A few weeks ago I preached a sermon on my church to remind us all of the powerhouse of promises given to us in the psalm of protection, Psalm 91. Hope you'll listen in and comment!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Church Internship 101
"Your job," she said, "is to know Jesus."
I stared back at the Skype screen on my computer and nodded. Forget teaching Sunday School and giving morning announcements in two services, counseling with new believers and the hurting, planning our church's annual fall festival, or preparing for a Sunday night sermon.
My job: to know Jesus.
All else would flow out from there, my mentor said, from her perch in the UK, where she was working on her doctoral dissertation. If I would spend time with him each day, she said, I'd be OK no matter what came. And come it did.
In the first week of the internship, my mother-in-law passed away. We were making almost daily trips while she was under hospice care, we were there when she peacefully passed, and I was commissioned to help with the funeral. The same weekend she died, I gave announcements at church for the first time and delivered the details of her funeral arrangements to the congregation. "God will provide," my mother-in-law, Laura, had a way of saying, and so I clung to that.
A few weeks later, after the fall festival was mercifully wrapped up and the many details of the church's 75th anniversary service were behind us, our senior pastor delivered a stunning blow: he and his associate pastor wife (my mentor) were being appointed as district superintendents in our denomination, one state over. The final confirmation came a week and a half later as the staff mourned and hoped for a change of mind as they prayed together. No change came.
Last Sunday, the congregation found out as Pastor Chuck delivered the news with great tenderness and some pain in his voice. After a collective gasp, I heard people crying. I have never known a pastor with a higher shepherding gift. This couple have modeled tenderness with the broken and hurting, and as they are called on to other things, there is a collective "Why Lord?" and an understanding that God does not always tell us why. Instead, God simply offers us intimacy with himself.
I tried to focus on that as I walked into my mentor's Sunday School class after the news was given. I looked at the loss on their faces and the questions in their hearts, and all I could really do was offer up the psalm we turned to, psalm 46: "God is an ever-present help in trouble."
My job: to know Jesus.
This week at the church another stunning blow. A faithful woman of God who was in prayer meeting just last week and plans the funeral dinners for our congregation, developed a brain aneurysm and died. Still young, leaving a husband behind and two children, her absence creates a void that makes our heads spin and our hearts cry, "Why Lord??"
My job: to know Jesus.
Perhaps all of this is par-for-the-course in ministry: upheaval, tremendous loss, deep pain, questioning, feeling hurt and burdened for those left behind. Or perhaps there is something more at work here, and God longs to show me his strength perfected in my weakness. I am reeling, seeking rest, clinging to my Savior's promises, and remembering his track record in times of struggle. I stand in need of His grace, just as each one of us does.
My job is to know Him, the Savior who died and lived for me, who is seated at the Father's right hand, and who intercedes for me. What a blessed promise. And now, I'm about to wrap up this blog post and open my Bible and journal, so I can get back to my job. He is waiting for me. And by the way, He's waiting for you, too.
No matter your occupation, is your #1 job to know Jesus, believing all else will flow out from there? Do times of great struggle push you into the arms of Jesus--or away from him?
I stared back at the Skype screen on my computer and nodded. Forget teaching Sunday School and giving morning announcements in two services, counseling with new believers and the hurting, planning our church's annual fall festival, or preparing for a Sunday night sermon.
My job: to know Jesus.
All else would flow out from there, my mentor said, from her perch in the UK, where she was working on her doctoral dissertation. If I would spend time with him each day, she said, I'd be OK no matter what came. And come it did.
In the first week of the internship, my mother-in-law passed away. We were making almost daily trips while she was under hospice care, we were there when she peacefully passed, and I was commissioned to help with the funeral. The same weekend she died, I gave announcements at church for the first time and delivered the details of her funeral arrangements to the congregation. "God will provide," my mother-in-law, Laura, had a way of saying, and so I clung to that.
