The Call

In those rare times when all the world around me seems to wind to a stop, I strain to hear Your still, small voice. And as my mind and heart become attuned to the silence, I wait in anticipation, longing to know Your will for me. It is in those quiet moments that a solemn sound, faintly carried on the wind, begins to rise in my ears. Indiscernible at first, little more than a whimper, but as my willing heart struggles to focus on the sound, it begins to become clear. It is the cry of empty hearts, searching for meaning in a world that offers them material abundance, but spiritual poverty. Here in my Jerusalem, my neighbors, co-workers, and friends find little satisfaction in their “pursuit of happiness.” They are crying out for a vibrant, enthusiastic, unexplainably joyous brand of Christianity that will sate the hunger in their famished hearts.


And yet another moaning cry is heard from beyond the dim circle of light cast by my personal witness. It is the call of poverty and injustice within the inner cities of our nation. This is a battle field that has been all but abandoned by a church that has focused on growth targets and demographics. All the while, the chains of spiritual bondage tighten slowly around the necks of the addicts and the drunks and the prostitutes who populate our Judea and Samaria. None could lay a more valid claim to the title of “the least of these.” They are begging for someone to have compassion, to pull them from the fire, and to convince them that there is One who can offer them forgiveness, and Who has the power to set them free from their spiritual chains.

The groaning souls of lost mankind, men, women and children of every tribe and tongue, seem to whisper in my ear, “Why haven’t you told us of this glorious Savior Who is our only hope?” For this, my heart has no answer. How can I reach the uttermost parts of the earth when I am so feeble and weak? Their mournful cries become a deafening cacophony in my ears, filling me with remorse, compassion, and deep desire to make things right. It is only then that the silence returns and the still small voice of Jesus, speaks clearly to my heart. “Go ye…,” He commands, and for the first time, I hear and obey.

Pastor Marty Hughes