A Very Good Question from Kairos Tonight

The speaker at Kairos tonight asked a very good and pertinent question: are you trying to wear Saul’s armor?

Let me backtrack a bit to explain. In 1 Samuel 17, Israel is about to face the Philistines in battle. Their main guy, Saul, challenges any Israelite to face him in single-handed combat, with the losing side becoming servants to the winning side.

David, a young shepherd who is there delivering supplies to his brothers, steps up to the challenge, even though he is only a youth. He is convicted in  his heart that no one should taunt the people of God.

Saul, the king of Israel, tries to get David to wear his armor. But the problem is that it doesn’t fit. David isn’t used to it and can’t do what he’s good at in it– slinging stones with a sling shot.

David ends up facing the giant armed only with 5 stones and a slingshot– and supreme confidence that God will deliver him.

So are you wearing Saul’s armor? Are you encumbered by somebody else’s expectations of you? Are you so busy trying to be somebody else that you’ve forgotten how to be yourself?

God made you to be you and only you being you can fulfill the purposes God has for you. It starts with you being faithful in the little things long before you face your Goliath.

God has wired you a certain way and equipped you with a unique blend of gifts and talents and desires so that you can fulfill the part in God’s plan that no one else but you can do.

Don’t ever let anyone else tell you that you don’t matter or that you have nothing to offer. God made you unique and one of a kind for a work that he’s called you to do. He looks at you and says that you’re his masterpiece.

My prayer for you is that you would find joy in being the best you possible. That you would find your place in God’s advancing kingdom and help others find theirs as well.

 

I Am Rahab

I am Rahab. I am what is known as a prostitute. A hooker. To put it bluntly, a whore. I make my living on my back. It’s a profession as old as time, but also a way of living that fills me with shame.

Then I meet two strange men. Something in me compels me to let them in. Right away, I can tell they’re not looking for a companion for the night. They don’t look and sound like people from the town I live in.

I ask them where they’re from and what they’re doing here and they start talking about being a people chosen by this god they call Yahweh. It’s so unlike all the other stories about gods that I’ve ever heard that I am instantly hooked. Right away, I know that if trouble comes, I want to be on their side.

The more they talk, the more I think that maybe this God who turned a bunch of ragtags into a nation can somehow turn my life around. Maybe this God of Israel is God. Period.

So I agree to their plans and hide them. I even lie to the soldiers about them. Surely this God will forgive me if He knows I’m doing it to save His people. I’ve agreed to help them and to let them out by a secret way from my window on the outer part of the city wall by a scarlet rope.

I know why they’re here. They’re here because Jericho is a wicked city and God has told His people to destroy it. I know that they will bring death. So I plead for my life. I plead for the life of my family.

They tell me that if I hang a scarlet cord from my window, the same one I used to save them, they will spare me and all my family who are inside. Me and my family will be spared.

I’m telling you this because I am a part of a famous genealogy. You may not know this, but from my line will come David, King of Israel, and later (and best of all) the Messiah Jesus. Because of my small acts of courage, I get to be a part of bringing the Savior of the world to the world.

If you look in the book of Hebrews, you will find my name. Specifically in the 11th chapter, better known as the Faith Hall of Fame. I’m living proof that God can save the lowest of the low. Not even a common whore is beneath the reach of God’s love.

If God could save me, He can save anyone. And that includes you.

I am Rahab, and I am the beloved of my Abba.