A few weeks later, after the fall festival was mercifully wrapped up and the many details of the church's 75th anniversary service were behind us, our senior pastor delivered a stunning blow: he and his associate pastor wife (my mentor) were being appointed as district superintendents in our denomination, one state over. The final confirmation came a week and a half later as the staff mourned and hoped for a change of mind as they prayed together. No change came.
Last Sunday, the congregation found out as Pastor Chuck delivered the news with great tenderness and some pain in his voice. After a collective gasp, I heard people crying. I have never known a pastor with a higher shepherding gift. This couple have modeled tenderness with the broken and hurting, and as they are called on to other things, there is a collective "Why Lord?" and an understanding that God does not always tell us why. Instead, God simply offers us intimacy with himself.
I tried to focus on that as I walked into my mentor's Sunday School class after the news was given. I looked at the loss on their faces and the questions in their hearts, and all I could really do was offer up the psalm we turned to, psalm 46: "God is an ever-present help in trouble."
My job: to know Jesus.
This week at the church another stunning blow. A faithful woman of God who was in prayer meeting just last week and plans the funeral dinners for our congregation, developed a brain aneurysm and died. Still young, leaving a husband behind and two children, her absence creates a void that makes our heads spin and our hearts cry, "Why Lord??"
My job: to know Jesus.
Perhaps all of this is par-for-the-course in ministry: upheaval, tremendous loss, deep pain, questioning, feeling hurt and burdened for those left behind. Or perhaps there is something more at work here, and God longs to show me his strength perfected in my weakness. I am reeling, seeking rest, clinging to my Savior's promises, and remembering his track record in times of struggle. I stand in need of His grace, just as each one of us does.
My job is to know Him, the Savior who died and lived for me, who is seated at the Father's right hand, and who intercedes for me. What a blessed promise. And now, I'm about to wrap up this blog post and open my Bible and journal, so I can get back to my job. He is waiting for me. And by the way, He's waiting for you, too.
No matter your occupation, is your #1 job to know Jesus, believing all else will flow out from there? Do times of great struggle push you into the arms of Jesus--or away from him?
Monday, August 29, 2011
Beautifully flawed
I was reading Donald Miller's blog the other day, and I read his post Learning to Love Your Flaws, and I felt my soul take a deep, cleansing breath. It felt like an inaudible sigh of relief, actually.
Don posted a picture of himself--150 lbs. heavier--and talked about the value of flaws. I especially liked this sentence:
"It's true we impress people with our supposed perfections, but we connect with each other in our flaws." -Donald Miller
I am a person of contradictions, you see. Those who meet me dressed up on Sunday mornings often view me as solid, put-together, and eloquent. (At least that's what they tell me.) Then I change my clothes in the evening and proceed to a Bible study for women in recovery where brutal honesty is the rule of the day and brokenness is a gateway to freedom.
I don't look very perfect there, as I share battle-wounds from my bouts of depression and anxiety, what it's like to trust God with a daily physical challenge in my right leg that limits my activities, how heartbreaking loss pushes me into the arms of my Savior, and the tug-of-war I experienced as I strove to live sexually pure as an unmarried Christian.
In both settings, Jesus is the answer. My struggle, then, is how to be more honest--and yes, more flawed--in a church setting, how to let people see that I don't have it all together while sharing with them the life-changing truth of the gospel of Christ. I look at the example of our Savior, and I see that he was the same as he overturned tables in the temple, as he talked with the Samaritan woman, as he healed the masses, fed the 5,000, and delivered the Sermon on the Mount.
He was the same, yet he talked directly to those he ministered to, meeting them at their point of need. I can't say that Jesus was flawed, but I do know that he was human. My challenge, then, is rejecting perfectionism to embrace brokenness, letting the weight of my personality breathe in whatever situation I am in, and letting the love of Christ flow through me--and through my imperfections. As grace seeps in and changes me, I want to find joy in living beautifully flawed.
How do you believe God views your flaws? Do you hide them--or celebrate them?
