I feel as if this blog has been stirring in my heart for quite some time, but it has been difficult to find the tone to write it with. I read Psalm 101 some days ago, and it has sat on my heart with the weight of a large stone. I cannot get past the first 4 lines:
I will sing of steadfast love and justice; to you, O LORD, I will make music. I will ponder the way that is blameless. Oh when will you come to me?
David wrote it. It's a song about leaders. Who leaders should be, what they should do, how they should live- it's all here in this little song the Israelites would sing. But who could fulfill such steep requirements? When they sang the song they had in mind a king in the line of David, but even more than that they had in mind a Messiah. They would sing it envisioning someone who had not been born yet, but they knew would exist. The man was faceless and shapeless, but his character was evident. He was blameless- faultless, without sin, innocent. He was steadfast in love- his love never failed, it was endless and unconditional. And His justice was perfect- he upheld the law and was the judge of the law, morally and spiritually perfect, He was life and life in the fullest.
This man was the ideal of the Hebrew people- and they waited for Him to come. And then they nailed Him to a cross, crucified Him, and to this day are waiting for the "real one" to appear.
He was here. He came for us, and he fit the mold His people were looking for. He was blameless, and steadfast in love and justice. Oh how perfect He was. He is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but in every way was tempted like us- yet was without sin! (Hebrews 4:15) We have a King who committed no sin, neither was deceit found in His mouth (1 Peter 2:22). Steadfast in love and justice, blameless before God, and a perfect sacrifice for my sin, for your sin, and for the sins of His people.
I wonder how many today wait for a savior. Maybe it isn't a king from the line of David, but is: money, jobs, marriage, romance, children, or some other mythical satisfaction the world hurls our way. He was here already. He came for you- don't miss Him, He was everything we sing about today and more- our glorious Savior.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Dear Friends and Facebook
Most of you will probably never read this, and the few that will know me well enough to respect it, I hope. I have been thinking quite a bit about my Facebook and the attraction it has on my soul. While I am not a Facebook addict, and I have often refused to participate in the narcissistic posting about my daily routine (not too difficult since no one is interested- I'm a pretty boring dude), I have detected a bit of underlying concern with my page. I often post notes or updates pertaining to Christ, and my hope is that they glorify Him. However, there is a deep part of my heart that hopes they glorify me. I want people to visit my page, to comment on my pictures, to think of me often, to see how intelligent I am (which requires lots of slight of hand and illusions), and to be interested in my life. This portion of my heart has gone unresolved for too long. It is my arrogance that has allowed me to let it grow for even this long, and it is the grace of God that has revealed it to me now. I am far too concerned with the lives of others (including people who I have no business being concerned for), and not concerned enough with the lives of FOS students, my family, and most importantly- The Word of God. Social networking and internet has distracted me long enough, and I am absolutely humbled before God in this moment. I long for intimacy with my Savior and I don't believe Facebook is a venue that is conducive to that for me. I could use the excuse that it is networking with other pastors or old friends- but that is merely laziness on my part. I would like to say that this is a decision I am making knowing my own heart, and I do not think by any means that Facebook is the anti-Christ, demonic, Satan, Beelzubub, or worse- Hilary Clinton (sorry, I had to make a joke here and it was too easy). I do hope that one day I will return to this world because it is fun to see what is going on in the lives of people I care about, but that day is far off yet. If you would like to keep in touch I would be absolutely honored to hear from you. My email address is:
jake@ecconline.cc and/or jgamble.nchs@gmail.com
You can also have my phone number if you ask for it. Thanks for your friendship (the 3 of you who read this) and I hope that even in this note God is glorified. I will be deleting my Facebook account tomorrow evening.
In the words of Clarence (It's a Wonderful Life), "Remember George...No man is a failure who has friends."
For the Glory of God,
Jake Gamble
P.S.- I will continue writing at takethegamble.blogspot.com if you wish to follow along.
jake@ecconline.cc and/or jgamble.nchs@gmail.com
You can also have my phone number if you ask for it. Thanks for your friendship (the 3 of you who read this) and I hope that even in this note God is glorified. I will be deleting my Facebook account tomorrow evening.
In the words of Clarence (It's a Wonderful Life), "Remember George...No man is a failure who has friends."
For the Glory of God,
Jake Gamble
P.S.- I will continue writing at takethegamble.blogspot.com if you wish to follow along.
