"I hate this book."
Whenever it would come up in conversations with other people, I would talk about how it was the Christian book that didn't change my life, and how it wasn't relevant to people who are already living out their faith.
Then, I decided I wanted to give it to someone I knew...because pridefully I thought,
"This person isn't living with the gospel in mind; I bet the book would help them."
So I decided to try to read it again.
The second time I tried to read Radical by David Platt, I got two chapters in, shut the book, and said
"I hate this book."
Not because I thought it wasn't relevant or because I disagreed with his theology, but because the questions it raised about the American dream and about my faith were so tough that they scared me. When I finally put my big-girl panties on and thought about what he was asking, the answers made me sick.
How much do you love Jesus?
Do I love him more than my job? More than my car? Do I love him so much that all my earthly relationships look like hate in comparison?
I'm afraid to answer that honestly.
I'm not sure that my faith is "radical", but I hope that it can be. Over time, I know that he will break down those barriers of selfishness and sin, so that I can give more of myself to him.
"This is all that I can say right now.
I know it's not much,
but this all that I can give,
and that's my everything."
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