by Marilynn Chadwick
...Continued from yesterday:
How could I get my arms around such a huge nation as the Sudan? I decided to pray for a random man and called him “Sudan Sam.” The Sudan now had a face. A door eventually opened for me to travel with a humanitarian coalition to deliver survival kits to women and children forced to flee their village near the Darfur region of Sudan. The suffering we encountered was unthinkable. Pastors told of the rape and torture of Christians; some had been crucified. Yet, for over two decades, the eyes of the world had been elsewhere.
During the journey, my husband and I grew fond of our Sudanese interpreter. A survivor of the brutal war, Zaki was the son of the first Christian convert in the region. I casually mentioned I had been praying specifically for the Sudan and had even nicknamed someone “Sudan Sam.” Zaki look startled and blurted, “That’s me. I am Sudan Sam! My name is Zaki Samwiil” (Arabic for Samuel), he cried excitedly. “My father was also Samuel. There’s a book about his life called Samwiil of Sudan!” Zaki and I practically laughed and cried. Suddenly, the earth seemed very small. How could God’s love be so large as to inspire specific prayer for a specific man in such a remote region?
Suddenly the practice of Christology was not just about having sound doctrine about Jesus—it meant walking as one guided by his Holy Spirit. “Zaki,” I said quietly, “can you believe that halfway around the world, God alerted me to pray for you by name before we ever met?” We sensed the almost tangible presence of Christ that day, certain of God’s deep love for us both.
Did Jesus really make a spectacle of the defeated powers of darkness, “triumphing over them by the cross” (Colossians 2:15)? If we believe this is true, our prayers should have the winning edge. Paul exhorts us to pray in the Spirit of battle (Ephesians 6:18). A vibrant Christology empowers warrior-like prayers that move us boldly into forgotten and dangerous places. If we are listening to the Spirit of Jesus, he will invite us into the realm of missional living consistent with his own mission. “My food,” he said, “is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work” (John 4:34 NIV). “As the father has sent me, so I send you” (John 20:21 NRSV).
When the doctrine of Christology is practiced rightly, our prayer and our serving become inseparable. A healthy Christology affects everything about our life of faith. We pray with the mind of Christ. The things that break his heart break ours. A robust Christology also prods us to grow in faith and gratitude. We become a living witness to others who may be searching for the Jesus they have never known.
Our Christology impacts our prayer life—which then empowers our serving—which then bears fruit for eternity. Redeemed humanity. It’s what Jesus told us he wanted most. It’s the reason for his suffering on the Cross and for his Resurrection. Is our practice of Christology a “So what?” or a “So that!”? Could a weak Christology be partially to blame for our sometimes-anemic results in prayer?
Through prayer, God draws us near as dearly loved children. We become part of the “family mission”—fearlessly treading into the darkest of places. Jesus’s mission is the scandal of the cross. But earth’s messiness did not stop God, nor should it stop us.
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A part of today's Daily Moment of Hope is adapted from Sometimes He Whispers Sometimes He Roars by Marilynn Chadwick.
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