Desperate

My amazing wife Trish and I were talking the other day, and I asked her, why aren't we desperate for Him? 

Trish said, "People aren't desperate for Jesus because they aren't desperate."

That statement has been rattling around in my head ever since.

A couple of months ago, I was having lunch with a friend from church. He told me about being at a large event with his family. There were vendors, music, food, and thousands of people spread across a huge field.

At some point he realized he couldn't find his wife and youngest child.

At first he wasn't worried. He looked around casually, assuming he'd spot them in a few minutes.

Thirty minutes passed.

Then an hour.

He searched everywhere.

That's when concern became desperation.

Eventually he found them. When he finally caught up to his wife, he took her arm and said, "I've been desperate to find you."

That word stopped me.

Desperate.

Not interested.

Not curious.

Not occasionally checking in.

Desperate.

And it made me wonder:

When was the last time I was desperate for Jesus?

Not thankful for Him.

Not appreciative of Him.

Not intellectually convinced of Him.

Desperate for Him.

The answer is uncomfortable.

Most of us don't come to Jesus because we need Him. We come to Him because we've run out of alternatives.

As long as the marriage is intact, the paycheck clears, the doctor gives a decent report, and the kids are doing okay, we convince ourselves we're doing just fine.

We pray a little.

Read a little.

Attend church when it's convenient.

And then we get back to managing our lives.

The problem isn't that we don't believe in Jesus.

The problem is that we don't believe we need Him.

Not really.

The reality is that desperation isn't always a curse.

Sometimes it's a gift.

I know of children in Uganda and the Congo who go to sleep with mattresses over their heads because they're afraid of what the night might bring. Children who don't know if breakfast will be waiting for them when they wake up.

Yet they sing.

They dance.

They worship with a joy that can be difficult to explain.

Why?

Because they know something many of us have forgotten.

They are desperate for Jesus.

I've met men sitting in prison cells with convictions that guarantee they'll never live anywhere else. No future plans. No retirement account. No second chance.

Yet some of them possess a depth of faith and dependence on Christ that leaves the rest of us humbled.

Why?

Because they are desperate for Jesus.

Recently, I heard about a woman who was devastated because the contract fell through on the house she wanted. Her disappointment was real. Anyone who has watched a dream disappear understands that feeling.  

But it made me wonder:

Who is actually better off?

The person whose circumstances force them to cling to Jesus every day?

Or the person whose comfort allows them to believe they don't have to?

We spend much of our lives asking God to remove or avoid the very things that make us desperate for Him.

Yet Scripture, history, and experience all seem to point to the same uncomfortable truth:

Comfort rarely produces dependence.

Need does.

We talk about Jesus being all we need, but our lives often reveal what we actually believe.

We trust our bank accounts, our abilities, our experience, our plans, our intelligence, and our strength.

As long as those things appear to be working, we convince ourselves that we're doing just fine.

Then when they fail, we suddenly become desperate for God.

Here's the truth:

The cancer diagnosis didn't create your desperation.

The job loss didn't create your desperation.

The broken relationship didn't create your desperation.

They simply exposed it.

You were already desperate.

You just didn't know it.

Every breath you take is borrowed.

Every heartbeat is sustained by God.

Everything you have can disappear far faster than you imagine.

The self-sufficiency we cling to is an illusion.

We are not independent.

We are simply unaware of how dependent we really are.

Perhaps the greatest danger isn't hardship.

Perhaps the greatest danger is having just enough money, just enough health, just enough success, and just enough comfort to convince ourselves that we don't need Jesus today quite as much as we did yesterday.

The children in Uganda know they need Him.

The prisoner in his cell knows he needs Him.

The person crushed by a diagnosis knows she needs Him.

The desperate often know what the comfortable forget.

That Jesus is not a supplement to life.

He is life.

And maybe God's greatest mercy is not removing our desperation.

Maybe His greatest mercy is helping us finally see it.

Because the truth is that we've never needed Him more than we do right now.

And that's why my friend's story has stayed with me.

He wasn't casually looking for his wife and child.

He was desperate to find them.

When was the last time we pursued Jesus that way?

Not because life was falling apart.

Not because we had exhausted every other option.

But because we finally understood what has always been true.

Apart from Him, we have nothing.

Without Him, we can do nothing.

And every second of every day, whether we realize it or not, we desperately need Him.

People aren't desperate for Jesus because they aren't desperate.

Or at least they don't know they are.

Yet.

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