February 5th, '18
rights reserved © message by Kris Jackson
us go into the next towns that I may preach there also: for therefore came I
forth" (Mark 1:38)
"Through my nose again, I just can't wait to
sing through my nose again..." That is how one comic here in Branson sings his
impression of the nasal Willie Nelson. Hey dude, it's "road again" not "nose
again". The preacher's itch is to "get on the road again". I love the open
road. This week it is tracking the Colorado River from its Continental Divide
source 650 miles to Vegas then Y-ing off I-15 to Southern Cal, six meetings in
the trip, one in Denver, population an easy million adding suburbs, another in Naturita,
population 434 adding hunting dogs and stray cougars. I don't care "where" as
long as it is "there", as Jesus said, "that I may preach there also". We'll
take a four-wheel drive ride in the Rockies, golf at Bakersfield, maybe take a
beach walk at Santa Barbara and eat my favorite breakfast in the whole U.S.
at the train depot in Grand Junction. Evangelists can't wait to get on the road
again partly because of the change of scenery.
But the main reason we get fidgety staying very
long in one place is because of a burden. Jesus didn't allow grass to grow
under His feet. Let's go to the "next towns" was His constant yearning, "that I
may preach there also". Jesus was a preacher and preachers love to preach.
Isn't that a revelation? We didn't choose to preach like someone chooses to
open a suit shop or manage a motel. Paul said he preached because "necessity is
laid upon me; yea, woe is unto me if I preach not the gospel!" (1 Corinthians
11:16) He could sooner shake his shadow than his calling.
The "gospel of Christ...is the power of God unto
salvation" (Romans 1:16). That is the real cause of the itch. Once you've seen
God's power in operation, the power that transforms men from darkness to light,
from sinners to winners, it is a little hard getting excited about college
hoops or the next episode of American Idol.
Three nights are scheduled in Arvin,
California. Do you know where that is? Five miles east of Weed Patch, ten miles
from Pumpkin Center. I don't know why they call them that. It's the San
Joaquin Valley; they must grow weeds and pumpkins there. I know they have
dynamite oranges. And I'll visit Ojai again, what a quaint hub for artists,
just up the hill from Ventura. But the "itch" has nothing to do with Valley
oranges or Ojai art shops. I want to see eyes brighten with hope on this trip.
I want to see a repeat of what happened in a small Missouri church two weeks
ago. It snowed there on Sunday so the crowd was lousy. Monday the roads iced,
it was worse. Tuesday things thawed some but still everyone stayed home. So the
last night, Wednesday, I thought to myself, "I really don't feel like driving
fifty miles over there to preach to a handful of people that really aren't that
interested anyway". That was my flesh talking. Arriving that Wednesday night
teenage kids were coming out of the woodwork. I didn't give a talk or a
fireside chat. I "preached" and sixteen young people came forward, said the
sinner's prayer and gave their hearts to Christ. Aren't the angels glad I
didn't listen to my flesh and stay home that night? The preacher's itch is
spiritual, not fleshly. We go because we got to go, no, better yet,
because we get to go. The greatest privilege in the world is to get
to go to the next towns. So, if preachers tend to drive fast there is a
logical reason for it, a mission. If you're coming along strap on your belt and
hold on tight, we might be headed for the ride of our lives.