carrying,) anyway, I’m not sure what the machine gun wielding men were looking for—but like at an airport security check point, we sent our things through an x-ray machine. The men with big guns also asked if we had any cell phones. Never wanting to upset someone with a machine gun, I quickly handed over my LG Sprint phone.
There are a few things you need to know about my cell phone. I got this phone shortly after arriving in the Sunflower State. I must admit that my phone is the free phone I received when I signed up with Sprint. By today’s standards, it is a bit bulky. Moreover, in the last two plus years, I have dropped it approximately 4,327 times. So it’s also a bit beat up. The black paint on the face of the phone is beginning to come off. So much so, that the “S” and “P” of “Sprint” are no longer visible. One could easily assume from reading the front of my phone that my cell phone provider is “rint” instead of “Sprint.” Get the picture? It’s not a pretty phone, but the man with the big gun wanted to see it.
Why did he want to see it? I don’t know. But I do know this, when a man with a big gun and a frown on his face says, “Cell phone!” in broken English your best response is to quickly hand over your “rint” cell phone, which is exactly what I did.
The look that the man with the big gun gave me when he took my phone was one of disturbance and disgust. Maybe he thought that an American traveling into Jordan should have a nicer, slimmer, more up-to-date phone. Maybe he was in a foul mood and didn’t like my even fouler (is “fouler” a word?), smelly green shirt that I had been wearing for the last three days since my luggage was in Zaire or someplace. Maybe “rint” in Arabic means “may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits.” In any event, he was not happy. Not happy with my phone. Not happy with me.
He looked it all over. He opened the back of my phone to see what kind of battery and SIM card was in there. Whatever they found or didn’t find must have been acceptable because, eventually, the men with the big guns decided that we were not spies, terrorists or Amway salesmen and let us enter their country even though I was carrying my big, bulky, beat up cell phone.
But it got me thinking. Our boarder guard was not happy over a small thing—(well, as stated my cell phone is a big thing in comparison to other cell phones, but you know what I mean). But what if he was concerned about something much more important-- like my faith not my phone?
What would you do if you lived in a culture where 95% of the population thought that your belief system was flat wrong? What would you do if 95% of the population believed that you were a heretic and could be driven to violence to keep you from practicing your faith? What would you do if handing out a free Bible would land you in an interrogation room in the office of the secret police? What would you do if the brother of one of the world’s most notorious terrorists lived a stone’s throw from your church?
You see I met folks in those very situations. And if that were us… would we still sing and praise the Lord? Would we still believe? Would we risk relationships and wealth and health to follow Jesus?
This past Sunday night, I concluded the Sunday night series of messages from the Seven Churches of Revelation by looking at the last church, the church at Laodicea. You will recall that Jesus has some pretty harsh words for the Laodicean church. He says that they sicken him. They made him want to puke! Jesus never says to the Pharisees that their actions make him want to barf or to the people that beat him and crucified him. So why such harsh words for these church folks? They were lukewarm. They were rich and satisfied and fat and happy and doing absolutely nothing for him. The really sad thing is that they thought they had it all together when in fact, Jesus says to them: You say, 'I am rich. I have everything I want. I don't need a thing!' And you don't realize that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked. (Revelation 3:17-18)
How I pray that Jesus would not say these words to us. The truth of the matter is that compared to many places in our world, we have it so very easy. I am sure that most of the people whom I met in the Middle East (people who earn around $300 a month, by the way) would say that we are rich. We aren’t threatened when we admit to being Christians. We have a roof over our heads and food on our tables. Unlike many of the believers in the Middle East where following Christ is a decision to be a target for mistrust and harsh treatment—we never deal with such things. And I suppose we could easily say what Jesus said the Laodiceans were saying, “I have everything I want. I don’t need a thing.” But with such ease comes a tendency to fall into a spiritual lull and lukewarm ness. We need to fight against such attitudes and behaviors. We need to determine to live for God; to be the people he calls us to be; to never waver in our love; to never meander into mediocrity; and, to always desire His best for our lives.
In fact, I pray that when the “boarder crossing guard of Heaven” (Is there such a person? Probably not.) examines our lives, he or she will see people who constantly and consistently lived for God. We can be thankful we don’t face the pressures of living for Jesus in a hostile place, but in our relative ease of Johnson County let us never settle into a lukewarm, meaningless religion.
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