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A few years ago, I wrote an article about "non-random acts of kindness." The holiday season, which is nearly upon us (is upon us if you listen to the all-Christmas-music-all-the-time radio station), is a great time for specific acts of kindness.
The pinch I've felt this year and at various other times in my life (e.g., as a college student), is a lack of financial resources for giving. That's why it's great that many acts of kindness carry no price tag. Here are a few ideas:
Free babysitting. This weekend my husband and I are babysitting for our pastor and his wife. We had wanted to do something for them during Clergy Appreciation Month in October but were tight on funds. However, when I mentioned free babysitting, my pastor's face lit up. "We haven't been able to go on a date since September!" he said.
Gift cards. Each year I receive an assortment of gift cards. A grocery card from work. Multiple Starbucks cards (everyone knows about my habit). And various other cards to restaurants, movie theaters and stores. I'm not advocating re-gifting Mom's sole Christmas gift to you, but if an extra gift card comes your way, why not pass it on to someone who needs it more than you do?
Food. The holidays are a great time to make someone a meal or prepare plates of cookies for neighbors or shut-ins. My high school youth group used to spend an evening caroling to all the older people in our church and taking them plates of cookies.
Hospitality. Give the gift of your home. People love a warm, happy place to gather. Host a Thanksgiving or Christmas get-together. Serve Christmas treats, play some games and watch a holiday movie. I have a friend who loves to put on a "romantic dinner" at her house each time one of her friends gets engaged as her gift to the couple.
Nice stuff you don't need. Do you have extra items you're thinking of selling on craigslist? Why not give away quality items instead. When Kevin and I got married, we ended up with an extra king-sized bed. Kevin learned that one of his coworkers was six months pregnant and sharing a double bed with her husband. When we offered her the bed she was thrilled and offered to pick it up the next day!
The holidays are a great time to reach out to people, though opportunities to bless others with kindness exist year round:
Part of being a blessing to others is being alert to opportunities. If an affirming thought comes into your mind, say it. If you wonder if someone is in need, offer to help. If you find yourself thinking of a person, go a step further and act. A little deliberate kindness goes a long way.
And the great news is ... kindness is absolutely free.
During a recent drive, I was listening to the radio. I awoke from my typical "glazed over" demeanor as my ears perked up to a pet store commercial. Between the specials and sales, it urged all "pet parents" to bring their pets along to the store.
Did I hear that right, I wondered? Then it came again. Don't forget, pet parents, that your pets are always welcome at our store.
Pet ... parents? Really? It just sounded odd to me.
Now, I think (or am hoping) that I got their meaning. Maybe they didn't exactly mean "parents," as though pets were equivalent to children. I'm guessing that they probably just wanted words that were a little more endearing than the rather stark "pet owner" -- a phrase that better evoked the care and companionship we often feel for our pets.
I'm hopeful that neither the store nor its customers would equate parenting (the raising and shaping of an eternal soul, an image bearer of God) with the care of a pet. But I wondered, too, if that phrase was a small symbol of a growing fuzziness, even among Christians.
Dr. Albert Mohler writes about that on his blog, as he comments on a recent Associated Press article about the increase of church "special services" for believers and their dogs.
Pointing out that such services represent a "deep theological confusion," he writes: ...As Christians, we are to see the glory of God in the diversity and wonders of the animal kingdom. We are to respect all animals as intentional creations of God and to acknowledge the gifts that these creatures represent. At the same time ... As the image-bearers of God, humans alone have the capacity to know and to worship the Creator. Animals reflect the glory of God, but only human beings can see the glory of God and know the Creator. Animals may possess consciousness, but they do not have souls. ...America is a pet-centric culture, and this reveals much about us. We have the wealth to spend billions of dollars on pets. The ownership and enjoyment of pets is a sign of wealth and plenty. We are also a society that is trading human relationships for the companionship of pets. We cut off our elderly from extended family and leave them alone with their pets. We see increasing numbers of younger people who decide not to have children, but instead to pour themselves into relationships with their pets. Restaurants, malls, and hotels are asked to allow pets even as they allow children. Professor Hobgood-Oster points to the pet-centricity of our society as evidence of "the changing family structure, where pets are really central." The woman who brought her two dogs to the "Canines at Covenant" service said, "I don't have any kids, so my pets have always been my children." Postmodern Americans see these statements as evidence of new lifestyle choices. Christians should see these statements as tragic.
Do you think Americans, and those around the world, are "trading human relationships for the companionship of pets"?
