There's a song we sing in church a pretty good bit called "Your Grace is Enough," by Chris Tomlin. One of reasons I really like this song is because it has the ethos of the Old Testament, couched in New Testament language. It starts out remembering the faithfulness of God, talking about his character and "reminding" God of who he is. Then, it goes into my favorite part of the song. If this wasn't a song, but prose in a book, it might read something like this: "Now, because of who you are and what you do (all that we've just said) remember your people, remember your children, remember your promise, oh God." I love to sing these lines because it is what Abraham, Moses, David, and most of the prophets did over and over again. When there were problems, when they needed help, they reminded God of who he is and his character, then they called on him to remember that they were his people and that he had promised them certain things, and they wanted those promises to be fulfilled.
Here's the thing: I've seen this transfer into my own prayer life. I find myself many times, recounting God's character, and then reminding God that I am his child, or that the person I'm praying for is his child, and that he has promised his children certain things that I am now asking him to fulfill. Now, this might seem like demands on God by an arrogant human, but it's all throughout Scripture. "God, you have promised us certain things as your children, and we know that keeping those promises are in line with your character. Now, as your children, as those promised, we ask you to come through, just as you have in the past. Remember what you've told us you would do for us. . . and do it. We need you to do it. We're asking you to do it. We're calling on you to keep your word to us, your children. Don't forget about us. We're here, and we need you to remember."
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sunday School Sneak Peek: Storytime!
What does it take to make a good story? Compelling plot? Interesting characters? Drama and suspense? Probably a little mix of all of that and more. And what about storytellers? Those people who just somehow seem to have a knack for drawing you in to the world of their story. How do they do it effectively? What's the secret to becoming a good storyteller?
This week in Sunday School we're going to be looking at Acts 22. Paul's been arrested. . .again, and when he goes before the council that will hear his case, he decides to tell a story as his defense. If there ever was a time for a good story, this would it.
This week in Sunday School we're going to be looking at Acts 22. Paul's been arrested. . .again, and when he goes before the council that will hear his case, he decides to tell a story as his defense. If there ever was a time for a good story, this would it.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Legacy in Reverse
My church has been having its annual Missions Conference the past three days, and this year I helped with the M.I.T (Missionaries In Training) program for the kids. Each night I got to walk around with about 10-15 4th-graders as they heard about missionaries who went to India, and as they got to see what life is like in places like South Africa. Being with the kids at my church for stuff like this is one of the great joys for me! They're funny, maddening, and help keep me from becoming too focused on myself and thinking that church is all about my needs being met.
Tuesday night was the last night and, as is pretty typical, by the last night of anything, kids (and the leaders) can become a little frayed. The next-to-last thing we did was listen to the Children's Director talk about what it really means to go and be a missionary to places around the world. In other words, this was the "challenge" part of the whole thing. At one point the Children's Director said, "And guys, that's one of my prayers for y'all, is that one day God would call some of you to go to some country around the world and tell people about Jesus." And, as he said it, goosebumps covered me, and a lump welled up in my throat, because I had forgotten momentarily why I volunteered to help in the first place.
See, here's the thing: I don't help with the kids during the Missions Conference because I'm trying to gain favor with the Children's Director (or even anyone else in the church). I don't even do it because they're always shorthanded. (I learned a long time ago, I can't meet every need that's out there.) No, really, at the end of the day, I do it because I want those kids, those 4th-graders to hear about missions, to learn about examples of those who've gone before them, because ultimately, I want them to go.
As I watched them this weekend learning how to play Cricket or painting their South African flags or listening to the actor who played William Carey, I was praying, "Which one, God? Which of these are you gonna call? Who's it gonna be, that's gonna take the Gospel to a people group that I've never even heard of?" That's what I was praying. That's what I'm hoping. It's not keeping them preoccupied while their parents are upstairs in the "real" conference. It's the possibility that one day, when I'm in my 60's, I'll sit down with them at the Missions Conference in 2043, and they'll tell me about the churches they're helping plant in Bangladesh, or how they're seeing some really exciting breakthroughs happen with orphans in North Korea, and I'll sit and marvel that they're being able to go into these countries that I've been praying for all these years and longed for the chance to set foot in.