Don posted a picture of himself--150 lbs. heavier--and talked about the value of flaws. I especially liked this sentence:
"It's true we impress people with our supposed perfections, but we connect with each other in our flaws." -Donald Miller
I am a person of contradictions, you see. Those who meet me dressed up on Sunday mornings often view me as solid, put-together, and eloquent. (At least that's what they tell me.) Then I change my clothes in the evening and proceed to a Bible study for women in recovery where brutal honesty is the rule of the day and brokenness is a gateway to freedom.
I don't look very perfect there, as I share battle-wounds from my bouts of depression and anxiety, what it's like to trust God with a daily physical challenge in my right leg that limits my activities, how heartbreaking loss pushes me into the arms of my Savior, and the tug-of-war I experienced as I strove to live sexually pure as an unmarried Christian.
In both settings, Jesus is the answer. My struggle, then, is how to be more honest--and yes, more flawed--in a church setting, how to let people see that I don't have it all together while sharing with them the life-changing truth of the gospel of Christ. I look at the example of our Savior, and I see that he was the same as he overturned tables in the temple, as he talked with the Samaritan woman, as he healed the masses, fed the 5,000, and delivered the Sermon on the Mount.
He was the same, yet he talked directly to those he ministered to, meeting them at their point of need. I can't say that Jesus was flawed, but I do know that he was human. My challenge, then, is rejecting perfectionism to embrace brokenness, letting the weight of my personality breathe in whatever situation I am in, and letting the love of Christ flow through me--and through my imperfections. As grace seeps in and changes me, I want to find joy in living beautifully flawed.
How do you believe God views your flaws? Do you hide them--or celebrate them?
Thursday, August 18, 2011
The Gift of Presence: ministry with fewer words
I've been the "chaplain" at times, and now I'm the "pastoral intern," and what I am gathering in all of this is that I do not have the power to change a situation for someone. Only God has the power to change their perspective in it.
The gospel, the true hope of the world through the cross of Christ, has been packaged and taught in easy steps; it's been downsized and minimized into commitment-light; it's presentation is sometimes given with no thought for the physical and emotional welfare of the image-bearer who's receiving it. Some have even delivered it with a literal bullhorn.
In the past, I've been guilty of trying to make the gospel palatable--of trying to sell half-hearted Christianity to a soul who can't see how he could buy the whole package. Once when a friend sat across from me and told me he just couldn't believe in Christianity because he wasn't raised in a Christian home, I took his rejection of the gospel as a personal failure. As if my evangelistic fervor could have won him into the Kingdom. As if I, and not the Holy Spirit, woo people to faith in the Carpenter who turned the world upside down.
The truth is: I've made more than my share of blunders. Author Jerry Bridges was right: "Grace stands in direct opposition to any supposed worthiness on our part."
Jesus, the most eloquent truth-teller of all, delivered it first and foremost through the ministry of presence...followed by words of extraordinary significance. He was hanging out with the shady Samaritan woman, his feet were being anointed with oil by a female known for her sin, he ate with fraudulent tax collectors and broken prostitutes. The sick and diseased hung on him; the demons he cast off shrieked at his presence; those who touched the very edge of his garment went away rejoicing.
And when he did speak, when he did open his mouth, he tended toward stories and questions, parables and paradoxes. This was the upside-down Kingdom he ushered in. The last shall be first, the least of these are worthy of extraordinary kindness and generosity, the meek shall inherit the earth.
The way Jesus communicated goes against my natural bent, on so many levels. If I am talking to a young woman battling addiction about Jesus, and her eyes glaze over, I am tempted to talk faster and louder to see if she gets it. If I am counseling someone on entering a vibrant relationship with Christ, I am tempted to rush to the sinner's prayer, instead of helping this person understand the enormity of Jesus' love for them and the cost of following him. This goes against the very teachings of Jesus and his way of loving and engaging people with truth.
But I do not have to give in to my temptations. 1 Corinthians 10:13 says so.