USA Today is talking about the new trend of "virtual church." In an article titled, "Internet believers: Pastors open online churches," Rachel Zoll writes:
The World Wide Web has become the hottest place to build a church. A growing number of congregations are creating Internet offshoots that go far beyond streaming weekly services.
The sites are fully interactive, with a dedicated Internet pastor, live chat in an online "lobby," Bible study, one-on-one prayer through IM and communion. (Viewers use their own bread and wine or water from home.) On one site, viewers can click on a tab during worship to accept Christ as their savior. Flamingo Road Church, based in Cooper City, Fla., twice conducted long-distance baptisms through the Internet.
Zoll writes that advocates feel that the internet is "just another neighborhood where real relationships can be built" and that they feel "a religious duty to harness this new way for reaching the spiritually lost."
"We live in a day and age and a culture where people go to school online, bank online, date online and do other things online," said Kurt Ervin, who oversees the Internet campus for Central Christian Church, based in Henderson, Nev. "Why not create a platform for them to go to church online?"
Still, the author writes, "the staunchest critics say that true Christian community ultimately requires in-person interaction."
One of those critics is Mark Olson who, over at Evangel, lists three features of worship that virtual churches lack, and why we should be concerned about them.
- Sacrifice. Olson writes, "The service is our offering to God and part of that sacrifice to God is of our time and our presence. Reducing that sacrifice to sitting before your computer screen in your proverbial pajamas certainly severely diminishes if not eliminates the sacrifice involved."
- Holiness. "For myself, I fail to see how participation and contact with the Holy can be done by wire."
- Contact with the liturgy and with the community. "We have 5 senses. A virtual service may serve, poorly, two (hearing and sight) ... man, created in the image of God is not purely rational and the organism and the meat of us is part of that image."
I think Olson makes some good points. For me lately, though, I've found the importance of the side-by-side church in its messiness.
My church and I are just going through a rough period right now. We're disagreeing on decisions. We're on different pages on program priorities. We're, too often, misunderstanding each others intentions and motives. And, sometimes, we're just annoying each other.
So much so that a few times in the past year I've wondered where that church that I have loved and treasured so much for the last seven years has gone.
It hasn't been fun or easy. But it has forced me to ask some tough questions. Could it be that God is allowing this time to work out my sanctification? Have I taken for granted the easier times? Am I just too spoiled to stick with it during the "bear with one another" times? Is there some serious selfishness that needs shaving off of me that only reveals its head during frustration?
I don't know all the answers, of course. I just know that when I rub shoulders with my fellow believers I have gotten both blessings and blisters -- and it could be that God is using both to mold me.
It seems a bit strange to me that I would come to treasure my church for the, shall I say, just "yuck" that we're going through. Stranger still that I would argue for the side-by-side church because of the "yuck" we have to go through sometimes. Still, I know, that online I can be polished and edited and not be bothered. But it's the bothering me -- it's the blisters -- that God is using the most right now. And I don't get that virtually.
Last night I was chatting with a friend who is going through a painful break-up. As we talked about the loss he was feeling, he said, "I just don't want to be alone." None of us do.
I remember reading an article about loneliness a few years ago. The article talked about the decline of friendship in American society:
In Norman Rockwell's classic 1943 painting, "Freedom from Want," an extended family is gathered around the table to celebrate a holiday feast. Fast-forward 63 years to Thanksgiving [this year] and — while lack of food is still a problem for too many in this land of plenty — you are much more likely to find want of a different kind. More and more Americans are starving for significant relationships.
The article highlights a study published by the American Sociological Review that shows a "remarkable drop in the size of people's core network of confidants — those with whom they could talk about important matters." Twenty-five percent of Americans reported having no confidants at all — up from 10 percent in 1985. The article relates this trend to the decrease of marriage:
Perhaps the same thing that is sabotaging marriage is undermining friendship: our increasing unwillingness to commit to relationships that require sacrifice, mutual accountability, and a generous share of humility. That refusal is often not so much willful as fearful.
People may fear the commitment friendship entails, but they remain fascinated with it. The long-standing popularity of TV programs such as Cheers, Friends, and now Grey's Anatomy — which portray the lives of people in multilayered friendships — signals that fascination.
These types of friendships can be hard to come by in real life, but as followers of Jesus we have greater access to meaningful relationships through the body of believers. What would happen if we extended that family feeling to those who are suffocating from loneliness? Reaching the lost, the article points out, may be as simple as being a friend.
