Time has a way of diluting intensity as the news cycle speeds onward. Charlie Kirk’s murder seems nearly forgotten just mere weeks later. If you haven’t read Parts 1 and 2, it would help but not critical. I want to address the question why Christians feel so compelled to share the good news of salvation in Christ Jesus even to a non-receptive audience eager to punish, even assassinate and celebrate the killing of the Christian messenger.

I must confess that as a Christian, I cannot claim to be someone that is particularly earnest about sharing my faith. And in the video clips of Charlie debating the students, he shared his faith sincerely and eagerly to an often hostile crowd. He inspired me to do more than I have in the past. As the world has become more chaotic, I am realizing that we don’t have all the time in the world to share the good news and whether we choose to receive this good news or not has serious consequences.

I have a strong aversion to awkwardness, both in feeling awkward and making others feel awkward. Sometimes, sharing the gospel feels awkward and sometimes the person I’m talking begins to squirm and avert gaze a bit in discomfort. And I am all too ready to divert and redirect the conversation back to shallower pleasantries because awkwardness makes me so uncomfortable.

A few Sundays back, just before church service began, I was approached by a dear couple describing some vague-ish but serious symptoms that started five days ago in the left eye of the husband, I will call him Z. Instructions were given to get a referral first thing Monday morning with the primary care physician. After the service, they came up to me in greater distress. With a little bit more questioning, I realized that Z’s retina was actively detaching. So Z and his wife were driven to the ER at the medical school hospital where they have specialists on hand or available to call in. At the initial triage, Z still had central vision. By the time the ophthalmology resident examined him three hours later, the diagnosis was confirmed, and the detachment progressed to loss of central vision. The procedures needed to reattach the retina were beyond the scope of the resident, and the fellow (more years of training) above him and the attending (the instructor above them) were both called in to do the delicate and critical procedures for Z to regain his sight in the eye.

The staff graciously allowed me to stay with him the entire process to help with translation. There were many steps to each procedure, and some of the procedures unfortunately had to be redone. So he endured at least six needles in or around the eye on top of strange and painful sensations involving lasers and exceedingly bright lights that seem to go on and on. Twice the specialist working on him took a break because Z was in serious distress and had a hard time catching his breath. Z endured much as the specialists heroically and methodically reattached his retina. All in all, the process took over 8 hours. Z was trying to be tough but he was overwhelmed by the pain and the very uncomfortable procedures at the hands of the specialists all the while going blind in the eye.

I felt so bad for Z. I have an idea how he felt, but I cannot imagine what he was thinking and feeling without a lot of preparation for what was coming next. It seemed like the procedures would never end. But as bad as I felt for Z and as bad as the pain and discomfort was, it NEVER occurred to me to say to the specialists, “Stop what you are doing! Do you see how much agony he is in!”

Am I heartless and unkind to let this team of expert specialists continue to “torture” Z?
I did my best to calm him down and prayed with him when the specialists gave him breaks. I encouraged him that the doctors were only doing the necessary things to help him see again. And after cheering him on, and he regained his composure, the specialists came back to finish the procedures. Finally, it was over. He had instructions to keep his head face down and drops were given. He was to return the next day to do the next procedure needed to complete the reattachment. Procedures continued for weeks, but his retina was successfully reattached.

What does this have to do with sharing our faith persistently?

Knowing Christ is a matter of life and death. Jesus came to give us life, His own eternal, death-conquering life. And heaven is only a part of the good news. Every one of us has a life with purpose. Don’t you want to know your purpose and live that out? It took a lot of enduring pain and discomfort for Z to keep his sight. Would you rather go blind than for your sight to be saved? Would you be willing to endure some uncomfortable discussion about how you need a Savior because you cannot even help yourself from doing the things you know you shouldn’t do? Look what you stand to gain from hearing out your Christian friend or even someone like Charlie Kirk? And I also am reminded that you are worth the awkwardness and the discomfort. Jesus is my good news, today, tomorrow, and forever. I don’t have to fear even when the chao of this world accelerates. I know the One who is ultimately in control. He has me covered. I enjoy Jesus’ forgiveness, peace, empowering, and guidance today and everyday. You can, too. Could it be that you were meant to read this long post and to consider that Charlie and others risked all to bring this to you? You can pray quite simply, “Dear God, I think You might be telling me something. Would you help me to come to Jesus? I’m tired. Help me to see me as I am and help me to accept forgiveness in Jesus for all that is in my heart. In Jesus’ name.”