Could it be Brock. . .or Grace. . . or Gabe. . . or Madison? Next year's conference? Sign me up!
Tuesday night was the last night and, as is pretty typical, by the last night of anything, kids (and the leaders) can become a little frayed. The next-to-last thing we did was listen to the Children's Director talk about what it really means to go and be a missionary to places around the world. In other words, this was the "challenge" part of the whole thing. At one point the Children's Director said, "And guys, that's one of my prayers for y'all, is that one day God would call some of you to go to some country around the world and tell people about Jesus." And, as he said it, goosebumps covered me, and a lump welled up in my throat, because I had forgotten momentarily why I volunteered to help in the first place.
See, here's the thing: I don't help with the kids during the Missions Conference because I'm trying to gain favor with the Children's Director (or even anyone else in the church). I don't even do it because they're always shorthanded. (I learned a long time ago, I can't meet every need that's out there.) No, really, at the end of the day, I do it because I want those kids, those 4th-graders to hear about missions, to learn about examples of those who've gone before them, because ultimately, I want them to go.
As I watched them this weekend learning how to play Cricket or painting their South African flags or listening to the actor who played William Carey, I was praying, "Which one, God? Which of these are you gonna call? Who's it gonna be, that's gonna take the Gospel to a people group that I've never even heard of?" That's what I was praying. That's what I'm hoping. It's not keeping them preoccupied while their parents are upstairs in the "real" conference. It's the possibility that one day, when I'm in my 60's, I'll sit down with them at the Missions Conference in 2043, and they'll tell me about the churches they're helping plant in Bangladesh, or how they're seeing some really exciting breakthroughs happen with orphans in North Korea, and I'll sit and marvel that they're being able to go into these countries that I've been praying for all these years and longed for the chance to set foot in.
Could it be Brock. . .or Grace. . . or Gabe. . . or Madison? Next year's conference? Sign me up!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Holding On
Most people that know me well know that I like listening to Steven Curtis Chapman. I buy his CDs, I've been to one of his concerts, I check out his webpage from time-to-time. I'm a fan. It's not so much his music that I connect with, actually his music is pretty different than anything else I listen to. Instead, it's the words to the songs he writes that my heart tends to be drawn too. I have a list of his songs that I send to folks who I know are going through hard times, trials, etc., and this morning I listened to a couple of them on the way in to work. This one is titled "Hold on to Jesus," and it's from Steven's 1997 CD Signs of Life.
I have come to this ocean
And the waves of fear are starting to grow
The doubts and questions are rising with the tide
So I'm clinging to the one sure thing I know
Chorus:
I will hold on to the hand of my Savior
And I will hold on with all my might
I will hold loosely to things that are fleeting
And hold on to Jesus
I will hold on to Jesus for life
I've tried to hold many treasures
They just keep slipping through my fingers like sand
But there's one treasure that means more than breath itself
So I'm clinging to it with everything I am Chorus
Bridge:
Like a child holding on to a promise
I will cling to His word and believe
As I press on to take hold of that
for which Christ Jesus took hold of me Chorus
Here's the things that stood out to me this morning: the first stanza and chorus of this song seem to sum up pretty well my life these days. I imagined myself closing the door to my room at bedtime, coming to the bank of the ocean. As I pull back the covers, the fears do start to grow. Each night I wonder and think, "What will it be like tonight? Will this finally be the night of freedom and rest, or will this be another night of battle?" There are so many things about all this that I don't understand and can't even put into coherent thoughts. There is so much about what's real and what's not that is blurred these days for me. My ability to discern things accurately has greatly diminished, and so I have no choice but to believe in the one thing that I know for certain. It is outside me and beyond me, and that's a very good thing, because what's inside and around me may or may not be trustworthy.
So I hold on to Jesus. As cheesy as that sounds, that's what I do, night after night. And I gotta be honest, when I sing, read, hear that line "I will hold on to Jesus for life," for me the meaning isn't holding on to Jesus for life as in an amount of time, as in I will be doing this forever. No, for me it's holding on to Jesus for life like a man hangs onto a root sticking out of the mountain cliff he's just slipped and fallen over. It's holding on for life like a passeger holds onto to a piece of wood that's floating by off the ship she was on that just sunk. Holding on for life.
