Brown construction paper.
That, plus some well-worn crayons and dull scissors, composed our entire allotment of our craft supplies.
And for I-don't-know-how-many weeks in a row, whenever the kids came to church, craft time meant making things out of brown construction paper.
We'd scoured the Bible looking for stories we could share with the kids in which a corresponding craft could be based on brown construction paper:
-Crosses
-Loaves and Fishes
-10 Commandments tablets
-Boats for Peter to step out of
-Bricks for the Tower of Babel
-Balaam's Donkey
-Rocks (as in "He who is without sin may cast the first stone")
As the list grew so did the desperation.
Walking to the church that chilly, gray Sunday afternoon, brown construction paper was all I had. I had no lesson. I had no activity. I had no idea what to do with the paper or the kids and no energy left to even try to figure anything out.
I'd like to say that I prayed for wisdom or inspiration or for a miracle or a combination thereof but I was too drained for that. It was a more of a half-hearted "Whatever" kind of prayer instead.
I arrived at the church just as one of our volunteers was pulling up in her car. She beeped the horn and flagged me over.
As I crossed the street she hopped out of her car and said, "My mom was in town and we were at Sam's Club yesterday. She asked if she could buy some things for the church."
As she said this the trunk popped open revealing its contents. In it were stacks of construction paper of every possible color. There were buckets of magic markers and containers of scissors. Yarn. Tape. Clay. Glue (both bottles and sticks!). The smell of the fresh boxes of crayons was the sweetest perfume.
This was Noah's rainbow and Joseph's coat of many colors and the lilies of the field and Lydia's purple goods all stuffed in a Nissan Sentra. We emptied the trunk and set the supplies on the table for all the kids to see.
And they reveled in the color. Busy hands drew and colored and folded and cut. Boisterous voices and laughter joined the celebration. Today there was no hunting and hording and fighting over the best crayons. Instead, the bounty shared with us begot a sharing of this bounty with one another.
Today's craft:
Thank You Cards.
Whatever, Lord. Whatever.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Important
The kids were getting squirrely. Through their participation in church they had earned a trip to a local restaurant for ice cream sundaes.
Vanilla
Chocolate
Whipped Cream
Sprinkles
Hot Fudge
Cherries
Though these items were all clearly on the menu, all we'd been given so far was glasses of water. We'd been seated for nearly an hour.
The wait staff had been running around the restaurant and seeming to work. Yet, when we looked around, we noticed no one else in the restaurant had ice cream, either. Meanwhile, the line at the entrance grew longer and longer, winding out the door and into the night.
Our ability to entertain our kids had maxed out quite a bit earlier so I flagged down the manager to get an update on our order. He let us know that their computer system had gone down and they were all working on it. "Once it's fixed we'll be able to fill your order," he said.
Getting desperate, I looked at him and said, "I know that the computer system is really important to you, but as a customer, I don't care. It doesn't take a computer to put ice cream in a bowl."
He looked shocked. He then went over to the computer station and had all the wait staff start scooping ice cream and distributing desserts to the customers. As we were fed, the computer healed.
As a pastor it's easy for me to be like the manager of that restaurant. The things needed to make the church run smoothly don't always like me too much. It seems that if the video projector is working then the sound system refuses to do so. The box of scissors goes rogue at craft time and there aren't enough green crayons to go around. The Popsicles leak all over the freezer and turn everything in it blue. And the package I thought was toilet paper was actually paper towels and we're now Charmin-free with a line of little kids at the bathroom.
And that's before we even begin to talk about the all-consuming denominational issues, interpersonal conflicts, theological hot spots, spiritual authority questions, and meetings upon meetings upon meetings.
But none of these things are on the list of why people come through the door of the church.
Healing
Hope
Repentance
Strength
Encouragement
Wisdom
Prayer
Community
Praise
Fellowship
These are the things people seek. Though the background organizing is important to make sure the doors stay open and the big issues of the day will eventually impact how we deliver the Message, I need to make sure I focus my energy, and everyone else's, too, on helping people get what they so desperately needed that they found their way to the church's doors.
Because Jesus didn't say that he came so we could be organized and have all the answered nailed down. The Pharisees and Sadducees already had a corner on that market. He said that He came that we could have life, full and abundant (John 10:10).
