I am in the trenches. Head down, keyboard constantly before me. I am finishing this book, y’all. So I’m borrowing old posts to make sure we stay friends while I disappear from this blog for a little while longer.
On Mr and I’s honeymoon to the Magic Kingdom, we discovered that the park adjacent to the cartoon wonderland had a vineyard and that said vineyard sold wine.
For two newly married adults that were stressed to the max after their wedding and now Disneying it up with a gazillion people (and their kids) during fourth of July weekend…let’s just say we hopped on that like white on rice.
Or brown on rice. Whatever your dietary pleasure happens to be.
So we were walking along the magical streets sipping wine out of our tiny plastic glasses, enjoying the moment when we heard thundering –seriously, thundering– steps run up behind us.
Mr is a cop. I like to remember that he threw out a kung-fu move to protect his bride.
Even though he didn’t. Whatever floats your imagery fancy, insert that here.
So this crazed man thunders up to us, bends over to clutch his knees, and through gasping breaths he asks, “Where did you get that?!”
We eye-balled the man, now grasping his side in pain, glanced wide-eyed and each other and basically just stared at him awkwardly while he gasped and winced and basically had a coronary in our newlywed presence.
“That!” He gasped, jabbing a finger toward my wine glass(or should I call it ‘plass’ since it was plastic?).
I took a step back and covered my plass protectively while Mr. pointed in the direction of the vineyard.
With renewed energy and purpose the man shouted a “thank you!” turned, and hightailed it back toward the vineyard. We saw him strolling along later, sipping his wine with a brood of children fussing all around him. Too much magic for that man, apparently.
I don’t tell this story to promote drinking or even to broach the subject.
I tell the story because lately I’ve been thinking about how prideful it can be when we point someone to Christ. Not save them. But point them to Christ.
We are so proud of ourselves, aren’t we? As if we did the saving.
Maybe it’s just me.
Jesus commanded his disciples and, by extension, us to make disciples of the nations. To preach Christ. We are to be ready to give an answer for our hope.
Sometimes, that feels like a list we can check off for the day.
Inserted belief in God in conversation with grocery store clerk -Check.
And sometimes telling someone about the Lord can unwittingly turn into a sales pitch.
When that man ran to us, imploring that we tell him where that sweet wine could be found, we pointed, and he ran to it. Simple. Done and done.
We pointed. We didn’t need to sell him the wine, we only needed to be caught living with it and point the way when he wanted some.
This isn’t a perfect analogy nor is it entirely theological. But think about it. You’re in Galilee during the time that Jesus walked among us. God with us. In the flesh. You have seen Him. You know Him. You follow Him. You have a relationship with Him. Others recognize this and when they see you walking along the way, knowing that you have been with Jesus, they shout, “Where is He?! Where can I find Him?!”
All you have to do is point. All you can do is point.
Because it’s not about you or me. That Disney man didn’t care as much about us as he cared about what he needed.
I think we are tempted to take credit. To stand in the way a bit, wanting to be more involved than necessary. Are we standing on the road with a desperate person gasping in front of us, “Where is HE?!” craning their neck to see around us while we jabber on about spiritual things, that are important, but unnecessary when,
All. They. Want. Is. Him?
Let’s just point. Let’s live in such a way that they will know we have a relationship with Him and when they ask, “Where is He?” we can be ready to point. “That way.”
And step aside.
I don’t think it needs to be any more complicated than that.