I have come to this ocean
And the waves of fear are starting to grow
The doubts and questions are rising with the tide
So I'm clinging to the one sure thing I know
Chorus:
I will hold on to the hand of my Savior
And I will hold on with all my might
I will hold loosely to things that are fleeting
And hold on to Jesus
I will hold on to Jesus for life
I've tried to hold many treasures
They just keep slipping through my fingers like sand
But there's one treasure that means more than breath itself
So I'm clinging to it with everything I am Chorus
Bridge:
Like a child holding on to a promise
I will cling to His word and believe
As I press on to take hold of that
for which Christ Jesus took hold of me Chorus
Here's the things that stood out to me this morning: the first stanza and chorus of this song seem to sum up pretty well my life these days. I imagined myself closing the door to my room at bedtime, coming to the bank of the ocean. As I pull back the covers, the fears do start to grow. Each night I wonder and think, "What will it be like tonight? Will this finally be the night of freedom and rest, or will this be another night of battle?" There are so many things about all this that I don't understand and can't even put into coherent thoughts. There is so much about what's real and what's not that is blurred these days for me. My ability to discern things accurately has greatly diminished, and so I have no choice but to believe in the one thing that I know for certain. It is outside me and beyond me, and that's a very good thing, because what's inside and around me may or may not be trustworthy.
So I hold on to Jesus. As cheesy as that sounds, that's what I do, night after night. And I gotta be honest, when I sing, read, hear that line "I will hold on to Jesus for life," for me the meaning isn't holding on to Jesus for life as in an amount of time, as in I will be doing this forever. No, for me it's holding on to Jesus for life like a man hangs onto a root sticking out of the mountain cliff he's just slipped and fallen over. It's holding on for life like a passeger holds onto to a piece of wood that's floating by off the ship she was on that just sunk. Holding on for life.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Sunday School Leftovers
Okay, so Chad did an amazing job teaching Sunday School yesterday, and again, I'm learning so much about evangelism through this series on Acts. Things I've thought about for years, in ways I've never thought about them. One thing he said, in particular that stuck out to me yesterday, when he was talking about the transformation in his thinking about evangelism that's occurred as he's shaken off his performance mentality about the Christian life, "I care more about the person than converting them." Interesting, thoutht-provoking, very dangerous if taken out-of-context and looked at in immature ways. I love it.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Haven't We Been Over This Already?
So, Radley is now about nine months old, and since my roommate got him when he was only about five weeks old, two things are very true. One, he learned a lot of tricks, routines, patterns very early in life, and two, it feels like he's been a puppy forever! See, early on we taught him to sit, lay down, stay, and to come when called. Along the way he also learned our personalities, patterns, and behaviors. He knew when we wanted to pet him, and when we wanted him to leave us alone. He learned where his boundaries were and what things were off limits.
But, here's the thing: as he's gotten older and bigger and changed, he's entered a new phase where he doesn't mind as much anymore and all the things that he's learned seemed to have gone right out the window. I was thinking about that the other day and how once again, it so closely mimics and reflects my walk with Christ. See, I've been living with Christ for almost twenty-four years now -- I came to faith when I was about six or seven -- and I've learned a lot about what it means to be a follower of Christ. Along the way as Christ has taught me things and shown me things, I've also picked up a good bit about God's personality, and yet there are seasons in my life, just like with Radley, when those lessons and the things I know seem to have flown right out the window, and I live like I'm brand new at the this whole Christian-life thing.
And when these times come, it's as if God has to come back and re-teach the basics to me, like we're having to do now with Radley. This is how to sit, lay down, come when called, these are the boundaries, this is off limits. It's tedious work, with puppies and with people. I'm just so thankful that God's patience is infinitely greater with me than mine is with that little white dog sometimes.