The other day something out-of-the-ordinary happened that awakened me to how well I love. My neighbor of three years stopped by and offered words of comfort for us, as my mother-in-law is now in hospice care and will be gone soon. She was so understanding and kind and supportive, and before she left, she hugged me and said, "We love you guys." And I was caught off guard. Although this woman believes in God, she doesn't attend a church. I know her through "over-the-fence" conversations and a few backyard get-togethers.
But she has shared bulbs from her garden with me.
She has comforted me in my infertility.
She celebrates with me in my joys.
Her gift of presence has spoken volumes. Now her words mean something as well. This disciple of Jesus was moved by her kindness, her simple generosity.
What does the phrase "the gift of presence" mean to you? Do you tend to love others with many words or few words?
The gospel, the true hope of the world through the cross of Christ, has been packaged and taught in easy steps; it's been downsized and minimized into commitment-light; it's presentation is sometimes given with no thought for the physical and emotional welfare of the image-bearer who's receiving it. Some have even delivered it with a literal bullhorn.
In the past, I've been guilty of trying to make the gospel palatable--of trying to sell half-hearted Christianity to a soul who can't see how he could buy the whole package. Once when a friend sat across from me and told me he just couldn't believe in Christianity because he wasn't raised in a Christian home, I took his rejection of the gospel as a personal failure. As if my evangelistic fervor could have won him into the Kingdom. As if I, and not the Holy Spirit, woo people to faith in the Carpenter who turned the world upside down.
The truth is: I've made more than my share of blunders. Author Jerry Bridges was right: "Grace stands in direct opposition to any supposed worthiness on our part."
Jesus, the most eloquent truth-teller of all, delivered it first and foremost through the ministry of presence...followed by words of extraordinary significance. He was hanging out with the shady Samaritan woman, his feet were being anointed with oil by a female known for her sin, he ate with fraudulent tax collectors and broken prostitutes. The sick and diseased hung on him; the demons he cast off shrieked at his presence; those who touched the very edge of his garment went away rejoicing.
And when he did speak, when he did open his mouth, he tended toward stories and questions, parables and paradoxes. This was the upside-down Kingdom he ushered in. The last shall be first, the least of these are worthy of extraordinary kindness and generosity, the meek shall inherit the earth.
The way Jesus communicated goes against my natural bent, on so many levels. If I am talking to a young woman battling addiction about Jesus, and her eyes glaze over, I am tempted to talk faster and louder to see if she gets it. If I am counseling someone on entering a vibrant relationship with Christ, I am tempted to rush to the sinner's prayer, instead of helping this person understand the enormity of Jesus' love for them and the cost of following him. This goes against the very teachings of Jesus and his way of loving and engaging people with truth.
But I do not have to give in to my temptations. 1 Corinthians 10:13 says so.
The other day something out-of-the-ordinary happened that awakened me to how well I love. My neighbor of three years stopped by and offered words of comfort for us, as my mother-in-law is now in hospice care and will be gone soon. She was so understanding and kind and supportive, and before she left, she hugged me and said, "We love you guys." And I was caught off guard. Although this woman believes in God, she doesn't attend a church. I know her through "over-the-fence" conversations and a few backyard get-togethers.
But she has shared bulbs from her garden with me.
She has comforted me in my infertility.
She celebrates with me in my joys.
Her gift of presence has spoken volumes. Now her words mean something as well. This disciple of Jesus was moved by her kindness, her simple generosity.
What does the phrase "the gift of presence" mean to you? Do you tend to love others with many words or few words?
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Do women have full access to God?
 |
| Tertullian, 160-220 AD |
In this study, I talk a lot about Adam and Eve, and how their sin and rebellion led to our sin and rebellion. How things are broken, and how ever since that time, God has been reaching out to set our relationships right again. Our relationship with him, and our relationship with others.