And the world is getting more than squirrely; it groans for the liberating truth of the Gospel. May I not focus so much on the church's internal workings and, instead, serve those who have come so that they might find what they seek and not be left standing out in the dark.
Lord, be my vision.
Vanilla
Chocolate
Whipped Cream
Sprinkles
Hot Fudge
Cherries
Though these items were all clearly on the menu, all we'd been given so far was glasses of water. We'd been seated for nearly an hour.
The wait staff had been running around the restaurant and seeming to work. Yet, when we looked around, we noticed no one else in the restaurant had ice cream, either. Meanwhile, the line at the entrance grew longer and longer, winding out the door and into the night.
Our ability to entertain our kids had maxed out quite a bit earlier so I flagged down the manager to get an update on our order. He let us know that their computer system had gone down and they were all working on it. "Once it's fixed we'll be able to fill your order," he said.
Getting desperate, I looked at him and said, "I know that the computer system is really important to you, but as a customer, I don't care. It doesn't take a computer to put ice cream in a bowl."
He looked shocked. He then went over to the computer station and had all the wait staff start scooping ice cream and distributing desserts to the customers. As we were fed, the computer healed.
As a pastor it's easy for me to be like the manager of that restaurant. The things needed to make the church run smoothly don't always like me too much. It seems that if the video projector is working then the sound system refuses to do so. The box of scissors goes rogue at craft time and there aren't enough green crayons to go around. The Popsicles leak all over the freezer and turn everything in it blue. And the package I thought was toilet paper was actually paper towels and we're now Charmin-free with a line of little kids at the bathroom.
And that's before we even begin to talk about the all-consuming denominational issues, interpersonal conflicts, theological hot spots, spiritual authority questions, and meetings upon meetings upon meetings.
But none of these things are on the list of why people come through the door of the church.
Healing
Hope
Repentance
Strength
Encouragement
Wisdom
Prayer
Community
Praise
Fellowship
These are the things people seek. Though the background organizing is important to make sure the doors stay open and the big issues of the day will eventually impact how we deliver the Message, I need to make sure I focus my energy, and everyone else's, too, on helping people get what they so desperately needed that they found their way to the church's doors.
Because Jesus didn't say that he came so we could be organized and have all the answered nailed down. The Pharisees and Sadducees already had a corner on that market. He said that He came that we could have life, full and abundant (John 10:10).
And the world is getting more than squirrely; it groans for the liberating truth of the Gospel. May I not focus so much on the church's internal workings and, instead, serve those who have come so that they might find what they seek and not be left standing out in the dark.
Lord, be my vision.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Thwap
Thwap!
We all heard it and knew what it meant.
A couple people glanced around to see who would respond but she and I already had sufficient adrenaline in us. We had jumped up from our chairs and were now heading toward the thwap.
Prayer meeting would have to wait.
As we turned on the lights in the storage room we could see the rat in the trap.
"It's still alive!" she yelled as the rat and trap dragged themselves across the carpet. "Give me a pipe."
A little scared (of her, not the rat) I handed over an old piece of pipe that was by the door. She took it and immediately began bludgeoning the creature.
It tried to escape but it was no match to her passion. The blood-stained wall and the new markings on the carpet now warned future predators of her victory.
Two latex gloves and one plastic bag later, I disposed of the corpse while she reset the trap.
Prayer meeting resumed.
When I'm trying to exterminate things that make my life miserable, like my issues and ego and habits and insecurities (read: sin) I want someone like this woman on the journey with me.
I need people to pray with me. But once in a while when the time is right, I need them to also courageously march into the dark rooms inside me where I store my old stuff, turn on some light, and take a blunt object to the problem.
Though it's messy and uncomfortable, it's important.
Because I remember years ago the letter from my pastor that contained the direct correction I needed. And I remember the annoyingly persistent accountability from a fellow disciple during a time of rapid personal growth. And I remember the counselor finally saying, "Just get over it." Those things helped free me and helped me grow more than closing our eyes and praying harder would have.
Each of those people had a choice. They could have let fear of damaging our relationships get in the way of what needed to be done and glanced around hoping for someone else to do the job. But they knew that out of relationships based on solid faith, prayer, and mutual respect come opportunities to engage in passionate, scary, dangerous, painful conflict that can ultimately lead to a more whole self.
And though our relationship may get a little stained and bloodied at first, I have to trust that His grace will sustain us and open the possibility for even deeper friendship as a result.
