When I first heard the call to step out on the streets in ministry God and I had a lot of conversations about it.
One of us was calm. The other one was me.
I remember one of the conversations quite distinctly. In it, I panic-strickenly listed all the things I was afraid of. I had come up with an exhaustive list that I found quite impressive.
It wasn't so much what He said in His typically brief reply but the way He said it.
Fear NOT.
It was the same reply given so many times in the scriptures. But this time it was different.
In my mind I've always translated that statement into "Do not be afraid." That may be accurate from the Hebrew and Greek, but getting me to dismiss my fears didn't seem to be His goal.
Wrapped up in those two words was a new translation which sounded more like this:
Fear NOT stepping out.
Fear NOT heeding the call.
Fear NOT going places that scare you.
Fear NOT doing this.
And it wasn't about eternal salvation or worldly punishment or somehow losing out on God's love; that is way outside the nature of God and would have just reflected even more of my personal insecurities.
Instead it was more a call to recognizing that the safe, clean, predictable, stable life I'd built was, in reality, a much scarier place than the full, deep, rich, abundant land that He's promised.
He never discounted my impressive list of fears. In fact, as the conversation wound down I felt like if had I not recognized the very real fears it would have been a bigger problem than my listing them for Him.
The earth-sized fears I could see were real. The heaven-sized Fear NOT provided a counterbalance.
And strangely, in that tension between fear and Fear NOT there is peace. It seems to me counterintuitive, but there it is ---- that peace that passes understanding.
Yes, in our conversations One was calm. By the end, the other was moving that way.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, lest we miss Thy kingdom's goal.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Fumes
With the unbridled energy of an 8-year-old, he burst through the door of the church and happily exclaimed, "Dad! Dad! There are firemen in our HOUSE!"
I did not greet the news with the same enthusiasm. I stuck my head outside and saw that there were red flashing lights on my block. We postponed the church service for a few minutes so I could run home to find out what exactly was happening.
The firemen had come into our house after a neighbor two doors down had been taken to the hospital with carbon monoxide poisoning. The source of the problem was a broken water heater in her basement.
Because all of our houses on the block are connected, the firemen wanted to check our CO levels just to be safe. Some of the invisible, odorless, toxic gas had silently seeped through their walls, through another neighbor's house, then through our walls.
The firemen had gone into our basement. With all my junk piled up down there I was relieved that they didn't cite us for a fire hazard. Instead, they found the CO levels elevated to slightly higher than normal. Their prescription was to open the basement windows for an hour or so to let some fresh air in.
Some days I find myself especially lethargic --- physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally, or any combination of the above. It's really easy for me to succumb to it and let myself drift off.
But I've learned that I often get this way because of something broken in the basement of someone else's life. Addiction, emergency assistance, disease in our broken health care system, hunger, mental health, safe housing, school safety, and the litany of other daily activities here in da 'hood lead to dark places in peoples' lives.
Through both geography and ministry, our lives become interconnected. And though we keep healthy boundaries, the toxins in their lives silently seep into mine.
Without noticing, I can get completely overcome, especially if I let those toxins build up in the part of my life where I keep all my own junk. All my issues combined with their proverbial CO can make my own life quite hazardous.
That's why it's so important for me to keep a window open. If I'm all sealed up inside, the fresh Air cannot come in and restore me.
Sometimes He sends his refreshing breezes through Scripture or prayer or song or some of the expected ways. Other times it's through less spiritual things like a good nap or a funny television show. In any case, keeping open to Him in all of His ways is the prescription to restoring health.
Because the Spirit is like the wind that blows wherever it wants to (John 3:8) it's my job to keep the window open and let His freshness restore my soul.
Lord, restore my soul and lead me on paths of righteousness for Your name's sake.
I did not greet the news with the same enthusiasm. I stuck my head outside and saw that there were red flashing lights on my block. We postponed the church service for a few minutes so I could run home to find out what exactly was happening.
The firemen had come into our house after a neighbor two doors down had been taken to the hospital with carbon monoxide poisoning. The source of the problem was a broken water heater in her basement.
Because all of our houses on the block are connected, the firemen wanted to check our CO levels just to be safe. Some of the invisible, odorless, toxic gas had silently seeped through their walls, through another neighbor's house, then through our walls.
The firemen had gone into our basement. With all my junk piled up down there I was relieved that they didn't cite us for a fire hazard. Instead, they found the CO levels elevated to slightly higher than normal. Their prescription was to open the basement windows for an hour or so to let some fresh air in.
Some days I find myself especially lethargic --- physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally, or any combination of the above. It's really easy for me to succumb to it and let myself drift off.
But I've learned that I often get this way because of something broken in the basement of someone else's life. Addiction, emergency assistance, disease in our broken health care system, hunger, mental health, safe housing, school safety, and the litany of other daily activities here in da 'hood lead to dark places in peoples' lives.
Through both geography and ministry, our lives become interconnected. And though we keep healthy boundaries, the toxins in their lives silently seep into mine.
Without noticing, I can get completely overcome, especially if I let those toxins build up in the part of my life where I keep all my own junk. All my issues combined with their proverbial CO can make my own life quite hazardous.
