I used to be a quiet Christian. I behaved myself and acted like a "good" person (I can't think that word anymore without hearing Jesus ask, "Why do you call me 'good?' Is anyone good but God?"), and figured people would know I did it because I'm a Christian.
I failed to reason how people would know that if I never mentioned Christ.
Then I read a primer on Islam from something like the Islamic Center for Muslim Outreach. I have it around here somewhere, but I'm too lazy to go find it. A totally legitimate, slightly more than a pamphlet about the seven pillars of Islam, and why I'd want to be a Muslim. I'd never seen a brochure for another religion, so I read it. And got a little convicted in my own religion.
Islam has some things going for it. Daily charity, for one. Respect for their holy book (According to the brochure, the Koran should be kept in a special place higher than anything else in the house and read through entirely every month. It's a bit smaller than the Bible, so this isn't as scary as it sounds). Sharing of their faith. Muslims are encouraged to proselytize.
Christians are encouraged to share our faith, too, by Jesus Himself in the Great Commission, if you want only one example, but we have so much else in the Bible to study and emulate some of us overlook that one.
So I'm pondering this book on Islam, and wondering, if they willingly, openly speak about a god that I believe is false, why am I hesitant to speak about the One I believe is true? That is the difference as I see it. My God actually exists. That's why I serve Him. If I didn't believe that, I'd do something easier with my life. Or I'd be a Muslim. Or a Wiccan. I have an affinity for the Wiccan worldview. It's very peaceful.
But I chose (and still choose) Christianity. Why was I silent about it?
I'm out of space, so I'll give you the second punch tomorrow.
Keep the faith.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
One of A One-Two Punch
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