a million word lecture

Before I get going, this is a story
… about listening.
… and about prayer.


Soon after I accepted Christ and committed my life to following Him, I had this crazy amount of naive passion.  God did something so large in my life that I couldn't keep it to myself (and still can't for that matter).  The direction of my life was headed in a particular direction, and within a day the needle of my compass was pointed in a completely opposite direction.  South became north, north became south - my polarities completely flipped.  I couldn't keep this to myself.  I remember telling my friends at college - they thought I went off the deep end.  "Jesus," they'd say, "really?"  I remember being mocked.  They'd sing Jesus Loves Me in an attempt to make me feel stupid.  And it worked.  But something inside continued.  Overnight, Christ made sense to me.  I couldn't explain it, He just did.

I began attending Bible studies with other students at college.  I was so ignited to read and study the Bible, that joining a Bible study wasn't even an question.  I had to.  The plain and boring words of scripture, or so I had previously thought, were now full of life and vibrancy.  The Bible had become soothing to my soul.  I was hungry for it.  I longed for it.  More than any other time before, I valued the Bible on a level that seemed to be of another dimension.

I previously had something I refer to as a "bad complex."  I was a rebel.  If the opportunity arose, I would do exactly what I wasn't supposed to do.  I'd look for ways to be "bad."  I loved it.  There were even times that I was "bad," not for any other reason than the fact that I knew it was "bad."  This complex seemed to control my life.  It owned me.  And I knew how to manipulate my way around "good-complex" people.  I remember devising plans to steal and take advantage of other goodie two-shoe Christians.  For me, the easiest thing in the world was to deceive in order to get my way.  One of the things I became really good at was pretending to be a good-complex.  I was a poser, and I was excellent at this kind of acting.  Although I had some sort of "bad-complex," I always despised others who had the "good-complex."  You know these types, the ones who always follow the rules and do the right things.  These are the ones who are innocent to the core - those who "wouldn't hurt a fly."  Although I was jealous and despised their innocence, I put targets on their backs.  I'd play deceitful games, and to this day, I'm embarrassed of who I was.

Back to the Bible study…
It was full of good-complex people.  I tried to relate with them but from my perspective, my newly found faith's adrenaline could not understand their seemingly unresponsive faith.  Why weren't they excited to read words given to us by God?  Why did they seem bored?  Why didn't they talk about the amazingness of Christ?  I was a bad complex convert, and I was excited about it.  I couldn't fathom their lack of enthusiasm, and quite honestly, at the time, I didn't care.  I was out to follow Christ and that became the north of my compass.

One time, a friend of mine told me he admired the surge of my faith.  He wanted to talk to me because he said he wanted his faith to be real.  So we met.  It quickly became evident to me that he was a good-complex person.  He always did the right thing.  Always attended Sunday School.  He never drank, had sex, or rebelled against his parents.  His shirt was always tucked in and his tie was always knotted tight.  He was a good-complex person and I could identify the type from a mile away.  He made it clear that he'd never been excited about his faith.  He'd never seen beauty in scripture.  But, he wanted to.

It was my turn, or so I thought.  I began telling him my journey.  I told him where I came from, who I thought I was, what happened when I gave my life to Christ, and who I want to be.  Every once in a while, I'd glance over at his widened eyes to observe a guy trying to soak in every word coming out of my mouth.  So I talked, and talked, and talked, and talked.  I gave him a million word lecture.  Throughout my talk, I looked over and noticed that his interest level continued to diminish.  "What on earth," I thought, "Why isn't he as pumped as I am?"

After the night of the million word lecture, I began wondering what happened.  I even asked him.  He said, "I just can't relate with anything you said.  It seems like it's something that's so far away.  I don't know."

And I realized that I didn't listen to much of his story.  In my naive passion, I was so excited to vomit out my story, that I completely remained ignorant of his.  Perhaps like bad-complex people, good-complex people have stories too.  Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to talk, and more patient to listen.  Maybe in listening, I could have been better informed to pray for my friend.  Maybe prayer would have been far more powerful than a million word lecture.

I wonder how many other times I've done this to people.  My story didn't relate to his story, and the whole while, maybe I needed to be more sensitive to his story.  Perhaps I need to recognize that other people have stories and struggles as well.

Although I am passionate about my story, I need to recognize that it's also about our story.  Not just mine, but his too.  Not just your's, but their's as well.  Let us be less eager to give a million word lecture, and more patient to listen.  Perhaps what we hear can better inform us on what we can pray.

I'm thankful.
I'm thankful for the grace God showed me when he opened my eyes and flipped the polarities of my compass.
I'm thankful for finding Christ in the middle of my bad-complex.
I'm thankful that a sinner like me can continue to live in grace.
I'm thankful that I have the opportunity to listen and pray for those who need Christ.
I'm thankful for God's endless pursuit of me.
I'm thankful for his abundant love.


I'm thankful for lessons about
…listening and prayer.