I think you’ll have to agree with me that those guys aren’t living life casually or with security in mind!  They have literally gone off the edge!

How close to the edge are you living? 

How close to the edge are you willing to get?  There is real danger here, so don’t answer flippantly or too quickly.

I remember our family trip to the Grand Canyon.  What a spectacular place!  From the top of a Canyon wall, my wife leaned against a guard rail, looked down at the Colorado River running through the floor of the Canyon and said, “I thought that River would be a lot bigger.”  Of course the river was “a lot bigger,” but from her place high on the Canyon wall the Colorado River looked very small.  

I can’t tell on her without telling you that I couldn’t see the Colorado River from where I was standing.  One has to get rather close to the edge to see what she saw.  So, while she may have had a blond moment, at least she can say she saw the Colorado River from the observation deck of the Grand Canyon. 

For Jesus living on the edge meant incarnation, becoming like those He came to save.  It meant identification, being with those He came to save.  He didn’t commute from heaven to earth. He didn’t isolate himself from sinners.  No, He ate with them, slept among them, worked next to them, loved them and died in their stead.  He bore the burdens his fellows carried.  He took upon himself the challenge of their economic system and the challenge of being oppressed by the Romans.  He connected with humanity in the tough, dark and sinful places, yet without being sinful.  

For Damien, a Belgian missionary who went to Hawaii about 150 years ago, living on the edge also meant being with those he sought to reach.  He began by planting churches on the island of Molokai.  After planting several churches on the main part of the island, he was informed of a part of the island no one ever went to, willingly.  It was a small peninsula that jutted out north from the island and was departed from the rest of Molokai by 2,500 foot cliff.  The only ways to get to the peninsula were to jump off the cliff or go by boat in the open ocean; one being about as dangerous as the other.  That peninsula was where the Hawaiians abandoned all their lepers.  If you got leprosy in Hawaii, you were taken to and left on this peninsula.  Damien felt a call to the people that inhabited that peninsula, so he went there and worked there just as he had done on the rest of the island.  With his own hands he built a church there and helped the lepers build houses for themselves and a community.  He didn’t visit them, he lived among them and served them in any way he could.  One day, after he had been there for some 15 years, he was cooking a meal and boiling some water when he spilled the water on his foot, but there was no pain.  So he tried again.  He purposely poured the boiling water on his foot, but again there was no pain.  This could mean only one thing.  He now had leprosy.  The next Sunday in church as he began to lead the people in worship, he didn’t give his usual greeting.  Instead of saying, “My fellow believers,” he declared, “My fellow lepers.”  He had in every way become one of them.

Damien lived on the edge and some may even say he went over the edge.  I wonder what those loved and served by Damien would say?

How close to the edge are you living?

How close to the edge are you willing to get? 

Living on the edge can be costly, which is why I caution you not to answer those questions too quickly.

I’m not suggesting base jumping or living with lepers.  What I am suggesting is a life that abandons casual Christianity in favor of off the edge obedience to the will of God. 

And your answer is…