But, here's the thing: as he's gotten older and bigger and changed, he's entered a new phase where he doesn't mind as much anymore and all the things that he's learned seemed to have gone right out the window. I was thinking about that the other day and how once again, it so closely mimics and reflects my walk with Christ. See, I've been living with Christ for almost twenty-four years now -- I came to faith when I was about six or seven -- and I've learned a lot about what it means to be a follower of Christ. Along the way as Christ has taught me things and shown me things, I've also picked up a good bit about God's personality, and yet there are seasons in my life, just like with Radley, when those lessons and the things I know seem to have flown right out the window, and I live like I'm brand new at the this whole Christian-life thing.
And when these times come, it's as if God has to come back and re-teach the basics to me, like we're having to do now with Radley. This is how to sit, lay down, come when called, these are the boundaries, this is off limits. It's tedious work, with puppies and with people. I'm just so thankful that God's patience is infinitely greater with me than mine is with that little white dog sometimes.
Christ-centered Evangelism. . . What?!
Acts chapter two is a partial record of Peter's brilliant sermon to the devout Jews that were in Jerusalem at the time when the disciples received the gift of the Holy Spirit (2:5). There's a lot that can and has been said about this sermon, and many lessons in evangelism that can be taken from it, but one that has continued to stand out to me is the Christ-centeredness of what Peter says. Peter's sermon is all about Christ. He shows his audience how the prophescies about the coming Messiah (2:16-21, 25-30) were fulfilled in the man of Jesus Christ (2:22-24, 31-33). He paints a picture of Jesus of Nazareth that is big, that is compelling, that is God-sized, namely because Jesus of Nazareth was in fact, God.
Now, here's the thing that I find so interesting as I've thought about the differences between Peter's sermon and how evangelism tends to be done in today's context. See, we tend to focus most of our time on convincing the person we're talking to that they are a sinner who needs saving. We tend to try and paint a picture of God who is perfect and man who is sinful and show them that this is a bad problem that must be resolved. And, while I don't think that this is at all a bad way to do evangelism, it does seem to me to be pretty man-centered. It's all about showing the person's problem, the person's need, and sometimes I wonder if this leaves much room to do what Peter did, paint a really big picture of who Christ is and what he did on earth.
At the end of his sermon, Luke writes that "when they heard this they were cut to the heart" (2:37). It's as if you can almost hear what they were thinking, "What have we done?! We have rejected the Messiah!" The truth about Christ, seeing who he really was, cut them to the heart as they realized their own fault, and it led them to repentance. Could it be that if we spent our time showing and talking about Christ in these kinds of ways to the lost around us, they too might realize that they have rejected the Messiah and ask, "What do we need to do?"
Now, here's the thing that I find so interesting as I've thought about the differences between Peter's sermon and how evangelism tends to be done in today's context. See, we tend to focus most of our time on convincing the person we're talking to that they are a sinner who needs saving. We tend to try and paint a picture of God who is perfect and man who is sinful and show them that this is a bad problem that must be resolved. And, while I don't think that this is at all a bad way to do evangelism, it does seem to me to be pretty man-centered. It's all about showing the person's problem, the person's need, and sometimes I wonder if this leaves much room to do what Peter did, paint a really big picture of who Christ is and what he did on earth.
At the end of his sermon, Luke writes that "when they heard this they were cut to the heart" (2:37). It's as if you can almost hear what they were thinking, "What have we done?! We have rejected the Messiah!" The truth about Christ, seeing who he really was, cut them to the heart as they realized their own fault, and it led them to repentance. Could it be that if we spent our time showing and talking about Christ in these kinds of ways to the lost around us, they too might realize that they have rejected the Messiah and ask, "What do we need to do?"
Friday, January 9, 2009
"Simple" Truths
In Sunday School, we're doing a sprint through the book of Acts during January and February, specifically focusing on the nuances of how the early church did evangelism. This is the second time I've really "studied" the book, and I'm amazed once again at this book, specifically how the first eleven verses of the book are so integral to everything that happens. Those forty days that Christ spent with his disciples in between his resurrection and ascension become so crucial to everything they do after the Holy Spirit comes.