That's why it's so important for me to keep a window open. If I'm all sealed up inside, the fresh Air cannot come in and restore me.
Sometimes He sends his refreshing breezes through Scripture or prayer or song or some of the expected ways. Other times it's through less spiritual things like a good nap or a funny television show. In any case, keeping open to Him in all of His ways is the prescription to restoring health.
Because the Spirit is like the wind that blows wherever it wants to (John 3:8) it's my job to keep the window open and let His freshness restore my soul.
Lord, restore my soul and lead me on paths of righteousness for Your name's sake.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Swarm
The four fly strips were completely full.
Completely.
That is truly disgusting but amplified by the fact that we had hung them just twenty minutes earlier.
Some mysterious thing had caused an infestation of flies that filled the entire church building that Saturday. It was how I pictured Egypt at the time of the plagues and I was hoping that the frogs would be arriving soon to help us with these flies.
We'd tried swatting them. We'd tried spray. We'd tried fly strips. We'd tried everything they'd recommended at the corner store. We'd had prayer and binding and loosing and casting out. The flies still seemed to have the upper hand.
Having run out of ideas, we set off enough insecticide bombs to kill the house plants and went home for the night.
The next morning we quite literally swept the layer of flies off the floor of the church and wiped the insecticide off the chairs as we set up for the first service.
Things seemed to go reasonably well, but by the third service we were in trouble. A cloud of flies had assembled and taken over the back room. They were loud enough that we could hear them over the speaker. They were starting to spill out into the main room and were hovering a few feet over those seated for the sermon.
We cut to the closing song.
And on the last verse the flies had their final say as one flew into my mouth. Naturally, it got stuck on my soft palate so it would neither come out or go in. The song ended with me trapped in front of the congregation trying to scoop a still living fly out of the back of my mouth.
Yes, it was quite a Sunday.
Did I mention that it was Easter?
The invitations. The decorations. The new families. The guest ministers. The special crafts. The really great experiences we had (at least in the first 2 1/2 services). The willingness of people to endure swarms of flies.
I didn't mention those things either, did I?
It seems often the case that I spend most of my days battling swarms ---- physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual ---- that seem to take over. I pray at them, spray at them, or try to get them to stick to something (or someone) else. Sometimes when I take my eyes off them and try instead lift my voice in praise they choke me off.
And though I might want to just call it in early, it's Easter. I have a living Savior. And if I can close my mouth and look hard through the haze the swarm creates there are signs of resurrection happening amid the frantic buzz.
Because the swarms are real and so is the One who calls me through them. Getting too distracted by the flies leads to the despairing life of a losing battle of trying to swat them. Denying them as a means of focusing on the Christ eventually chokes the sharing the Good News with others.
The flies died off a few days later; we never found out why or how they got there. But because of Easter, He is still with us and will be, through swarms or clear skies, even unto the ends of the earth.
Lord, You are the Eternal One. Thank you.
Completely.
That is truly disgusting but amplified by the fact that we had hung them just twenty minutes earlier.
Some mysterious thing had caused an infestation of flies that filled the entire church building that Saturday. It was how I pictured Egypt at the time of the plagues and I was hoping that the frogs would be arriving soon to help us with these flies.
We'd tried swatting them. We'd tried spray. We'd tried fly strips. We'd tried everything they'd recommended at the corner store. We'd had prayer and binding and loosing and casting out. The flies still seemed to have the upper hand.
Having run out of ideas, we set off enough insecticide bombs to kill the house plants and went home for the night.
The next morning we quite literally swept the layer of flies off the floor of the church and wiped the insecticide off the chairs as we set up for the first service.
Things seemed to go reasonably well, but by the third service we were in trouble. A cloud of flies had assembled and taken over the back room. They were loud enough that we could hear them over the speaker. They were starting to spill out into the main room and were hovering a few feet over those seated for the sermon.
We cut to the closing song.
And on the last verse the flies had their final say as one flew into my mouth. Naturally, it got stuck on my soft palate so it would neither come out or go in. The song ended with me trapped in front of the congregation trying to scoop a still living fly out of the back of my mouth.
Yes, it was quite a Sunday.
Did I mention that it was Easter?
The invitations. The decorations. The new families. The guest ministers. The special crafts. The really great experiences we had (at least in the first 2 1/2 services). The willingness of people to endure swarms of flies.
I didn't mention those things either, did I?
It seems often the case that I spend most of my days battling swarms ---- physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual ---- that seem to take over. I pray at them, spray at them, or try to get them to stick to something (or someone) else. Sometimes when I take my eyes off them and try instead lift my voice in praise they choke me off.
And though I might want to just call it in early, it's Easter. I have a living Savior. And if I can close my mouth and look hard through the haze the swarm creates there are signs of resurrection happening amid the frantic buzz.
Because the swarms are real and so is the One who calls me through them. Getting too distracted by the flies leads to the despairing life of a losing battle of trying to swat them. Denying them as a means of focusing on the Christ eventually chokes the sharing the Good News with others.
The flies died off a few days later; we never found out why or how they got there. But because of Easter, He is still with us and will be, through swarms or clear skies, even unto the ends of the earth.
Lord, You are the Eternal One. Thank you.
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