When I was a little girl, I heard a Sunday School lesson about how we as Christians are like undercover agents in a foreign country sent into an unfamiliar land-- not to be like the inhabitants of the culture, but to be on duty, faithfully serving our homeland. In my overly imaginative, eight-year-old mind, I pictured myself weaving in and out of the trees at school in a trench coat and sunglasses watching all the "foreigners" going about their lives, waiting for my opportunity to slip in and deliver a secret message without being caught. I am pretty sure that this is not what the teacher had in mind when she was giving us a lesson from 1 Peter about being "foreigners in a strange land" or the instruction from 2 Timothy to not become "entangled in civilian pursuits." Regardless, something was lost in translation between her theologically sound instruction and my hyper-imaginative interpretation.
The problem with this is that the same little girl in a trench coat and sunglasses, eager to dart in and out with the secret message about who Jesus is, didn't understand that that no one was telling her to hide who she was or to hide the message she had been given. I spent a substantial amount of my jr. high and high school years waiting for someone to come ask me about the message I had for them, but no one ever seemed to come. I was doing far too good of a job disguising myself "for the sake of the mission." After all, no one would ever want to hear what the overly outspoken Christian had to say, right? So I did my best to live undercover figuring someday someone would see through the civilian disguise and ask me about my true identity.
The fact is that my high school friends didn't need an undercover Christian, nor were they in any position to be expected to see past my civilian disguise. They needed someone they could go to when things got really bad. They needed a beacon of hope who could point them toward dry land in the midst of the storm. My friends needed to know that there was something different about me that was available to them too, and that they could ask me about it and I would share the not-so-secret secret.
The fact is that my friends now don't need an undercover Christian, either. Neither do yours. The chances are slim that if you continue to go about your day-to-day routine (which looks no different than the routine of your co-workers or peers) no one is going to come up to you in the office and ask what is different about you, because the answer will be nothing. What both my friends and your friends need are men and women who stand like a tower in the midst of the battle offering a place of refuge from the crossfire. What our friends need are men and women who stick out like sore thumbs, offering a reason for the hope we have to all who have need of hope. What our friends need are uncovered, out in the open, followers of Christ who reflect the image of him who has called us according to our purpose.
Friends, our friends are hurting; our culture is pained; our world needs answers. Now is not the time for undercover Christianity.
