Last week, I spent some time hanging out on Liz Griffin’s blog space, Lark and Bloom. I felt like I was jumping into her world–her heart, her dreams, her convictions. It was truly a refreshing, fun time drinking in her words. The following post originally appeared on her website on August 26, 2014, and it really speaks to so many of the feelings I had when I wrote A Letter to the Apathetic Church. Liz gave me permission to reblog her writing here, and I hope you enjoy! Head on over to Lark and Bloom or find her on Instagram (@thelizgriffin) and meet a like-minded sister today. Thanks, Liz!
I see Ferguson. I see Ebola spreading. I see ISIS terrorizing. I see poverty destroying entire countries. And yet, I dream. I dream of what the Church can be in moments like these…
The history of the earth is comprised by stories of men and women like you and me. Experiences compressed through time to make a greater story. This is our moment to tell our story.
Because like it or not, history will read the pages we are currently writing.
I don’t care if they know who I was or who you were. Most likely future generations won’t talk about which church had the most campuses or who toured the conference circuit. They will want to know our true story.
I pray. I dream. I hope that this – this is what our story is:
They did something. The world around was falling apart, but the people of God did something. Their plans weren’t perfect, but regardless of failure they got up and kept going. The Church didn’t make excuses, they made progress. Their short-comings didn’t haunt them.
They didn’t gossip the Gospel, they lived it. They advanced it. Each one looking at the brokeness in front of them and responding. Big or small. There were no ordinary days. The people of the Church in that generation found their voice. A mighty voice that roared on behalf of the silent.
They were driven by a love for the Greater. They solved social problems previously thought un-solvable. When they grew weary they rested in the presence of God and drew from wells that never ran dry. The people of God never gave up. They sat around their kitchen tables dreaming into the Kingdom. While riding in their cars they called upon heaven to intervene on behalf of the disenfranchised. Miraculous things happened. There were no ordinary days.
Each one took the tools they had and worked. Labored – remembering the stories of generations before them. Holding to the testimony that has preceded them. The vision was greater than a fleeting pleasure and righteousness grew in their midst.
They risked everything knowing that Eternity calls their name.
There were no ordinary days.
History may have forgotten their names and faces, but a greater Kingdom knows them well. The fruit of that generation is still being harvested today. A group of courageous people who stood up when they didn’t have to. They did something.