comfortably uncomfortable

get-comfortable-being-uncomfortable-7So there I was in line at Walmart at 11:30 last night, buying some box fans for our hot house. The AC was dead and I was frustrated. I didn’t want to be at Walmart.  I wanted to be at home in my cool house, in my comfy bed. Instead I was just one of the interesting late night characters at Walmart who had come out for their late night whatevers.  I wasn’t the only one frustrated, the cashier wasn’t happy to be there.  The muslim man behind me was barking out some harsh words to his wife who stood behind him.  The look on her face was marked with sadness and defeat.  So in an effort to escape further frustration, I began to do the most spiritual thing I could think of at the moment – scroll through Facebook on my phone.

Mimi’s post was the first one on my news feed.  She’s a friend who  leads a ministry to prostitutes in our city, called Love’s Arm Outreach.  Her post went something like this:

“On my way home I was coming down [such and such streets] and [Jane] walked right in front of me. She was naked underneath a black négligée. I rolled down the window and said “[Jane] is that you?” She pulled the négligée down to cover herself and said “Yes mam. I gotta go.” My heart is breaking for her!”

Suddenly I felt completely nauseous.  Reality slapped me hard in the face.  There I stood, aggravated that my comfortable world had been interrupted by a broken AC unit, while life for so many other people around me was anything but comfortable

I came home to our hot house.  Turned on all of our fans.  Kissed my kids and wife good night.  Laid down in my comfy bed. As I drifted off to sleep I asked God to forgive me for my self pity and frustration.  I asked Him to comfort the broken people all around me.  And prayed that I would never be so comfortable that I would be blind to those around me who needed His ultimate comfort.  I prayed that He would make me comfortably uncomfortable.

I prayed the same for you. . . .

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