For example, in 1:3 Luke writes, "To them [the disciples] he [Christ] presented himself alive after his suffering by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God." In other words, Christ spent a significant amount of time making sure his disciples knew that he was the real deal, he really was the Messiah that had been promised for so long. This is what he taught them.
Then, you flip over to chapter 2, and read verses 14-36 (Peter's sermon to the crowd), and you realize that what he's doing for the crowd is the same thing Christ did for the disciples, showing that the Jesus who was crucified is the Messiah, the real deal.
Here's the thing: I've been through a lot of different "evangelism training" courses, but I don't ever remember one that talked about presenting Christ as true, as the risen Messiah. In the midst of all the different tactics that are sometimes used to share Christ with those around us, I wonder if we've lost the profound wonder of talking about the risen Christ and showing non-Christians how the biblical promises of the Old Testament are fulfilled in this carpenter from Nazareth.
For example, in 1:3 Luke writes, "To them [the disciples] he [Christ] presented himself alive after his suffering by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God." In other words, Christ spent a significant amount of time making sure his disciples knew that he was the real deal, he really was the Messiah that had been promised for so long. This is what he taught them.
Then, you flip over to chapter 2, and read verses 14-36 (Peter's sermon to the crowd), and you realize that what he's doing for the crowd is the same thing Christ did for the disciples, showing that the Jesus who was crucified is the Messiah, the real deal.
Here's the thing: I've been through a lot of different "evangelism training" courses, but I don't ever remember one that talked about presenting Christ as true, as the risen Messiah. In the midst of all the different tactics that are sometimes used to share Christ with those around us, I wonder if we've lost the profound wonder of talking about the risen Christ and showing non-Christians how the biblical promises of the Old Testament are fulfilled in this carpenter from Nazareth.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Putting It Into Words
As I've been sharing with people about my dreams, I constantly find myself at a loss for words when it comes to talking about fear. I talk about being afraid, or the fact that I'm scared, or how I am fearful, but, here's the thing: none of those words, taken at their base definition, really get at how I feel when I get into bed at night, or when I have a nightmare, or when I wake up from a bad dream.
I told someone today that I feel like I need to come up with a whole new vocabulary for talking about fear, because the English words we have just don't do it. They just aren't powerful enough. Maybe because our language is just that limited. Maybe because I've used those words to describe feelings in the past that didn't even come close to matching what I'm experiencing now and so I've cheapened them in a way. Whatever the case, I feel like I'm developing a whole new mini-dictionary of definitions for what it means to be afraid. And, the kicker is, I'm scared I'll need it!
I told someone today that I feel like I need to come up with a whole new vocabulary for talking about fear, because the English words we have just don't do it. They just aren't powerful enough. Maybe because our language is just that limited. Maybe because I've used those words to describe feelings in the past that didn't even come close to matching what I'm experiencing now and so I've cheapened them in a way. Whatever the case, I feel like I'm developing a whole new mini-dictionary of definitions for what it means to be afraid. And, the kicker is, I'm scared I'll need it!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
1 Sheep. . . 2 Sheep. . .
So, here's the thing: I've been debating about whether or not to post something about this on the blog for a while now, but I think I've finally figured out a way to do it that fits with the overall feel of what I want this blog to be about, so I've decided to go ahead with it.
Since September of last year, I've been having nightmares: violent, scary, ugly nightmares. Nightmares that you don't want to know what they're about. Nightmares that even I wish I didn't know what they were about. Nightmares that cause me to wake up in the night yelling. Nightmares that leave me in cold sweats. Nightmares that make me scared to go to sleep at night. Nightmares that make me wonder about lots of things.
Over the course of these past months, it's very common to be awake for large chunks of time so I've been able to think and process in between the tears and anger. See, there are many reasons to be scared right now, there are many things to be afraid of. But through it all, even when I'm lying there in the dark, terrified that my eyes may close and another horrible movie will start to play, and fighting so hard to keep that from happening, there is great peace that comes in knowing that my worst fear, the thing I'm most afraid of --losing my relationship with Christ -- can never happen.