I explained how in the Old Testament times, God set up a sacrificial system--people would bring animal sacrifices to atone for their sinfulness before a holy God, with the help of priests. But that all changed, I said, when Jesus came and became the sacrifice. Now the Bible says we can all be priests, we can all approach God directly (see 1 Peter 2:9).
At that moment, a young woman looked up and blurted out: "Women, too?"
Yes! I said, more loudly than was necessary, as my heart plummeted to the ground.
An author I respect, Sarah Sumner, wrote: "Church tradition says that women are by nature lower than men. Indeed, most of the church fathers promoted this traditional belief." And then she proceeds to back it up.
Tertullian, the man who coined the word "Trinity" in the history of Christianity and defended the doctrine of original sin, said this to women:
And do you not know that you are (each) an Eve? The sentence of God on this sex of yours lives in this age: the guilt must of necessity live too. You are the devil’s gateway: you are the unsealer of that (forbidden) tree: you are the first deserter of the divine law: you are she who persuaded him whom the devil was not valiant enough to attack. You destroyed so easily God’s image, man. On account of your desert—that is, death—even the Son of God had to die.Unfortunately, many other church fathers perpetuated the same nonsense. Augustine did not believe women were made in the image of God, but they could reflect his image...if they married. Thomas Aquinas said that women are dominated by sexual appetite and men are ruled by reason. And so it goes.
So, is it any wonder, centuries later, that a young woman sits down and says "Women, too?" when taught that we can approach God directly? Is it any wonder that she does not, at face value, accept what God has said in Genesis 1:27, that both men AND women are made in the very image of God? Is it any wonder that she, too, believes Eve singlehandedly ushered sin into the world? (Where, exactly, was Adam in all of this?)
Is it any wonder that she sees the female image-bearer of God as subpar, as dangerous, as someone who holds an inferior brain and a much inferior heart? It's no mystery why she believes these things, as they have insidiously trickled down through our churches, through the very people who confess to following and obeying Christ.
It's no mystery. But it is a shame. And it's high time to set the record straight. God's intention, when creating male and female as equals who would be his representatives on earth, was that all humans might share full access to him, a full relationship with him. We screwed that up, through sin, but Jesus offers a way to make it right again. He loves us, pursues us, and empowers us to service in his Kingdom--whether we are an Adam or an Eve. Blessedly, there is no double standard with God. Ladies, we have a full access pass.
(Quotes from Sumner, Sarah (2003). Men and Women in the Church: Building Consensus on Christian Leadership (pp. 40-41). Intervarsity Press. Kindle Edition.)
Self-test: do you somehow feel that women are inferior to men in the Christian faith--even if you know the Bible says differently? In your opinion, what should the church do to help women see themselves as God sees them?
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The "holy" no: saying no for the Kingdom of God
I don't like to say no. I'd rather be a yes-woman, a sure-I-can-do-that woman, an I-am-competent-trust me with-that kind of person.
But as my new friend Brenda reminded me this week, Jesus himself used the "holy no" for reasons his disciples often failed to understand. Read on to feel the gravity of Jesus' refusal as portrayed in the gospel of Mark.
That night, Jesus had lovingly entered the home of Simon's mother-in-law, who was ill with fever. He healed her, and all the people who came after her, casting our their evil spirits. And after this late-night healing session and what must have been a short night of sleep...
"...rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed" (Mark 1:35)
This was Jesus' normal modus of operandi, praying early in the morning in desolate places, and so his disciples went searching for him. His popularity was booming, so they notified him that "Everyone is looking for you."
And Jesus said "no." A "holy no" we find between the lines...in what he didn't actually say at all. He said "Let us go on to the next towns, that I may preach there also, for that is why I came out" (Mark 1:38).
Yes, that was his response. Leaving behind what were likely hundreds of people who desperately wanted a touch from him, he moved on. Why? I ask myself. Why did Jesus leave behind the hurting and the deluded, those who also desired healing and truth, those who desperately wanted to see him?