I hope this message eventually finds its way to people who celebrated the death of Charlie Kirk. I struggle to comprehend the justification of celebrating anyone’s cold-blooded murder. It doesn’t mean that given the opportunity, the celebrator would have also pulled the trigger on Charlie, does it? If you celebrated, was it that you found his message offensive or are you offended by Charlie because he’s a Christian? I have heard the complaint that Charlie was imposing his Christian faith on the people he was debating. Is that it?

I am not a debater nor a theologian, just a born-again Christian. Would you allow me to share my take? You don’t have to accept what I have to say, but it comes from a place of peace and conciliation.

Every Christian that ever lived started out antagonistic to Christ. So, if you are not a fan of Christ or His followers, neither were we to varying degrees. Every person who became a Christian, even someone born to Christian parents, starts out living in a way contrary to Christ, without exception. No one comes out of their mother’s womb a Christian, quite the contrary. So, if you think Christians don’t understand what you are going through, my response is, we were you. We had the same questions, the same frustrations, and in some ways, we are still working out some things but from a completely different standing and perspective, even with new senses that we didn’t have before we were born-again as a Christian.

We appear exactly the same before and after being born again, with similar dispositions, and we are still quite prone to failure so much that we are on the receiving end of a lot of finger-pointing. So what changed when we became a Christian? EVERYTHING. Something in me came alive and I realized that a righteousness requirement for humanity does exist, and I have come terribly short of measuring up to it. It’s humbling, but great things often have humble beginnings. And when a person is willing to accept that he or she doesn’t measure up, (and no one ever measures up), we are willing to accept that gracious offer given by God to receive Jesus Christ’s “measuring up” as my own. I cannot pin-point how it happens, but I know I am changed.

When I accepted the reality that I didn’t measure up to God’s righteous requirement (we call that sin), I also receive the offer God extends to accept Jesus Christ for my measuring up. Forgiveness found in Christ Jesus not only covers my failure to measure up, but it also covers my resentment and anger towards God. Furthermore, the ability to live a life that measures up is found in Jesus’ new life in me. Because Jesus died for me on the Cross, I no longer live powered by my old life, I now live from a new source, eternal life in Christ. I stumble often, but this new life has enlivened senses that have long been deadened and I enjoy forgiveness, and peace, and joy, and love in God’s presence.

In a way, when you hear a Christian talk or try to explain things, like I’m doing, it often sounds like nonsense. We know this because we experienced this before our senses were enlivened. It’s kind of like hearing someone try to describe the smell of macadamia nut chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven to someone who has never even eaten a cookie. Or it’s like hearing someone trying to describe an ocean sunset to a blind person. Just words, meager words. So what the baker might do is drag you to their home, whip up a batch of dough, pop a tray in the oven, and watch your face at about the 8-minute mark. That’s kind of like being invited to church or to a Bible study, and we ask you to read the Bible with us and sing with us. It’s easier when you come with us and experience it for yourself. God makes a way.

You might think, why do you Christians feel compelled to go through all this trouble to tell us about Christ and the Biblical perspective? Why does Charlie and Cliffe and others feel the need to travel to college campuses and talk to people who obviously don’t want anything to do with anything Christ? In fact, Charlie received death threats to stop him from going to the campuses. He still went. You might even tell us Christians, listen, we are happy never smelling the cookies baking. Leave us alone. Why do you try so hard to share your experience with us?

Good question.