It's not that it can never happen because my faith is strong, sometimes it's almost non-existent. And it's not that it can never happen because I'm the one clinging to God, sometimes I don't have the strength. It's because he's holding tight to me, through the sleeplesness, through the darkness, through the nightmares. It's because nothing on this earth, even my own mind, can ever seperate me from his love. It's because his holding on to me, ultimately has nothing to do with me; it's something he decided to do long ago, in the dark, before there was even light. That's enough to make me rest, whether I sleep or not.
Since September of last year, I've been having nightmares: violent, scary, ugly nightmares. Nightmares that you don't want to know what they're about. Nightmares that even I wish I didn't know what they were about. Nightmares that cause me to wake up in the night yelling. Nightmares that leave me in cold sweats. Nightmares that make me scared to go to sleep at night. Nightmares that make me wonder about lots of things.
Over the course of these past months, it's very common to be awake for large chunks of time so I've been able to think and process in between the tears and anger. See, there are many reasons to be scared right now, there are many things to be afraid of. But through it all, even when I'm lying there in the dark, terrified that my eyes may close and another horrible movie will start to play, and fighting so hard to keep that from happening, there is great peace that comes in knowing that my worst fear, the thing I'm most afraid of --losing my relationship with Christ -- can never happen.
It's not that it can never happen because my faith is strong, sometimes it's almost non-existent. And it's not that it can never happen because I'm the one clinging to God, sometimes I don't have the strength. It's because he's holding tight to me, through the sleeplesness, through the darkness, through the nightmares. It's because nothing on this earth, even my own mind, can ever seperate me from his love. It's because his holding on to me, ultimately has nothing to do with me; it's something he decided to do long ago, in the dark, before there was even light. That's enough to make me rest, whether I sleep or not.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Around the First Bend
2009 is officially here. Even with the extra second that was thrown in this year, the turning of the calendar felt instantaneous. One minute it was 2008, the next 2009. Before midnight, everything was old and tired and worn out, now everything seems young and new and full of hope. On one side, we were lamenting and reflecting on what might have been, and on the other, anything and everything now seems possible. In many ways, we are the same people we were before, but something feels different now. In some ways, evrything's changed. Maybe this is why I love New Year's Eve, because it reminds me so much of the gospel.
Here's the thing: the gospel's message is one of hope and expectation, because everything has changed. Now things can be, have the potential to be experientially different, now that everything is new. I am a new creation. It doesn't mean that I don't still struggle and wrestle with my old nature, just like we might still have '08 bills to pay or deal with things that are holdovers from "last year," but at the essence I am new, just like the year is new. And, because I am a new person in Christ, there is the real potential that my life can be radically different now.
If you think about it, much about this year will, in all likelihood, look very similar to last: holidays, seasons, sports, busy times at work, they all tend to happen on or around the same times they happened last year, and yet how I feel, react, and what I'm experiencing during all these times is what might not be the same. This is how my Christian life is so much of the time too. There are so many areas of my life that never seem to change, sins I tend to commit over and over again, trials that seem to be mine for the foreseeable future are all still with me, holdovers from my past that never go away, and yet, how I react to these, what I feel when I'm going through them, this is where the evidence turns up that God is working, changing me on the inside and causing me to become more like that person he sees when he looks at me.
Here's the thing: the gospel's message is one of hope and expectation, because everything has changed. Now things can be, have the potential to be experientially different, now that everything is new. I am a new creation. It doesn't mean that I don't still struggle and wrestle with my old nature, just like we might still have '08 bills to pay or deal with things that are holdovers from "last year," but at the essence I am new, just like the year is new. And, because I am a new person in Christ, there is the real potential that my life can be radically different now.
If you think about it, much about this year will, in all likelihood, look very similar to last: holidays, seasons, sports, busy times at work, they all tend to happen on or around the same times they happened last year, and yet how I feel, react, and what I'm experiencing during all these times is what might not be the same. This is how my Christian life is so much of the time too. There are so many areas of my life that never seem to change, sins I tend to commit over and over again, trials that seem to be mine for the foreseeable future are all still with me, holdovers from my past that never go away, and yet, how I react to these, what I feel when I'm going through them, this is where the evidence turns up that God is working, changing me on the inside and causing me to become more like that person he sees when he looks at me.
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