Skid Row
On Friday morning, 9 people from our team (required to be 17 and older) got the go ahead to visit "Skid Row" in downtown LA. This is an area of 12 city blocks that is "home" to about 1,000 homeless people per block. As we drove past in our vans to park, it was incredible to see every single sidewalk full of people. Some were sleeping on mats, others pushing carts, and others still standing "innocently."
We pulled over and as we were receiving our simple instructions (to invite each person to a free meal at 1:30 pm)a man decided it was time to impart some wisdom. He told us how he was a product of Skid Row, how he had grown up there and the streets made him who he was, and how he could smell the "Hills" (Beverly Hills) on everyone of us "rich white folk." The tension was high enough without this guy stirring us up, but that didn't help. Some of the kids (and leaders) were afraid, so we took time to pray and ask God for courage and protection.
As we walked the streets, I saw things that I know will never be erased from my memory. After speaking with one man, I was walking to catch up with the group when a guy stumbled around the corner. I was a bit startled, but as I went to invite him to the meal I noticed his eyes rolled back in his head and a band tied around his upper arm. He had just finished shooting up in the alley. I tried to start a coherent conversation with him, but he was not following. We passed a few more blocks when I stopped to talk with 2 more guys. They were surprisingly friendly as I made conversation, and when I had finished (about to ask them if I could pray with them since they were so nice) speaking both started to reach into their pockets. One pulled out a large wad of cash, the other a small baggie filled with white powder. I was 2 feet from them and in broad daylight, but there was no shame on their part, it was simply a part of every day life.
Then we stopped by San Julian Park. I had only seen places like this in the movies. There were probably a hundred people inside, groups of 10-15 spread out around covered tables with their music blasting from old school boom boxes. I decided to approach one table and apologize for interrupting. The conversation went something like this-
Me: "Hey, sorry to interrupt, how's it going?"
Guy: "You don't care."
Me: "Oh, I'm sorry...I just wanted to tell you we are serving a free meal..."
Guy: "Good for you."
Me: "Well, it's at 1:30 at the V.O.A..."
Guy: "Shut up."
Me: "Yes sir, well I hope to see..."
Guy: "I said SHUTUP!"
Needless to say, I shut up. I wasn't sure what it was that set him off. Maybe it was my tone, or the fact that I was interrupting. Maybe it was the fact that I was white and he thought I had no business interrupting his day. I could feel the bitterness, anger, and hatred coming from his soul.
A few blocks from there a large camper sat on the side of the street that had a bucket inside. Junkies could come drop off dirty needles and exchange them for clean ones. It was like the city had given up, saying, "Well, we can't stop them from shooting up, so we might as well keep them from getting AIDS while they do it."
I had never seen anything like Skid Row. So many people hurting, broken, desperate, and lost...and they don't want any help. Years and years of neglect have left some angry at the world; and others searching for a way out. Stepping out of the car you could feel the weight of the place you had entered. You could feel the oppression, and you could sense the hopelessness. Somehow, seeing through the anger and desperation and the high most were riding, I saw something unexpected. I saw people. There were souls in there. Some maybe hidden deeper than others, but there were real, genuine people who were made in the image of God! There were people who had never known love, who had never seen the beautiful feet mentioned in Romans 10. Sin had hidden the message from them for so long, and we tried to bring it through food.
I left unsure of what to feel. I wanted so badly to do more. All of us wanted to rush out of our van and weep, crying out to them, "It doesn't have to be this way! There is another life, a better life! There is hope and infinite joy! It's not just Chinese food we were inviting you too!"
It left me thinking this- No place on this earth is God-forsaken. No matter how dark and lost a place is, God is there. But as I looked around and saw the misery all I could think was what hell must be like. Similar in a place of torment and hopelessness, but there is no sunshine that brings light in the morning. There is no free meal on Friday afternoon to fill your belly. There is merely the tragedy of dead souls who never knew the life that was at stake. And as the thought hit me I could not help but think I will not be a part of people going to hell! If sinners go then I will do all that is in my power to stop them! I will beg and plead and weep with them to find Christ in their lives so that they must not experience hell! They mustn't go to a place worse than what I had seen! God give me beautiful feet to bring that message.
C.H. Spurgeon once said, "If sinners will be damned, at least let them leap to hell over our bodies. And if they will perish, let them perish with our arms around their knees, imploring them to stay. If hell must be filled, at least let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go there unwarned and unprayed for."