"God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing." —Psalm 68:6
Hm. Yeah? How much less?
I think what you mean is that you couldn't care less.
Carry on.
I'm not a natural helper.
I have to force myself to help friends move, show up early to church to set up chairs and make meals for people who need them. But I do ... force myself. Because it seems clear from Scripture that we're all on the hook to be the hands and feet of Jesus to others through acts of service.
Though I try not to hide behind it, I've never considered myself to have the "gift of helps." But Friday's post on "Stuff Christians Like" challenges the notion of this "gift:"
A couple years ago I got in a heated argument with a fairly well-known Christian author when he was guest speaking in our Sunday school class. He was talking about how we each have spiritual gifts, which is totally valid, but by way of example he happened to mention that you would never find him sweeping up the church because he didn’t have the “Gift of Helps.”
I suggested that the idea of a gift of “Helps” was invented by people who were too lazy to pitch in and help out around the church. I asked him if he was seriously suggesting that he couldn’t put a chair away because he didn’t have that spiritual gift. “I see that those chairs need to be put away, and I’m just standing here. I wish I could help, I really do. If only God had blessed me with the Gift of Helps!”
I think this concept has been abused. After all, aren't all believers called to help one another? I wrote about this in "Useful Christian:"
Everyone has something to contribute to God's work (Romans 12). Part of the challenge is just showing up. While the Bible doesn't come out and say, "Make yourself useful!" the concept is implied. The imagery of a body, in which each limb, organ and muscle does its part, reinforces the idea that you should be doing simply what you are able.
In a day of sophisticated spiritual gifts tests and leadership training, some Christians may feel like they have little to offer. Others may feel that pulling weeds, making peanut butter sandwiches or holding babies doesn't properly utilize their "gifts."
When I'm tempted to think certain tasks are not worth my time, I remember my pastor. Most Sundays I see him pushing carts of chairs long after service has ended. It's a task any able bodied person could do, but Pastor is quick to pitch in wherever there is need.
Spiritual gifts should not be used as excuses to abandon the more practical, daily offerings of the Christian life. Sometimes washing a sink of dishes speaks louder than preaching a sermon.
So every Thursday I send out the weekly Boundless e-newsletter. Along with a review of the latest articles, blogs, podcast and other stuff, I write an engaging editorial.
This week I thought it'd be fun to give a shout-out to our Facebook fans. So that's exactly what I'm going to do -- simply "fan" us over on Facebook, and leave a comment letting me know that you want a personal mention in today's e-newsletter, and if you get in before I finish writing it, you'll be in it.
Good times. Good community. Good grief. That's Boundless.
My last published article "Quarantining a Generation" discussed the difficulty single young adults in their 20s and 30s have fitting into churches. Today's featured article, "Plugging Into the Church" gives practical ideas for making your church family feel like, well, family.
For me, feeling at home in the church has been a journey. One suggestion I give in the article is to get to know your pastor, something that I was hesitant to do for some time. Once I did make a move, the result was encouraging.
Last year, I made an effort to talk to my pastor almost every week after church. We graduated from the same small Bible college, so that gave us some common ground. Each week I would tell him something I liked about the sermon or share a story about my kids' Sunday school class. Soon he knew my name and would approach me and ask how I was doing.
When I became engaged to Kevin earlier this year, my pastor told me he had been praying for a godly spouse for me. This meant a lot, since I go to a church with 1,200 members. Most pastors want to get to know the people in their churches. But they may need you to take the first step.
October is Clergy Appreciation Month. What better time to take the first step to get to know your pastor? Invite he and his wife out for coffee. Introduce yourself after church. Invite your pastor's family over for dinner or invite them to join you for a special event. How have you connected with your church leadership?
Four years ago, I wrote an article called "Quarantining a Generation" (republished as today's feature article). I was shocked to receive more than 50 e-mails in response. Most were from 20-something singles like me who resonated with the article's premise that it is difficult for young adults to find community in churches. But a handful of letters were from pastors and ministry leaders asking how they could make their churches more hospitable to my generation. I was excited to see such a passionate response.
In the article, I talk about the model of the early church, which was obviously successful since thousands were being added to their numbers daily. A main strength I see is intergenerational community:
The church was established to glorify God and to provide a place for believers to challenge, encourage and support one another. Those who previously had little in common became one unit through belief in Christ. Paul explained it like this: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female," single nor married, young nor old, "for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28). I added those last two, but I believe they are in the spirit of Paul's intent.