It's then that we are truly free to resume our prayers before our Maker together.
Lord, help me hear, know, and respond well to Truth.
We all heard it and knew what it meant.
A couple people glanced around to see who would respond but she and I already had sufficient adrenaline in us. We had jumped up from our chairs and were now heading toward the thwap.
Prayer meeting would have to wait.
As we turned on the lights in the storage room we could see the rat in the trap.
"It's still alive!" she yelled as the rat and trap dragged themselves across the carpet. "Give me a pipe."
A little scared (of her, not the rat) I handed over an old piece of pipe that was by the door. She took it and immediately began bludgeoning the creature.
It tried to escape but it was no match to her passion. The blood-stained wall and the new markings on the carpet now warned future predators of her victory.
Two latex gloves and one plastic bag later, I disposed of the corpse while she reset the trap.
Prayer meeting resumed.
When I'm trying to exterminate things that make my life miserable, like my issues and ego and habits and insecurities (read: sin) I want someone like this woman on the journey with me.
I need people to pray with me. But once in a while when the time is right, I need them to also courageously march into the dark rooms inside me where I store my old stuff, turn on some light, and take a blunt object to the problem.
Though it's messy and uncomfortable, it's important.
Because I remember years ago the letter from my pastor that contained the direct correction I needed. And I remember the annoyingly persistent accountability from a fellow disciple during a time of rapid personal growth. And I remember the counselor finally saying, "Just get over it." Those things helped free me and helped me grow more than closing our eyes and praying harder would have.
Each of those people had a choice. They could have let fear of damaging our relationships get in the way of what needed to be done and glanced around hoping for someone else to do the job. But they knew that out of relationships based on solid faith, prayer, and mutual respect come opportunities to engage in passionate, scary, dangerous, painful conflict that can ultimately lead to a more whole self.
And though our relationship may get a little stained and bloodied at first, I have to trust that His grace will sustain us and open the possibility for even deeper friendship as a result.
It's then that we are truly free to resume our prayers before our Maker together.
Lord, help me hear, know, and respond well to Truth.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Great
Some places call it "Prayer and Testimony" and no one comes. We call it "Open Mike" and people get excited about the opportunity.
And he was excited as he came up the front of the church that Sunday morning after Christmas.
"This was the best Christmas EVER!" he exclaimed. He then told of not even wanting gifts and instead taking the money he was given and buying candy for the neighbor kids. He talked about how great it was to be looking for ways to help people instead of just wanting more things.
He ended with,"And up until a couple of weeks ago I'd never even been in a church before. This stuff is GREAT!"
He laughed out loud all the way back to his seat and we celebrated by joining him in laughter and applause.
For me it's easy to forget that this stuff is GREAT. The daily grind of preparing for and cleaning up after church activities, the constant pressing needs of the community, the seeming hopelessness of the conditions in the neighborhood, all on top of my own unresolved issues clutters the manger so much that it's sometimes hard to see the Baby.
But when someone comes in and sees Jesus for the first time, the clutter gets pushed out of the way and I, too, can stand in awe of Him and the greatness of His ways.
And when I can, my life again becomes its own "Open Mike" in the world as the Joy, Hope, Love, and Peace of the Gospel are lived out loud.
Lord, let me delight in You always.
And he was excited as he came up the front of the church that Sunday morning after Christmas.
"This was the best Christmas EVER!" he exclaimed. He then told of not even wanting gifts and instead taking the money he was given and buying candy for the neighbor kids. He talked about how great it was to be looking for ways to help people instead of just wanting more things.
He ended with,"And up until a couple of weeks ago I'd never even been in a church before. This stuff is GREAT!"
He laughed out loud all the way back to his seat and we celebrated by joining him in laughter and applause.
For me it's easy to forget that this stuff is GREAT. The daily grind of preparing for and cleaning up after church activities, the constant pressing needs of the community, the seeming hopelessness of the conditions in the neighborhood, all on top of my own unresolved issues clutters the manger so much that it's sometimes hard to see the Baby.
But when someone comes in and sees Jesus for the first time, the clutter gets pushed out of the way and I, too, can stand in awe of Him and the greatness of His ways.
And when I can, my life again becomes its own "Open Mike" in the world as the Joy, Hope, Love, and Peace of the Gospel are lived out loud.
Lord, let me delight in You always.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Not
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.
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.
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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