Make it so, Sweet Lord. Precious Jesus, please let the people of Skid Row see that "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned."
We pulled over and as we were receiving our simple instructions (to invite each person to a free meal at 1:30 pm)a man decided it was time to impart some wisdom. He told us how he was a product of Skid Row, how he had grown up there and the streets made him who he was, and how he could smell the "Hills" (Beverly Hills) on everyone of us "rich white folk." The tension was high enough without this guy stirring us up, but that didn't help. Some of the kids (and leaders) were afraid, so we took time to pray and ask God for courage and protection.
As we walked the streets, I saw things that I know will never be erased from my memory. After speaking with one man, I was walking to catch up with the group when a guy stumbled around the corner. I was a bit startled, but as I went to invite him to the meal I noticed his eyes rolled back in his head and a band tied around his upper arm. He had just finished shooting up in the alley. I tried to start a coherent conversation with him, but he was not following. We passed a few more blocks when I stopped to talk with 2 more guys. They were surprisingly friendly as I made conversation, and when I had finished (about to ask them if I could pray with them since they were so nice) speaking both started to reach into their pockets. One pulled out a large wad of cash, the other a small baggie filled with white powder. I was 2 feet from them and in broad daylight, but there was no shame on their part, it was simply a part of every day life.
Then we stopped by San Julian Park. I had only seen places like this in the movies. There were probably a hundred people inside, groups of 10-15 spread out around covered tables with their music blasting from old school boom boxes. I decided to approach one table and apologize for interrupting. The conversation went something like this-
Me: "Hey, sorry to interrupt, how's it going?"
Guy: "You don't care."
Me: "Oh, I'm sorry...I just wanted to tell you we are serving a free meal..."
Guy: "Good for you."
Me: "Well, it's at 1:30 at the V.O.A..."
Guy: "Shut up."
Me: "Yes sir, well I hope to see..."
Guy: "I said SHUTUP!"
Needless to say, I shut up. I wasn't sure what it was that set him off. Maybe it was my tone, or the fact that I was interrupting. Maybe it was the fact that I was white and he thought I had no business interrupting his day. I could feel the bitterness, anger, and hatred coming from his soul.
A few blocks from there a large camper sat on the side of the street that had a bucket inside. Junkies could come drop off dirty needles and exchange them for clean ones. It was like the city had given up, saying, "Well, we can't stop them from shooting up, so we might as well keep them from getting AIDS while they do it."
I had never seen anything like Skid Row. So many people hurting, broken, desperate, and lost...and they don't want any help. Years and years of neglect have left some angry at the world; and others searching for a way out. Stepping out of the car you could feel the weight of the place you had entered. You could feel the oppression, and you could sense the hopelessness. Somehow, seeing through the anger and desperation and the high most were riding, I saw something unexpected. I saw people. There were souls in there. Some maybe hidden deeper than others, but there were real, genuine people who were made in the image of God! There were people who had never known love, who had never seen the beautiful feet mentioned in Romans 10. Sin had hidden the message from them for so long, and we tried to bring it through food.
I left unsure of what to feel. I wanted so badly to do more. All of us wanted to rush out of our van and weep, crying out to them, "It doesn't have to be this way! There is another life, a better life! There is hope and infinite joy! It's not just Chinese food we were inviting you too!"
It left me thinking this- No place on this earth is God-forsaken. No matter how dark and lost a place is, God is there. But as I looked around and saw the misery all I could think was what hell must be like. Similar in a place of torment and hopelessness, but there is no sunshine that brings light in the morning. There is no free meal on Friday afternoon to fill your belly. There is merely the tragedy of dead souls who never knew the life that was at stake. And as the thought hit me I could not help but think I will not be a part of people going to hell! If sinners go then I will do all that is in my power to stop them! I will beg and plead and weep with them to find Christ in their lives so that they must not experience hell! They mustn't go to a place worse than what I had seen! God give me beautiful feet to bring that message.
C.H. Spurgeon once said, "If sinners will be damned, at least let them leap to hell over our bodies. And if they will perish, let them perish with our arms around their knees, imploring them to stay. If hell must be filled, at least let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go there unwarned and unprayed for."
Make it so, Sweet Lord. Precious Jesus, please let the people of Skid Row see that "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned."
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