This unity inspired people to share everything they had, to invite widows and orphans into their homes and to demonstrate a love and cooperation that drew non-believers like a magnet. Spending their time together in each other's homes, church members operated much like a family.
During my years as a single young adult, I have felt the power of the church best when this family element is present. Young families who have invited me into their homes for dinner. A pastor and his wife who initiated meeting me for coffee. Older women who stepped in as godly mentors. These people made me feel worthwhile, like I belonged. As much as I enjoy my peers, the deeper acceptance was felt in intergenerational connections. In response to the trend toward young adult services, I write:
In order for these relationships to take place, all ages must exist in community together. With the growing number of alternative services, young adults are missing out on relationships that provide wise counsel, build spiritual maturity and help bridge the gap to the next stage of life.
I have discovered that my generation is quick to point out all that is wrong with the church. However, I believe many of our core spiritual needs can be met within that very community. That is why Christ established the church in the first place.
Since I wrote this article, I have pressed on in seeking out intergenerational church fellowship (it has required some hard decisions). My ministry with children and interactions with volunteers who were not my peers ultimately led me into the path of my husband, who shares my heart for intergenerational church. And while I waited for a spouse, those rich relationships diminished loneliness and gave me a place to belong.
The ladies at the Girl Talk blog are running a great series on hospitality. I was recently having a conversation with my husband about wanting our home to be a hospitable place. One house I lived at several years ago was the kind of place that everyone loved to come to and hang out in. I grew up in a house like that, and I want my home to be that way.
Why is hospitality important? From Girl Talk:
If we have trusted in Jesus, we have found a home in God. We were once strangers, alienated from God because of our sin. But through the suffering of Jesus Christ, we have been brought near to God. We are not strangers anymore.
We have received the ultimate act of hospitality! How can we not, in turn, show grace and love to others by extending hospitality to strangers?
I'm trying to think of a single time I showed hospitality to a stranger. (I did bring a Swiss skateboarder home from the airport once and one of my guy friends showed him hospitality.) But hospitality can begin with the people we know. People from church and work. Bringing people into a welcoming home speaks of our welcoming God.
Obviously, it's important. Romans 12:13 says: "Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality."
How have you practiced hospitality? How can you cultivate this practice? What makes a home warm and welcoming to you?
My wife wrote a blog post. So I don't have to. Thanks, wife.
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I think my husband Ted has watched School of Rock one too many times.
As our resident musician, he's recently determined that it's his responsibility to educate our kids in music. While he has yet to put a drum set in the living room or enter our kids in a Battle of the Bands Contest, he has instituted a Music Appreciation class of sorts. We've listened to Stevie Wonder, Chicago, Rush, and more classical music than I care to list.
Yesterday marked Beatles Appreciation Day here. OK, so maybe not officially. But we did spend a good portion of our Wednesday listening to the Beatles.
Ted firmly believes that the Beatles are an essential part of any musical education. So in his quest to introduce our three young daughters to what he considers foundational, we've been ingesting the Fab Four.
So far the responses have been mixed.
While my 5-year-old was convinced that "Love Me Do" is perfect campfire music, my 1-year-old eagerly danced to the rock n' roll crafted decades before her birth. My 3-year-old was oblivious, despite her love for music. Although I did manage to draw a giggle from her when I grabbed her hand and sang along to "I Want to Hold Your Hand."
What have I personally discovered about the Beatles? I've learned that a song like "Eleanor Rigby" is haunting -- especially after reading a two-part article like George Haltizka's "Everett Bradley." This fictional account reminded me that lonely people exist in all seasons of life, whether in the form of an 84-year-old man named Everett, a middle-aged man named Tom, or a teenager named Stacy.
Have you ever felt lonely? I have.
I've wondered, as the Beatles ask of lonely people, Where do I belong? I have felt useless like Everett Bradley.
While I'm not eager to return to a season of loneliness, I am thankful for what it has taught me.
First, I shouldn't discount how God can use lonely seasons in my life to draw me closer to Him. Loneliness has driven me to a place of complete dependency, where I can't run to a friend in place of running to Him. How easy it is, when a problem arises, to call a friend and ask, "Can you pray for me?" before I've even bothered to stop and pray myself.
It's through these lonely seasons that I've remembered, I'm never truly alone. I have a wondrous Savior at my side, who has promised that He will never leave me or forsake me.
