It makes sense to me for great advances to be met with great opposition, for heroic action to be met by trouble and even pain. Paying a price to stand up for Jesus, at least in abstraction, is a glorious ideal.
This was a thread of one of the most memorable messages I have ever heard. It was at a college chapel when Dewey Bertolini, the professor for my Christian life and service class, wove a tale of pathos and suffering and utter devotion, telling the story of people who paid dearly to identify with Jesus. Against this grim backdrop he challenged us:
“Jesus stood in my place and took the shots that were meant for me. Now it’s my chance to stand in His place and take the shots that are meant for Him.”
Yesterday at lunch one of the boys popped off with an unexpected question—such a habit at our house that I should expect it by now.
“Is my body still in its prime,” he asked, “or is it starting to shut down?”
For protection of the innocent,