Generations

After being cussed out by a dad who didn't appreciate the fact that his daughter had been in a church, much less that she participated often enough to earn a trip to the church's summer camp, I headed to the next house to try to get permission for another kid to spend a week at camp. On the short walk from one house to the next, I stopped on the corner to visit with some kids who had been to camp in the past. They were all dealing drugs and my visit slowed their commerce for a few minutes.

The futility of the situation didn't improve when the mom answered the door at the next kid's house. She was clearly strung out on heroin and nodded off as I talked with her.

Until she heard the word "camp," that is. Once that little word came out of my mouth she connected. Not with me, but I could see she was off in a different space than where heroin usually takes someone.

She turned to me and said, "When I was a kid I went to a camp with a church one summer. I want my kid to do that, too." She signed the forms.

It's so easy for me to get caught up in today. So much of life seems to be an exercise in banging my head against a wall followed by people complaining that I didn't bang it hard enough to do any good. And when I look only at today (and maybe the last couple of years) then I can only agree.

But that mom's lucid moment forced me to refocus through the eternal lens that disciples of Jesus are privileged to have. The woman's life was clearly a mess, but the faithfulness of the church of her childhood was opening doors for her son's future that might not have been otherwise open to him.

And when I can look through that lens I have just a bit of hope. That hope is not for today but for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I think of what could happen if Jesus' disciples will continue to surround and bless this family for generations to come. Is it possible that each generation could grow just a bit closer to Christ than the last? Could a family's testimony of growing in Christ from generation to generation empower disciples for generations to come?

When I look through that eternal lens, I can have some hope that the former campers who were dealing drugs that afternoon will not only let their kids come to church and go to camp but will encourage them to do so.

And I can hope that the girl whose dad cussed me out because she was in church got enough good seed planted in her so that she won't cuss out the pastor who comes by ten summers from now inviting her yet-to-be-born kids to a week of Vacation Bible School.

Because my God has plans for this world that are bigger than the span of my life. I get the privilege and responsibility of remaining faithful and being a blessing in this generation, trusting that other people of faith will build on those blessings in the generations to come.

Lord, let me see with Your eyes that I may see the worth You've put in each person and the hope You have for them and their descendants.

Keys

The keys were just hanging there. Apparently, someone had unlocked the door and left the keys in the lock when they went inside. All their treasures -- the house, the car, and who-knows-what else -- were now available to strangers just for the taking.

I happened upon this scene when I was delivering fliers one morning. I'm sure the keys hadn't been in the lock very long because some people, casually loitering across the street, seemed to be looking for a clearing in foot traffic so they could take advantage of the opportunities for treasure those keys provided.

So I knocked on the door. No one replied. I knocked again. Still nothing. I knocked harder. Cussing came out but the owner didn't. I knocked again.

The door flew open and I was in the shadow of a very large, angry, burly man. He was not happy and proceeded to loudly tell me so. (The collar I was wearing, I believe, saved me from some even more colorful language than what I was already getting.)

Without a chance to get a word in I just pointed at the keys. He glanced at his door. Then he LOOKED at his door and quit talking.

He took the keys out of the lock and looked across the street at the loiterers who were now casually dispersing.

He started talking again, only these were words of thanks and relief from fear and panic from what might have happened had I not been persistent or had he not come to the door.

I wish I could say that I didn't know how this guy felt. I do stupid things all the time. Yes, I've left my keys in the door, though it was when I lived in Iowa so it was a much less risky error than if it happened here in da 'hood. But I'm oblivious to many of the mistakes I make and would be horrified if I recognized the consequences.

And so I need to be open to having someone knock on my door and offer correction. Honest, thoughtful correction isn't the enemy; it's just a friend I might want to yell at.

Now, just because someone knocks on my door doesn't mean they have my best interest in mind. People knock on my door all the time looking to sell me meat out of the back of their truck. Or it might be someone at the wrong house looking for my neighbor. Or it might be someone asking for money. Maybe you don't have this problem, but I have an abundance of people who have wonderful plans for my life if only I would do things their way.

But when honest correction with my interest at heart comes knocking, I best look at where it's pointing. It will show me the keys that I didn't know I was missing that unlock the treasures God has in store for me.

Thank you, Lord, for loving me enough to not leave me as I am. Correct me and help me to accept and implement Your wisdom and truth in my life.

Answer

She had been coming to church for only a few months and everything was new and exciting. She was five years old and had never heard any of the Bible stories we were sharing each Sunday afternoon.

She came all four weeks of the Advent season and was shocked, amazed, and delighted to learn that Christmas was Jesus' Birthday. For four weeks in a row our themes, lessons, and crafts all shouted the message, "Christmas is Jesus' Birthday!"

So on the first Sunday after Christmas her hand was the first one in the air when I asked about why we celebrate Christmas. With a giant smile and total delight from knowing the right answer, she called out,

"PRESENTS!"

