This is the intro and first chapter of Max Lucado's Outlive Your Life. It was posted free on klove.com for the listener's use. I hope you find it useful and inspirational. If you have read David Platt's Radical or are in our "Radical" group I think you will find a parallel between the two. (The text flow may be choppy or not formatted correctly so please overlook the layout.)
O Lord, what an amazing opportunity you have spread out before
me—a chance to make a difference for you in a desperately hurting
world. Help me to see the needs you want me to see, to react in a
way that honors you, and to bless others by serving them gladly
with practical expressions of your love. Help me be Jesus’ hands
and feet, and through your Spirit give me the strength and wisdom
I need to fulfill your plan for me in my own generation. In Jesus’
name I pray, amen.
Finding Father Benjamin: A Fable
Unfavorable winds blow the ship off course, and when they do, the
sailors spot uncharted islands. They see half a dozen mounds rising
out of the blue South Seas waters. The captain orders the men to
drop anchor and goes ashore. He is a robust man with a barrel chest,
full beard, and curious soul.
On the first island he sees nothing but sadness. Underfed children.
Tribes in conflict. No farming or food development, no treatment
for the sick, and no schools. Just simple, needy people.
The second and following islands reveal more of the same. The
captain sighs at what he sees. “This is no life for these people.” But
what can he do?
Then he steps onto the last and largest island. The people are
healthy and well fed. Irrigation systems nourish their fields, and
roads connect the villages. The children have bright eyes and strong
bodies. The captain asks the chief for an explanation. How has this
island moved so far ahead of the others?
The chief, who is smaller than the captain but every bit his equal in
confidence, gives a quick response: “Father Benjamin. He educated
us in everything from agriculture to health. He built schools and
clinics and dug wells.”
The captain asks, “Can you take me to see him?”
The chief nods and signals for two tribesmen to join him. They
guide the captain over a jungle ridge to a simple, expansive medical
clinic. It is equipped with clean beds and staffed with trained caretakers.
They show the captain the shelves of medicine and introduce
him to the staff. The captain, though impressed, sees nothing of
Father Benjamin. He repeats his request. “I would like to see Father
Benjamin. Can you take me to where he lives?”
The three natives look puzzled. They confer among themselves.
After several minutes the chief invites, “Follow us to the other side of
the island.” They walk along the shoreline until they reach a series of
fishponds. Canals connect the ponds to the ocean. As the tide rises,
fish pass from the ocean into the ponds. The islanders then lower
canal gates and trap the fish for harvest.
Again the captain is amazed. He meets fishermen and workers,
gatekeepers and net casters. But he sees nothing of Father Benjamin.
He wonders if he is making himself clear.
“I don’t see Father Benjamin. Please take me to where he lives.”
The trio talks alone again. After some discussion the chief offers,
“Let’s go up the mountain.” They lead the captain up a steep, narrow
path. After many twists and turns the path deposits them in front of
a grass-roofed chapel. The voice of the chief is soft and earnest. “He
has taught us about God.”
He escorts the captain inside and shows him the altar, a large
wooden cross, several rows of benches, and a Bible.
“Is this where Father Benjamin lives?” the captain asks.
The men nod and smile.
“May I talk to him?”
Their faces grow suddenly serious. “Oh, that would be impossible.”
“Why?”
“He died many years ago.”
The bewildered captain stares at the men. “I asked to see him, and
you showed me a clinic, some fish farms, and this chapel. You said
nothing of his death.”
“You didn’t ask about his death,” the chief explains. “You asked to
see where he lives. We showed you.”
Chapter 1Our Once-in-History
OpportunityBy the time you knew what to call it, you were neck deep in it. You’d
toddler walked and talked, smelled crayons and swung bats, gurgled
and giggled your way out of diapers and into childhood.
You’d noticed how guys aren’t gals and dogs aren’t cats and pizza
sure beats spinach. And then, somewhere in the midst of it all, it
hit you. At your grandpa’s funeral perhaps. Maybe when you waved
good-bye as your big brother left for the marines. You realized that
these days are more than ice cream trips, homework, and pimples.
This is called life. And this one is yours.
Complete with summers and songs and gray skies and tears, you
have a life. Didn’t request one, but you have one. A first day. A final
day. And a few thousand in between. You’ve been given an honest to-
goodness human life.
You’ve been given
never bump into yourself on the sidewalk. You’ll never meet anyone
who has your exact blend of lineage, loves, and longings. Your life
will never be lived by anyone else. You’re not a jacket in an attic that
can be recycled after you are gone.your life. No one else has your version. You’llAnd who pressed the accelerator? As soon as one day is lived, voilà,
here comes another. The past has passed, and the good old days are
exactly that: old days, the stuff of rearview mirrors and scrapbooks.
Life is racing by, and if we aren’t careful, you and I will look up, and
our shot at it will have passed us by.
Some people don’t bother with such thoughts. They grind through
their days without lifting their eyes to look. They live and die and
never ask why.
But you aren’t numbered among them, or you wouldn’t be holding
a book entitled
well. You want to do good. You want your life to matter. You want to
live in such a way that the world will be glad you did.
But how can you? How can I? Can God use us?
