My eyes are dry

I heard a testimony last night at our United Methodist Men’s Club meeting from a successful local small-business owner who spends his wealth and risks his freedom—if not his very life—working to spread the gospel in China.

He described a recent experience he had at a house church in China. He was teaching Paul’s letter to the Philippians to a group of young Christians who were hungry to hear God’s Word. When he finished teaching, he said that dozens of these Christians asked him to pray with them. It made him uncomfortable, he said, because of course he didn’t have any greater access to our heavenly Father than they did. But he knelt with each person and prayed.

In each case, he said, they asked him to pray for family and friends who hadn’t yet received Christ as Savior and Lord. As they knelt on the floor and prayed, tears ran down their cheeks, falling on the floor between them. He said he felt convicted because his eyes were dry. Why were his eyes dry? he wondered.

This part-time missionary said that he has received far more from the Chinese than he has given them. And the most important gift they’ve given him is what they’ve taught him about prayer. They have a greater passion for prayer. They pray with greater urgency for the salvation of the lost.

In my better moments as a pastor, I really want lost people to be saved. Even more than I want my numbers to look good. Even more than I want to look cool. Even more than I want the praise and admiration of my parishioners, my clergy colleagues, my district superintendent, and my bishop.

But, God help me, even in my better moments, my eyes are dry.

Almighty God, break my heart with a burden for the lost. Amen.