Everyone on staff sank just a little bit as I redirected the conversation to get the name "Jesus" to somehow be affiliated with the celebration of Christmas. Maybe next year she'll get it right.

Though I was truly disappointed that she didn't get the right answer, her honesty was refreshing. So often I'm smart enough to give the right answers to questions at church. They aren't, though, always quite as honest.

Some of the right answers I know include:

-Easter is all about Jesus' resurrection.
-I need to be patient and wait upon the Lord.
-With God all things are possible.
-All things work together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purposes.

I give these and other "right" answers for several reasons. First, the bright side of me knows they are correct and I answer in hopes of building my faith a bit. The darker side of me, though, knows that most other people at church already know the "right" answer and I don't want to look even more foolish or shallow than I normally do. In addition, I don't need yet another person to talk down to me to teach me the "right" answer that I already know anyway.

Maybe it would be good if I sometimes said out loud that some years Easter is more about a couple days off with the family than an empty tomb, that I get tired of waiting on the Lord and occasionally plan a hostile takeover, and that I believe the problems in front of me are both completely impossible and cannot in any way be used for good.

If I were more like an eager five-year-old child I would raise my hand and confess these wrong-but-honest answers, inside myself (and maybe even in front of the other kids in my class). Who knows? It might open up an opportunity for God to redirect the conversation to help the right answer be the honest answer. Maybe next year I'll really get it right.

God, help me be more honest with myself and with You. Use this to help me live more fully in your Truth.

News

It was a dark and stormy night. Actually, it was just dark outside. I've just always wanted to start a story that way.

Through much of the day we'd been installing a new laminate floor in the church. We had worked together and had ample opportunities to practice the fruit of the Spirit with one another, especially patients, kindness, and self-control.

And long suffering.

The directions were more complicated than we originally thought. Some of my tools had been stolen when we turned our backs for just a few seconds. The materials were backbreakingly heavy. Dirt and scraps were everywhere. Sawdust stuck to our skin.

The project was about 80% complete that Saturday night with three services scheduled for Sunday. We would not be able to finish. We came to a reasonable stopping point and called it quits. That night I went back to the church alone to try to set up a few things for morning and to finish the sermon, now only 14 hours away.

It was then that he just opened the door and walked in like he owned the place. I knew who he was as he had lived up the street from the church for many years. But I don't recall having said anything more personal to him than things like, "beautiful evening tonight" when we'd passed on the street. I think a couple of his grandkids might have been to a festival the church hosted once. I wasn't sure of his name.

He said, "I saw the lights on so I came in because I knew you'd want to hear my good news." This was followed by an overly detailed and graphic description of the hunting trip he'd been on that day. He got a deer.

After congratulating him I said, "And you have perfect timing, too. You got here just as I was going to try to get this refrigerator back in place. Can you help me for a minute?" He gladly did. We got the refrigerator out of the middle of the room then he headed out into the night to go home and share both his news and, in the near future, some cuts of meat with his neighbors.

Though sore and tired, bespeckled with sawdust, and still a little disgusted about the tools, hope was refreshed in me. Because for just a few minutes, the temporal reflected my hope in the things less easy to quantify.

My hope is that the church is a place where Light shines out into the surrounding darkness beckoning people to come in.

My hope is that the church is known as a place where people can come with Good News to share.

My hope is that the church will follow the Good News with opportunities to serve.

My hope is that the church will release people back into the world to continue sharing the Good News and to bless others from their bounty.

And sometimes just a glimpse of hope in the temporal gives me just enough Breath to buy new tools, set up the chairs, and blow away the personal thunderclouds on what what could have been a very dark and stormy night.

Lord, thank you for the hope you've placed in us. Help me to hand onto it amid each day's challenges.

Glow

She wanted her baby to receive its sacramental blessing right away. Though they hadn't been home from the hospital very long she was eager to have it done.

The next event on the calendar was our Christmas Eve service so we decided to have the blessing then. That evening we filled the small storefront church with candles which created a peaceful light while at the same time dimming the scary and dangerous effects of the room in which we gathered.

There amid the warm glow of both the candles and the season she brought her baby for its blessing. Those gathered shared in the Spirit during that time together and congratulated the mother on the good choice she made to have the baby blessed that night.

It was a moving Christmas Eve for us all, especially since we were well aware that in a matter of days Child Protective Services would be permanently removing the baby from her mother.

Mom had already endangered the child for nine months prior to the birth due to her use of heroin. The home that she had for the baby was not a safe or healthy place even when mom was lucent.

But that night she made the right choice. She thoroughly loved her baby and did not willingly give her to the state. The choice to bring this child before God and submit to His love took great courage. Our compassion both for mother and child underscored the need put the whole situation into hands bigger and more capable than our own.

The Prince of Peace was with mom that night. He was with all of us who were both entangled and torn in the midst of this very difficult situation.

