In the midst of heroes

I am in the midst of heroes. I know a man in his twenties who leads one of our house churches. He has only been a Christian for a couple of years, but when he found out that his cousin was in his final weeks as a result of AIDS, he went every friday to his cousin's bedside for the last few weeks of his life. He watched in concealed horror at medical procedures being conducted. He held his hand. He listened, and stayed for hours when closer relatives who drop-in for minutes. Most importantly, he told him the Good News of Jesus and the hope of the grace of God. On his last visit with only days of life left in his cousin's body, the dying man confessed that he desired God's forgiveness, that he believed in Jesus, and wanted him to save him. As the clock ticked past the eleventh hour in this man's life, he turned his face towards Jesus. (Now, I know that some of you feel very strongly about baptism as I do also, but like the theif on the cross, baptism was not quite practical -- much less possible -- in this case. So I hope that you do not miss the beauty of this story.)

I'd like to be there. I hope that I can be in that corner of Heaven when their eyes meet. I'd like to watch as this disciple of Jesus looks across the throne room and sees the grateful glow in the face of his cousin who only knew Jesus for a few short days. I'd like to watch, and I know that it is Heaven, but I can't imagine it with dry eyes.

No one can tell me that new Christians must simply sit and our feet and absorb our great wisdom. It is pretty difficult to argue with the evidence of lives being transformed in such a way. God is Lord of the harvest, and if we will ask, seek, and knock in order to discover workers, we will find those who will lead us where we, ourselves, were afraid to go.