And second, it's made me more aware of the lonely people I come in contact with in daily life. Those who have just moved into the area or have yet to find their place in a community. I admit most of the time I fail to reach out to others; often I'm too distracted with my kids. But I want to improve. I want to do better.
Today we're listening to a CD titled 100 Best Ballet. The response from my girls is more united. Two out of three jumped at the opportunity to prance around the house dressed as ballerinas. The third? Well, she decided to dress as a rock star. Perhaps she gleaned more from the Beatles yesterday than merely "campfire music."
Bob Kauflin, Boundless author and Director of Worship Development for Sovereign Grace Ministries, has been leading corporate worship for over 30 years. And he's never been more passionate about the cross of Christ.
In his most recent blog post, "Lessons Learned From Three Decades of Leading," Bob writes about "why the cross should play such a central role in our singing." He then goes on to reference his friend CJ Mahaney's thoughts on cross-centered worship. CJ give four reasons why "Cross-centered worship songs are vital to the life of the church":
- First, since the cross is the storyline of Scripture, it should be the storyline of our corporate worship.
- Second, we must never leave the impression during corporate worship that we do not need a mediator.
- Third, cross-centered songs imitate the heavenly model.
- Forth, cross-centered songs affect our souls.
I touched on this a while back in "The Cross: Crucial in Worship":
There is no greater mystery, nothing that inspires more wonder, than the crucifixion of our Lord. It was the greatest act of both love and hate ever portrayed. It's a manifestation of both the stratospheric height of God's mercy and the grimy depth of our sin.
Paul boasted in but one thing: the cross. The hosts of heaven include Jesus' death in their continuous expression of praise, day and night. My sin, as the old hymn goes, not in part but the whole, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more. We are reconciled to God through the cross of Christ.
You could ponder the cross for a lifetime and never fully explore its depth and significance. It's both simple and complex. It's seen as both foolishness and the pinnacle of wisdom. It illustrates both divine compassion and divine wrath. Christ the all-powerful was crucified in weakness. It's both glorious and shameful. It shows us both God's fierce anger and His lovingkindness.
So if the cross is central to our faith, and will be throughout eternity, why is it so little referenced in the songs we sing at church?
Why, indeed?
If you're a worship leader, I implore you: Please seek out songs about the cross of Christ for your congregation to sing. If you're not a worship leader, please consider sharing this blog post on Facebook, or directly with your pastor. I'd love to see a broader discussion of the relevance of the cross in congregational singing.
I was just reading an essay written by FW Boreham called “Dominoes.” Only he could find an application from the game of dominoes.
In it he talks about how he was struck by the two key elements of the game while he was playing with a friend. First, the goal is to match your opponent’s play. If they play a six, you play a six. If they play a four, so must you. If you can’t match their number, then you give up a turn. And that'll put you at a disadvantage because the second goal is to play your highest piece possible each turn. The first person to play all their pieces is the winner.
And then he makes this powerful observation:
It occurred to me whilst we were playing that life itself is but a game of dominoes. Its highest art lies in matching your companion’s pieces. Is he glad? It is a great thing to be able to rejoice with those who do rejoice. Is he sad? It is a great thing to be able to weep with those who weep. It means, of course, that if you answer the challenge every time, your pieces will soon be gone. But, as against that, it is worth remembering that victory lies not in accumulation, but in exhaustion. The player who is left with empty hands wins everything.
He goes on to say about his friend who had challenged him to a game:
I could scarcely imagine him playing dominoes! That is the pity of it. You never know how many people there are who are waiting for a chance of playing dominoes with you. The most unlikely people play at dominoes.
As I read through the examples he used to illustrate that point, I suddenly smiled as I thought of how I’ve experience that. Sometimes it’s the most unexpected response from the most unexpected person that can help give me the encouragement and empowerment that I need in that moment.
Being there for someone through all their hurts and joys is a tremendous gift to that person. But what does that mean for you? In the dominoes game of life can we be assured of having someone like that when we need them?
I’ll let Boreham explain the answer:
And surely this is the secret of the wonderful appeal that the Cross makes to me. It is divine sorrow exactly matching human sorrow.... He was crucified between two thieves as an emblem of the fact that He laid His anguish beside our human anguish, His heartache and heart-break beside our own. In matching our sorrows He poured out His own divinest treasure without stint and without reserve. He gave everything, and because He gave everything, He must win everything.
I think there is a difference between not being on Facebook and being anti-Facebook. I am the former, but not the latter.
