Ten Were Bad and Two Were Good

I was sitting in the old Westside Chapel on the East Point campus of Point University when I heard words that have haunted me since they were uttered. It was an informal presentation followed by Q&A, not a regular chapel service. The speakers, whose names I won’t use and whose place of ministry I won’t identify, are serving God in a very difficult part of the world. Its difficulty is born out of a combination of religion, politics, and an anti-western spirit that when combined, create challenges for people like my friends who were speaking.

Here’s what they said: “Don’t pray for our safety. Pray for our courage.” The whole time I had been listening to them I had been thinking about how unsafe it must be to live there, much less be a witness to Christ in that part of the world. I was wondering what it would be like to daily face the reality of a call from God to ministry in a place like the place to which they sense a call to be witnesses for Christ. And they have been doing that for nearly their entire adult, married life.

Courage over safety. Could this be what Paul had in mind when he said, “It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be put to shame in any way, but that by my speaking with all boldness, Christ will be exalted now as always in my body, whether by life or by death”? (Philippians 1:20) He is writing those words from a Roman jail. My friends aren’t in jail, but they do live and serve in a place where it can be risky to be a follower of Jesus. They want me to pray that they will have courage “to speak with all boldness” about the Jesus who redeemed them and called them to mission.

After reviewing a litany of people who “by faith” served God, the writer of Hebrews reminds his readers of the vast “unnamed” people of faith “of whom the world was not worthy” (11:38) who nevertheless courageously served God. He reminds them “Consider him who endured such hostility against himself from sinners, so that you may not grow weary or lose heart.” (12:3) That sounds an awful lot like allowing courage to trump safety.

How many times have I sung that old fashioned camp song: “Twelve men went to spy in Canaan; ten were bad and two were good”? Ten preferred safety, two preferred courage. (Numbers 13, 14) The simple fact that Joshua and Caleb – “two were good” – made it to the land God had promised Israel would make one think He prefers that we seek after courage more than safety.

Courage and stupidity, of course, are not the same things. Courage – at least from a faith point of view – has to do with sensing direction from God, trusting God, and moving forward. Blindly moving forward as a bull in a china shop out of our own egocentric view of life is not courage, but often is stupidity.

The current concern about Syrian refugees is a great place to put our courage to the test. Perhaps it would be a bit on the stupid side to pretend as though there are no potential pitfalls when it comes to allowing Syrian refugees into the United States. By this morning, governors of over half the states had declared they wouldn’t be that stupid. If Facebook posts are any indication, lots of people calling themselves Christians have gone into “Amen apoplexy” in their agreement with these governors.

Where’s the courage? What if God – exodus God that He seems to be – has decided that since we haven’t gone to Syria very effectively with the gospel, He will bring some Syrians to us? I don’t say that in the sense that I think God caused the evil that is going on there just to bring a few Syrians our way, but simply to ask if it might be possible that one of the ways God can bring “good” into this very bad situation is to expose Syrian people to the love of Christ found in Christian communities all over the United States? 

What if Jesus is really serious about all that Matthew 25 stuff? You know the “stuff” where He says, “Just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” (25:45) And all that “stuff” we did not do was “stuff” like feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming a stranger, clothing the naked, and visiting the sick and imprisoned. That sounds like an action plan for how followers of Jesus ought to be responding to the refugee crisis created by evil people in Syria.

But for that to happen, courage has to trump safety.

All of this makes me wish Paul had not said “Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” (Romans 15:7) What I know for absolute certainty is that I don’t deserve the welcome I have received from Christ. His willingness to place courage over safety, however, has made that welcome a reality. He calls me to courage over safety.

None of this is about politics in the sense of which party is right. To dismiss it on those grounds is a sure sign of our preference for safety over courage. The gospel is about bringing the good news of Jesus into every corner of the world – even the corners that somehow may be next door to us.

I don’t want a Syrian terrorist living next door to me while planning to blow up some soft target in the United States. That should be a concern for the federal government. But neither do I want to be so overwhelmed with the remote reality of that happening that I miss out on what God might be able to do with these oppressed and outcast people who could come our way. When insistence on safety makes us afraid and not courageous, we tend to make poor decisions.

Leadership is about being courageous more than it is always seeking the safe way out.

My friends in Westside Chapel are leaders – because they believe that courage trumps safety.

May God increase their tribe among us.