And we live in faith that His blessing continues to be upon that child, providing both a peaceful Light while at the same time dimming the scary and dangerous effects of the room in which she spent the days before her birth.

Be near me Lord Jesus I ask Thee to stay close by me forever and love me I pray. Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care. And fit us for heaven to live with Thee there.

Temptation

I don't remember exactly which chapter and verse we were reading with the teens at church that night. But the word "temptation" was in it. So I asked, "What's a temptation."

Only one kid raised his hand so I called on him. He stood up, shuffled his feet, swayed, snapped his fingers, and said, "It's a guy who dances like this while he's singing."

The others all agreed.

I'm not sure which surprised me more:

1. That he gave that answer.
2. That he and the others honestly agreed that it was the right answer.
3. That all the kids were so familiar with the singing group The Temptations.

Needless to say, we explored another meaning of the word temptation that night. Once we did, the passage seemed to make a little more sense to the kids.

That was good because understanding different kinds of temptations can help make sense of the root of our own motivations.

As a church we've pontificated on the classic sex/drugs/rock 'n roll types of temptations to the point that sometimes the church is viewed by the world as simply the group who is against those things. And yes, they can be quiet tempting.

We also talk about the temptations that impact our behavior when we're angry or mad or hungry. They're not as scandalous as the other temptations but are very real and are sometimes addressed.

But for me the real temptations that get me in trouble are the ones more subtle. See, it's tempting for me to only do the kinds of ministry that I know people will express gratitude for instead of all the things that need to be done that no one seems to appreciate. It's tempting for me to use the business of doing good works as an excuse to not take the time to delve deeper into my relationship with God. It's tempting for me to quickly make doable plans and try to get heaven's endorsement rather than go the through the discernment process and take faith risks to reveal and implement God's plans. It's tempting for me to say, "God answered my prayer" when He did what I wanted rather than looking for how He answered amid my not getting my way.

Though these types of temptations don't grab as high of ratings as the ones featured on daytime television talk shows, they are just as destructive because they have the same root. That root is a self-centeredness that warps the words of Jesus when it cries out, "My kingdom come, my will be done on earth as it is in my heaven."

When I get to facing those temptations that are complicated, personal, and not likely to end up getting me arrested or fired, I usually prefer to shuffle my feet, sway, and snap my fingers in hopes that they will all just go away. And the culture around me seems to agree that this is the right answer.

But I have a God who loves me. I've asked Him to take over my life, and not just the parts that grab the headlines but the fine print, too. Knowing that, then, my prayer this day can be,

Suffer us not to be lead into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever and ever. Amen.

Terminal

He lamented the same topic each time we visited. His girlfriend had a terminal illness.

I never met his girlfriend; I never knew her name. I don't know where she lived, though he was basically homeless so I'm not sure how that all worked anyway. Occasionally he would ask that I remember her in prayer.

The thing with her illness was that, though there was no cure, her death from it was not expected any time soon. In fact, the disease didn't have a direct obvious impact on her physical well being. She was in the very early stages of this slowly progressing illness and the doctors had predicted it would have minimal impact on her for the next 10 years. The prognosis was for gradual decline after that. Since she was already in her late 50s, with mindful monitoring she would most likely live for what most people would consider a full life.

None of this seemed to matter to him, though. The fact that she had a terminal illness obsessed his mind and depleted his well-being.

One day as he again lamented about the situation, I turned to him and was surprised to hear the following statement come out of my mouth:

"You know, we're all terminal. She just knows what from."

He gave me an odd look and changed the topic of conversation.

I saw him again about a week later. He looked about 2 inches taller and 10 years younger. His demeanor, actions, and conversation were filled with a new vitality. In our visits from that time forward he no longer obsessed about the terminal nature of his girlfriend's illness. He would occasionally mention that her illness was terminal but always followed it with a grin and the words, " . . . but, we all are."

That little statement changed his life for the better. When I remember it my life is better, too.

There are only a few material things like pyramids and Great Walls and Colosseums that have survived the ages and they're mostly in some state of ruin. Virtually all of the music ever composed or words ever written will never be heard again. The churches that Paul helped establish are not mega-churches or beacons of Christianity today.

Some might find that depressing. For me it's a relief. It takes the pressure off of me and reorders priorities. Sermons and public prayers change from speaking words today for all eternity to speaking eternal words for today. Building a church that will endure changes from setting things up now that will be right forever to forever setting things up that will be right for now.

Ministry comes not in monuments but in moments, and moments are fleeting. We're all terminal; our works, our ideas, our selves.

And just once in a while I have a day when I'm not obsessively lamenting that fact. It's then that I can let the One who was and is and is to come fully invade and embrace His terminal creation known as me, bringing with Him into this fleeting moment the vitality of His everlasting life.

Thank you, God, for each moment. Free me from my focus on the temporary to live fully in Your presence.