Actually, that's not true. I am not the former either. I did join Facebook two years ago in response to a youth group reunion page. But my page has sat empty and lonely ever since. (Truth be told, I didn't realize Facebook had created a page -- just thought I had gained access to the youth group page.)
So, yes, I have let the phenomena that is Facebook pass me by. But I am not a foaming anti-Facebook-ite. I really can see the draw. There have even been times when I have had Facebook-envy. I am, without question, the last one in my circle of acquaintance to get the latest news. Them: "Oh, didn't you know that she closed on her house/is going out-of-town this weekend/has taken up knitting?"
Me: "Oh, no, I didn't know that."
Them (questioningly and ... or am I paranoid? ... a little accusingly): "But it's on her Facebook page."
I have even, I think, risked some professional street cred. Boundless has friended me several times. Each time, I think I hear Ted's voice, "Heather, get on Facebook and into the 21st century!"
But it appears that by missing the tide of Facebook popularity, I may now be on the cusp of the latest trend: leaving Facebook. I love going from a dinosaur to hip without any effort.
According to a recent New York Times article, "Facebook Exodus", "while people are still joining Facebook and compulsively visiting the site, a small but noticeable group are fleeing — some of them ostentatiously." Like one user who got sick of the commercialization and corporate regulation and now sells t-shirts that encourage others to "Shut Your Facebook!" The young man told the Times: "The more dependent we allow ourselves to become to something like Facebook — and Facebook does everything in its power to make you more dependent — the more Facebook can and does abuse us. It is not ‘your’ Facebook profile. It is Facebook’s profile about you.”
Others are leaving because "Facebook seemed to claim perpetual ownership of users’ contributions to the site." Still others, according to the article, got bored, felt that their "real" friendships were suffering, or got a little antsy about "guarding" their online persona.
For me, it was simply pre-addictive intentionality. I have enough of a struggle regulating my online time. I decided, for me, best never to go there.
But I just added another reason in the last few weeks. It's summed up well by a young lady in the Times article named Caroline Harting who explains why she left the online social site: "Facebook was stalking me."
"One day, on another Web site, she responded to an invitation to rate a movie she saw. The next time she logged on to Facebook, there was a message acknowledging that she had made the rating. “I didn’t appreciate being monitored so closely,” she wrote. She quit."
I feel like Facebook is stalking me too. Two weeks ago, I checked my e-mail to find 12 messages from "friends" who wanted to, well, be my friend. Huh? How did they know to find me? Surely a dozen friends were not just moved by the Spirit to seek me out. The next day: fifteen invites. Now besides getting a little too prideful about how many friends I must have, I was starting to get a little creeped out. A day of investigation later and I found out that "Facebook" (that ironicly faceless entity) was recommending me all over the place.
"Be Heather's friend," it told them. It forgot to mention that I didn't want any.
"Quit!" I cried at my computer screen the next day as I deleted five more requests. "I don't want to be a friend. Leave me alone!" Again, not enough to turn me anti-Facebook but enough to give me the willies and bring flashbacks of that Orwell book I had to read in American Lit.
So, what about you? Are you enjoying Facebook or feeling like some of the people in this article?
One writer told the Times, "I have noticed the exodus, and I kind of feel like it’s kids getting tired of a new toy. Facebook is good for finding people, but by now the novelty of that has worn off, and everyone’s been found.”
It seems some people are tired of being found. And some of us never wanted to be.
HT: Owen Strachan
Robert Feldman, a University of Massachusetts professor of psychology, has spent most of his career studying liars. He recently talked with Time about some of his research and his new book.
Feldman has found that not only do we lie frequently, but most of us don't even realize how much:
"People lie while they are getting acquainted an average of three times in a 10-minute period. Participants in my studies actually are not aware that they are lying that much until they watch videos of their interactions."
How did people react when confronted with their lies? With apathy, Feldman says:
"...They very rarely display remorse. Lying is not seen as being morally reprehensible in any strong way. We are living in a time and culture in which it's easier to lie than it has been in the past. The message that pervades society is that it's O.K. to lie — you can get away with it."
Feldman describes the problems he sees with our lie-saturated society:
"You can make the assumption that because it often makes social interactions go more smoothly, lying is O.K. But there is a cost to even seemingly benign lies. If people are always telling you that you look terrific and you did a great job on that presentation, there's no way to have an accurate understanding of yourself. Lies put a smudge on an interaction, and if it's easy to lie to people in minor ways, it becomes easier to lie in bigger ways."