I have one hundred and twenty answers to that question. One
hundred and twenty residents of ancient Israel. They were the charter
members of the Jerusalem church (Acts 1:15). Fishermen, some.
Revenue reps, others. A former streetwalker and a converted revolutionary
or two. They had no clout with Caesar, no friends at the
temple headquarters. Truth be told, they had nothing more than
this: a fire in the belly to change the world.
Thanks to Luke we know how they fared. He recorded their
stories in the book of Acts. Let’s listen to it. That’s right—
the book of Acts. It cracks with the sounds of God’s ever-expanding
work. Press your ear against the pages, and hear God press into the
corners and crevices of the world.
Hear sermons echo off the temple walls. Baptismal waters splashing,
just-saved souls laughing. Hear the spoon scrape the bowl as yet
another hungry mouth is fed.
Listen to the doors opening and walls collapsing. Doors to Antioch,
Ethiopia, Corinth, and Rome. Doors into palaces, prisons, and Roman
courts.
And walls. The ancient prejudice between Jew and Samaritan—
down! The thick and spiked division between Jew and Gentile—crash!
The partitions that quarantine male from female, landowner from
pauper, master from slave, black African from Mediterranean Jew—
God demolishes them all.
Acts announces, “God is afoot!”Outlive Your Life. It’s not enough for you to dolisten toIs he still
followers
Heaven knows we hope so. These are devastating times: 1.75
billion people are desperately poor,
are trafficked in slavery, and pandemic diseases are gouging entire
nations. Each year nearly 2 million children are exploited in the
global commercial sex trade.
read these pages, almost ninety children died of preventable diseases.? we wonder. Would God do with us what he did with his first?1 1 billion are hungry,2 millions3 And in the five minutes it took you to4More than half of all Africans do not have access to modern health
facilities. As a result, 10 million of them die each year from diarrhea,
acute respiratory illness, malaria, and measles. Many of those deaths
could be prevented by one shot.5Yet in the midst of the wreckage, here we stand, the modern-day
version of the Jerusalem church. You, me, and our one-of-a-kind lifetimes
and once-in-history opportunity.
Ours is the wealthiest generation of Christians ever. We are
bright, educated, and experienced. We can travel around the world
in twenty-four hours or send a message in a millisecond. We have
the most sophisticated research and medicines at the tips of our fingers.
We have ample resources. A mere 2 percent of the world’s grain
harvest would be enough, if shared, to erase the problems of hunger
and malnutrition around the world.
planet to offer every person twenty-five hundred calories of sustenance
a day.
And we have enough bedrooms to house the orphans. Here’s the
math. There are 145 million orphans worldwide.
people in the United States call themselves Christians.
a purely statistical standpoint, American Christians by themselves
have the wherewithal to house every orphan in the world.
Of course, many people are not in a position to do so. They are
elderly, infirm, unemployed, or simply feel no call to adopt. Yet what
if a small percentage of them did? Hmmm, let’s say 6 percent. If so,
we could provide loving homes for the more than 14.1 million children
in sub-Saharan Africa who have been orphaned by the AIDS
epidemic.
one sound? “American Christians Stand Up for AIDS Orphans.”
Wouldn’t that headline be a welcome one?
I don’t mean to oversimplify these terribly complicated questions.
We can’t just snap our fingers and expect the grain to flow across
borders or governments to permit foreign adoptions. Policies stalemate
the best of efforts. International relations are strained. Corrupt
officials snag the systems. I get that.
But this much is clear: the storehouse is stocked. The problem is
not in the supply; the problem is in the distribution. God has given
this generation,
of human suffering.
A few years back, three questions rocked my world. They came
from different people in the span of a month. Question 1: Had you
been a German Christian during World War II, would you have
taken a stand against Hitler? Question 2: Had you lived in the South
during the civil rights conflict, would you have taken a stand against
racism? Question 3: When your grandchildren discover you lived
during a day in which 1.75 billion people were poor and 1 billion
were hungry, how will they judge your response?
I didn’t mind the first two questions. They were hypothetical. I’d
like to think I would have taken a stand against Hitler and fought
against racism. But those days are gone, and those choices were not
mine. But the third question has kept me awake at night. I do live
today; so do you. We are given a choice . . . an opportunity to make
a big difference during a difficult time. What if we did? What if we
rocked the world with hope? Infiltrated all corners with God’s love
and life? What if we followed the example of the Jerusalem church?
This tiny sect expanded into a world-changing force. We still drink
from their wells and eat from their trees of faith. How did they do it?
What can we learn from their priorities and passion?
Let’s ponder their stories, found in the first twelve chapters of
Acts. Let’s examine each event through the lens of this prayer:
it again, Jesus. Do it again
has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he
planned for us long ago” (Eph. 2:10
God to do great works. He invites us to outlive our lives, not just in
heaven but here on earth.
Here’s a salute to a long life: goodness that outlives the grave, love
that outlasts the final breath. May you live in such a way that your
death is just the beginning of your life.6 There is enough food on the7 We have enough food to feed the hungry.8 Nearly 236 million9 From10 Among the noble causes of the church, how does thatour generation, everything we need to alter the courseDo. After all, “We are God’s masterpiece. Henlt). We are created by a greatAfter David had done the will
of God in his own generation, he died and was buried.(Acts 13:36 NLT)
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