You just found out that you’re going to be a grandparent for the very first time-and it’s twins.
You just received a big, overdue promotion on your job.
You finally finished that grueling term paper for one of your toughest classes and the professor gave you an “A.”
You just found out you’re getting an unexpected, yet significant tax refund from the IRS.
Your son is coming home in a couple of weeks after an extended tour in Afghanistan.
Your daughter just got engaged to a faithful Christian young man and their wedding is in three months.
That worrisome tumor on your arm turned out to be benign and the doctor will excise it next week.
That dangerous storm front which forecasters said was headed your way has moved off to the north and dissipated.
You just caught a massive redfish down on the coast, or you shot that big whitetail you’ve been after for a couple of years.
You just got a hole-in-one at the local golf club.
Good news!
We love good news. We love telling good news.
I’ve come to the conclusion that one of the main reasons we derive so much pleasure from sharing good news is not only because it gives us yet another personal occasion to re-live all of the joy over again, but because we get to see how our friends and loved ones react when they initially hear the announcement.
They respond, often times, with the same excitement and fervor we did.
Which leads me to a couple, hopefully, sobering questions.
If we’re so anxious to tell others about things like babies and bucks, why aren’t we just as anxious to share the best news of all?
Why are we hesitant, maybe even resistant, brethren, about telling people about God’s great love for them through his precious Son, Jesus Christ? That’s really good news (Luke 2:8ff; Isaiah 52:7)!
People keep secrets, but they share good news.
Here’s my point: Good news, if you think about it, really isn’t good news until we share it. Evangelism really isn’t evangelism until we say something.
Brother-sister, when was the last time you shared The Good News with another?
— by Mike Benson