The Bridge -- oddly enough, a reflection I had AT the Bridge

     Sitting in church today, I had this thought: Are we really, genuinely willing to die for Christ in America, in our big, suburban churches, with our huge, spectacular worship teams, our comfortable chairs and air conditioning? 

     Do we need to become the persecuted church in order to live out our faith with the same passion and intensity that is found in the persecuted church? Less is asked of us here; maybe that's why it's so hard for me to look at church sometimes. I've been taught that you generally get what you pay for (unless you're just paying for a name). Is a faith that costs me less really the faith that I'm supposed to take hold of? 

     This is my conclusion: I don't know if I would actually die for Christ. I'm ready and willing and committed to laying down my former life; I'm in process of that. As for whether or not I would physically suffer and die for Christ in service and devotion to my Abba, I just really don't know. I hope I would; I think that staying on this path I'm on is enough right now. I guess we'll cross that bridge if and when we get there. In the meantime, walking the path is necessary, because you have to take the path to get to the bridge, right? So for now, I'm living in the moment, committed to walking on.