What's more, Feldman says, is that sometimes we don't care that we're being lied to.
"When we ask someone, "How are you doing?" and they say, "Fine," we really don't want to know what their aches and pains are. So we take "Fine" at face value."
That interview got me thinking ... Had I told a lie today? And I realized that, yes, I had. It was a stupid, insignificant, just-didn't-want-to-get-into-an-explanation lie, but it was a lie nonetheless. And I could try to justify it by saying that it didn't hurt anyone. But, didn't it hurt me? Did it, to use Feldman's term, put a "smudge" on that interaction with a friend?
The Word is clear about this. Proverbs tells me that the Lord detests lying lips, but He delights in men who are truthful. John tells me that the devil is a liar and then emphasizes that point by calling lies his "native language" and describing him as "the father of lies."
I don't want to speak Satan's language. I want to be one who embraces the Truth.
Feldman says: "We have to be the kind of people who don't tell white lies. We don't have to be cruel and totally blunt, but we have to convey information honestly." I think he's absolutely right.
In today's featured article "Life. Support." Brenna Kate Simonds discusses the vital need for face-to-face friendships. After a tragic event in her life, Simonds discovered that, though she had hundreds of Facebook friends, she lacked friends who would invade her space and provide comfort. She writes:
I think everyone struggles with disconnect. It seems to have gotten worse now that you don't have to pick up the phone, write a letter or make a coffee date to connect with someone. The age of message boards, e-mail and Facebook gives me this false sense of security, that I have all these friends and I know what's going on with them and they know what's going on with me — people I rarely or never see for any kind of "face-to-face" interaction.
I've come to realize that's not what Jesus had in mind when He talked about sharing life with other believers.
I talked about the need for friendships between women in my article "Girls Need Girls."
Whether we women are aware of it or not, female friends contribute to our emotional and spiritual lives in a unique and essential way. Even married women need the intimacy and connection that comes from female friendships.
The same goes for men. A supportive network of godly friends can make all the difference when it comes to satisfaction with one's life, personal growth and godly living. Sometimes it feels as if these friendships are elusive, but seeking them out is worth the effort. Simonds writes:
Relationships take risks, they take time, but I need them in order to thrive. Following Jesus' example gives me courage to persevere in pursuing the kinds of relationships that Jesus had.
Those are the kinds of relationships that change the world.
There are two kinds of legalism among Christians. One is the kind that adds extra-biblical restrictions on Christian behavior like dancing or drinking alcohol. Then there's the kind that follows this phrase, "Show me in the Bible where ..."
When some people say this, what they really mean is, "Find a verse or passage that addresses my specific circumstance and I'll consider it unless, of course, there is something unique to my situation that it doesn't address and it fails to conform to my interpretation."
For some reason, I've had the privilege of addressing two such instances recently. I blogged about one of them here. But just over the last few days, I was hit with it again ...
"Show me in the Bible where it says you must confess your sin to the person you wronged in order to be right with God. My confession and repentance before God is enough."
What's great about these challenges is that I've found I actually delight in finding the truth. I usually have a general sense of what's right when I'm asked but often can't match it with a specific verse. I'm sure some people more biblically literate than I would have been able to quote Scripture right away with this latest "show me" challenge. But others aren't so obvious. Some require hard work searching the Scriptures and seeking the counsel of others. And whenever you work hard and search the Scriptures on a topic to help a brother or sister out, you begin to see all over again that 2 Timothy 3:15-17 really is true.
Though there's often no one verse or passage that addresses all of the specifics required by legalists, weighing Scripture against Scripture always provides an answer.
Oh, and in case you're wondering if there's a verse or passage that answers the latest challenge, consider this passage,
But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, 'You fool!' will be liable to the hell of fire. So if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift. -- Matthew 5:22-24
I guess the question here is, what if the person you've wronged isn't a "brother"?
To be quite honest, this summer has been the most difficult two months of my life. Much worse than anything I've ever gone through before.
Over the course of the last couple of years I've been faced with the fact that my plans haven't at all gone the way I thought they would. And as each plan seemed to fall apart, the emotions that resulted began to impact other areas of life too. Disappointment turned into frustration, frustration turned into confusion, confusion turned into hurt, and this summer hurt turned into the deepest pain I've ever felt.
I've had to take a good look at myself in the process, and the pain has only increased as I've realized the things I did that played a part in bringing about this trial. I've spent a lot of time in tears, and a lot of time on my knees. It's caused me to do a lot of soul searching, and I've made a lot of changes in my life
I've often had people tell me to try and put it in perspective; to realize that things could be much worse. And yes, there are horrific stories of heartache and anguish taking place all over the world. The news is full of them.
