Why this life matters (Part 2)

Why This Life Matters (part 2).


“The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 6:23).

As Christians, we have a tendency to emphasis in our thoughts, words, choice of songs and study material, the hereafter. Eternal life. Eternity. The general assumption seems to be that this earthly life must end before eternal life can begin. What excites me is that we don’t have to wait. ‘The gift of God is eternal life’ which begins with our first transformational encounter with Jesus. Eternity in Christ Jesus has begun. WE don’t have to wait for physical death to experience whatever that means.

So what does that mean? It means that this life matters. If the wages of sin is death, then the opposite is true for a life lived in the grace of Jesus., including the earthly bit. Jesus himself demonstrated that this life matters. He didn’t just forgive sins and promise eternal life in His presence. He healed, he restored sight, he banished hunger. He began the restoration of a broken world, which will one day not be broken anymore. And the really really great bit is that we get to help in the restoration. The way we lve our lives either will or will not work towards restoration and healing – spiritually, physically, emotionally. But whichever we choose, eternity has begun. The life of the lady outside the cafe matters. Now.

This life matters

"And if you said 'this life ain't good enough', I'd give my world to lift yours up."

I must’ve heard these words a thousand times over the years. It’s a favourite song of mine, and as it seems any cafe in Dhaka or Kolkata that wants to appear remotely western. But as I heard Santana’s ‘Smooth’ this time, sitting in a clean, air conditioned cafe, I listened to this part again. There was a lady on the other side of the glass, the noisy, dirty, hot side, looking at me intentionally, and waiting for me to come out. I could tell by looking at her, before she even had a chance to hold her hand out to me and say ‘Didi (Sister,) that her life ain’t good enough.

Right now, our team is in the process of figuring out what it means to give our world to lift hers up and the too-many-to- count people just like her. Specifically, we are trying to discern our location in this vast city of need. It’s already difficult to meet people and listen to their stories – maybe a family who works on a vast mound of the city’s rubbish, scavenging amongst the pigs for recyclables. The children should be in school, but the more hands on in the rubbish, the more chances of being lucky that day. And then to meet another family, maybe this time a lady with two sons and an alcoholic husband living in one room of a condemned building. She is the only one in her family who doesn’t know she has leukemia. They can’t tell her, because then she will know that she should have more treatment, and they can’t afford to pay for it. Or the mother whose son was shot dead at random by someone in their own community.

Behind many many cottage doors in this city, there are similar stories. And the reality is, we will never know the half of it. With each new exploration comes lamentation. We lift these people up in prayer in grief and at the same time wonder if we will return to that area to live. We’ve spent the last month or so meeting the people that live behind some of these doors and listening to words of wisdom from other people who know the city much better than us, both nationals and foreigners. If you are one who prays, please join with us we pray about three specific areas of the city that seem like good possibilities to set up our new worlds.