Friday, December 7, 2012

They're Waiting for You

Dear _______,

He's watching your every step. Every time he sees you, he waits to mimic your success so he can be victorious as well. To him, every word of yours might as well be liquid gold. He waits for you to one day acknowledge him, and give him the love that he needs.

Only, he can't, because those two things you call your legs are no longer working. You're crippled. He will never have the opportunity to see your success, because your road to progress has been a downward slope. That gold coming out of your mouth might as well be sewage, and you won't even be able to acknowledge him, because you've never even met him.


We're talking about the little boy that you may or may not have an impact on in the future. You don't know each other yet, but when you meet him, will you be in a place to change his life?

Because as it stands now, you've been wallowing in sin, and it's destroying your testimony.

How will you teach him to be humble when your ultimate desire is to build your own legacy? How will you teach him to flee from lust when your eyes are peeled to every skirt that walks past you? How will you teach him to love others when the slightest of offenses creates in you an anger rivaled only by The Hulk? How will you teach him to use his time wisely when you spend hours on only the most supremely banal of pursuits?


Will you sacrifice this boy's victory for this momentary pleasure? Will you throw away the opportunity to point him past your glass cage to the God who lives inside? To show him that satisfaction rests outside of anything he's ever known?

That window of time is growing smaller. Your moments of pleasure are making your time shorter than an overused pencil. And the more of it you spend drowning in sin is the same amount of time you could be using to save someone else lost at sea.

"Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God." (2 Cor. 5)

So, are you going to strap on a life jacket, or will you continue to drown? Remember, he's waiting.



This letter is addressed to me.


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