God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called.
Think about what I just said. Or typed, rather.
God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called. Max Lucado brought that into my life last night and it’s been spinning around ever since. He doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called.
That means I don’t have to be great. I don’t even have to be good. I just have to be ready to stand for a divine purpose, which I am and was created to be. All I have to do is be ready. Ready to answer when God asks me a question.
Probably one along the lines of, “Will you fight for me?” Or, Will you stand for me? Will you go out into the world and share my truth? Will you turn down every easy opportunity and be ready to take the road of mass resistance that leads to Higher Ground in the end? And if I answer yes, God will equip me with everything I need to get that job done. That means, I simply have to be willing.
Willing to stand, walk, crawl, run, fight, thirst, hunger, or tire. I have to be willing to be unpopular. To be unfriended. To piss, for lack of a better word, people off. To speak what I feel in my heart– even when it doesn’t coincide with what other feels in theirs.
Even when my truth makes me an unlikely party guest, will I express it anyway?
God doesn’t call the qualified, as many “Christians” would lead us to believe. We aren’t selectively God’s children. He didn’t pick just those that He likes best. He died for the black, as well as He did the white. And if I am to do what I just mentioned above— spew my truth even if it makes me an unlikely party guest– I must say this: Jesus, Himself wasn’t no white man. And anybody who tells you He was is…well, confused on Biblical geography, to say the least.
God, like Jerry Maguire, loves black people. God loves the homosexuals as much as He loves those who practice gluttony. He doesn’t decipher between sins, deciding which is worse and which is socially acceptable. He loves us all the same. He even loves the Denver Broncos’ secondary defense, which– I admit, I have a hard time doing right now myself.
But, He does. He just loves. He never promised that my walk with Him would be easy. He never said: “Candi, proclaim to the world that you love your Higher Power and I’ll make you a superstar.” He never said that.
He never said I wouldn’t struggle, hurt, be left, or find myself alone. He never promised I wouldn’t be persecuted, or prosecuted– in fact, He almost assured that I would. And I have been. And will continue to be. He just promised that if I walk in faith, if I praise His name, if I keep my eyes on Him, eventually, He’ll bring it all around. Basically, it wlll all be okay in the end. Anything I will have forfeited, he will refund. Anything that has broken, He will restore. Anything that I have lost, He will help me find again.
Weeping may endure for a night. He never promised that it wouldn’t. But, He also told me joy comes in the a.m. My weeping may be long in our terms of “night” and that stretch of tears may be measured in His day, but however long— I’ll endure. Because He promises the joy at the end. And I believe. I believe.
Now, if only those playing safety and cornerback in the Mile High Stadium wearing the orange and blue would have believed me when I shouted at the screen, “Cover Deep!”….well, this might have been an entirely different post. God just reminded me through a heart-breaking overtime defeat, that no, we don’t always get our way. Dang it.
Originally written in January, 2013, and posted here.