As Jesus prayed to the Father, he gained direction for his life. He knew his purpose, and fulfilling that purpose necessarily involved limits. It involved saying no to good things so he could say yes to God's plan being revealed through him.
So he could do the best things.
If you believe the Bible and want to live by it, you too must discover how to say the "holy no." Like you, I have been entrusted with spiritual gifts and opportunities in which to use them. But they will not be effectively used to advance God's Kingdom if those gifts are spread too thin...if I take them where I want to take them instead of where the Holy Spirit guides me to use them through prayer and meditation.
Let me be completely honest: I have been given the spiritual gifts of teaching/preaching, encouragement, and leadership. If an opportunity presents itself in which I am called to serve outside of these areas of giftedness or in which I will be stretched beyond my limits...I need to seriously consider whether that is God's will for me. If that is how I can best build up the body of Christ and draw others to know and love Jesus. I need to embrace God's unique calling on my life, or I will soon be derailed by saying an "unholy yes" and failing to contribute to advancing God's Kingdom in the ways in which he has asked me to.
I have been derailed before. But with God's help, and as I listen to the Spirit in prayer, I am learning to say the "holy no." I want, like Jesus, to look back at the end of my life and say honestly, "I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do" (John 17:4 NIV).
No more. No less.
Do you struggle with saying no? What things are you currently saying "yes" to in your life? Do they align with your gifts and limits?
That night, Jesus had lovingly entered the home of Simon's mother-in-law, who was ill with fever. He healed her, and all the people who came after her, casting our their evil spirits. And after this late-night healing session and what must have been a short night of sleep...
"...rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed" (Mark 1:35)
This was Jesus' normal modus of operandi, praying early in the morning in desolate places, and so his disciples went searching for him. His popularity was booming, so they notified him that "Everyone is looking for you."
And Jesus said "no." A "holy no" we find between the lines...in what he didn't actually say at all. He said "Let us go on to the next towns, that I may preach there also, for that is why I came out" (Mark 1:38).
Yes, that was his response. Leaving behind what were likely hundreds of people who desperately wanted a touch from him, he moved on. Why? I ask myself. Why did Jesus leave behind the hurting and the deluded, those who also desired healing and truth, those who desperately wanted to see him?
As Jesus prayed to the Father, he gained direction for his life. He knew his purpose, and fulfilling that purpose necessarily involved limits. It involved saying no to good things so he could say yes to God's plan being revealed through him.
So he could do the best things.
If you believe the Bible and want to live by it, you too must discover how to say the "holy no." Like you, I have been entrusted with spiritual gifts and opportunities in which to use them. But they will not be effectively used to advance God's Kingdom if those gifts are spread too thin...if I take them where I want to take them instead of where the Holy Spirit guides me to use them through prayer and meditation.
Let me be completely honest: I have been given the spiritual gifts of teaching/preaching, encouragement, and leadership. If an opportunity presents itself in which I am called to serve outside of these areas of giftedness or in which I will be stretched beyond my limits...I need to seriously consider whether that is God's will for me. If that is how I can best build up the body of Christ and draw others to know and love Jesus. I need to embrace God's unique calling on my life, or I will soon be derailed by saying an "unholy yes" and failing to contribute to advancing God's Kingdom in the ways in which he has asked me to.
I have been derailed before. But with God's help, and as I listen to the Spirit in prayer, I am learning to say the "holy no." I want, like Jesus, to look back at the end of my life and say honestly, "I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do" (John 17:4 NIV).
No more. No less.
Do you struggle with saying no? What things are you currently saying "yes" to in your life? Do they align with your gifts and limits?
Friday, June 24, 2011
What NT Wright would say on his deathbed
Kurt Willems of the Pangea blog shared these timeless thoughts on looking at Jesus from theologian NT Wright:
What things would you say about Jesus to those you know if you had only one week to live? Look forward to your comments!
What things would you say about Jesus to those you know if you had only one week to live? Look forward to your comments!
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