martyr: from the Greek, martys,
One who brings a testimony
We've all seen courtroom dramas on TV. The witness is placed on the stand, sworn to tell the truth, and then testifies to what he has seen, or heard, or done. The Greek word for that is martys, 'one who bring testimony.' In church history, being a witness often meant exposing oneself to danger or persecution. So martys gradually took on the additional meaning of one who suffers violence or even death for the sake of his testimony, or faith.
The western church must have a better witness: a bigger testimony than our evangelism campaigns; more compelling than our tithes and offerings; louder than our conferences; more sincere than our worship services; more erudite than our scholarship and books; and better delivered than our sermons. The American church has yet to witness effectively with her life. She has yet to bleed with the world-wide, suffering church. She has yet to witness as Jesus did. Her resistance to the world has been of a more comfortable sort, tempered by her secret enjoyment of it. We like being saved, while retaining our place at the world's table (such tasty and satisfying morsels).
Jesus suffered the loss of everything: reputation, comfort, status, glory, life. He has said that those who are His disciples can expect the same. Honestly, I'd prefer the glory without the crucible first, but passing through the dark night is the only path into the glorious day we've been promised. I'm pretty sure there isn't an air-conditioned, American coach that detours around it. There is one Church, not one for us and another for those poor unfortunates in other parts of the world, who are obviously less blessed of God. I've known the joy of God's presence; the joy of abundance, of peace and quiet; the joy of fellowship. But I have to say that I do not know the joy of unbelievers seeing Christ so evident in my life that they must either fall at His feet in worship or declare themselves the open enemy of God.
We've testified with our mouths that Jesus is better and the world mostly yawns. But when Christian lives completely align with that testimony, the world takes a second look. Going to church is unremarkable. Going to prison is noticed. The testimony of the persecuted church is the most powerful witness of all. God is glorified and His kingdom advanced. Souls are saved. In a world languishing in the dark, people clinging to Jesus as everything is shaken are radiant lights. People have big questions. Men and women who've experienced Jesus as their only hope and treasure, have the answer.
For decades we've prayed for revival. We've begged for a return of the book of Acts. We've asked for the Great Harvest, as well we should. What if true revival only comes in the midst of persecution? What if a massive outpouring of the Spirit is accompanied by disdain and loss and sorrow? What if the Great Harvest is given as everything else is taken away? What if liberty in the Spirit is accompanied by loss of civil liberties? What if the 'more of God' we've begged for comes with less of everything else we hold dear? What if I were asked to give, not out of my abundance but out of poverty? Something to think about. Something to pray about. We long for a season of sharing all things in common and breaking bread in one another's homes...the book of Acts come again. The book of Acts also had foreign occupation, limited civil rights, persecution and risk of arrest and death.
Loving Jesus from the safety of our comfortable American lives will never speak as loudly or as compellingly as loving Jesus from the place of danger, persecution and lack. The world has rejected a sanitized, powerless Jesus, but is dying to hear about a Jesus worth dying for...the real Jesus. I believe we are headed into a season in which we will have our chance. Whether we will embrace or reject it remains to be seen. I am asking that He move among us once more, revealing the amazing, glorious, powerful, all-sufficient Jesus. Worth living for. Worth dying for. Worth giving everything in order to have. I am asking and asking and asking again, until the words of the song are not just words, but reality. Give me Jesus, Give me Jesus, You can have all this world, But give me Jesus. I openly confess that I am not there, but I am begging God to make me ready, to make me willing--even to make me willing to be willing to go with Him wherever He takes me. Where else could I go?
Peter replied, “Master, to whom would we go? You have