But when I hear that thought process, I can't help but feel that just because my hurt hasn't affected the world doesn't mean it hasn't rocked mine.
I do believe that it's very important to think about the blessings God has given me during a time of pain. So it's not that there isn't truth to the advice to "keep it all in perspective." But I don't think that coping with a difficult situation is that black and white either. After all, when something good happens to someone we don't tell them to take it easy since something even better could have happened to them.
It's a struggle I'm facing daily right now. There are some forms of heartache that most of us will never have to deal with. Does that mean we need to rationalize the pain we do experience?
I went to my first church voters' meeting in a couple years recently. I'd never meant to stop going (health issues interrupted the habit, then inertia took over) but I quickly was reminded of something I hadn't missed. As often happened before, several people spoke very sharply, to the point where a couple others had to speak up and remind everyone to hash through their disagreements in a spirit of good fellowship.
It's not just my current church where this happens. It's been like that in voters' meetings in every church I've ever attended, and many churches I hear about from other people. I've known people who've quit coming to meetings altogether just to get away from the acrimony.
This time, though, our pastor took on the issue in the next Sunday's sermon. He talked about how patient and polite most of us are while we're at work ("We have no other choice; it's part of the job"), yet feel free to vent our frustrations on our families -- and our church mates.
"We know it's safe," he noted. "We know they have to forgive us." We're more restrained out of fear of punishment at the office, he suggested, than we are out of respect and love for those who should be closest to us.
"How we treat our brothers and sisters in Christ while we are deliberating on a decision is just as important as any decision we will ever make as a congregation," the pastor said, adding that we should "never [care] more about the point that we're making than we do about God's people we are speaking to."
All very convicting. True, most people at church meetings are calm and polite; it's the ones who are most agitated who talk the most and raise the tension. Still, most of us indulge the impulse to snap at fellow believers (especially family members) in a way we never would at strangers or co-workers. And all of us should be take responsibility for promoting a culture of respect at church. If anyone there is not moved by a spirit of brotherhood, he at least shouldn't feel free to violate the spirit of civility.
Recently, Suzanne challenged me to be generous with my praise. Today, I was challenged on just exactly how I receive correction.
On Sunday, Joshua Harris preached a sermon on Proverbs 9 entitled, "Lady Wisdom's Food and Drink." The gist: We have an important choice to make between the wisdom and the folly in this world. How we react to correction exposes our character and shows us which path we are choosing. At Between Two Worlds, Tony Reinke summarizes the talk and Harris' spectrum of responses to correction:
The Wise: (1) Loves correction (2) Pursues correction
The Growing: (3) Appreciates correction (4) Begrudgingly accepts correction
The Simple: (5) Is open-minded to correction (6) Is indifferent towards correction
The Fool (7) Is annoyed by correction (8) Judges those who correct
The Scoffer: (9) Hates correction
Wow. That hits where it hurts. "Rebuke a wise man and he will love you. Instruct a wise man and he will be wiser still." Is that how I am? Do I love a rebuke? Do I grow "wiser still" from the correction of others?
Or do I dismiss correction? Do I judge the motives of those correcting me? Do I focus on their judgmental attitudes so that I can ignore the truth of their words? Do I delight in the 75 percent that is false in their statement so that I can forget about the 25 percent that is right on the money?
A couple of nuggets from Harris' sermon:
- "You see, as you go on in life and you're growing in wisdom in different ways, you shouldn't be thinking, 'Oh, this is wonderful, fewer and fewer people are bringing me correction, I must be getting more perfect.' See, that's the wrong thought. The right thought, the thought of a wise person, is to say, 'Fewer and fewer people are correcting me. I gotta work harder to find it.'"
- "If we wait for perfect people to show up to point out our errors and our flaws, we will die fools, because they are never going to show up."
- "The heart of a fool can always find an excuse for ignoring correction."
I especially need that last one. Because, yep, I can always find a good excuse: You've got some faults of your own that you need to work on. Hey, check out that log in your own eye, buddy. You never really liked me anyway. You're not restoring me gently enough for my taste. You shouldn't have used that word, or that look, or that sigh, or corrected me at any time it was not convenient for me.
So, how do I develop a more loving attitude toward correction? Harris points out that the answer is right smack there in the middle of Proverbs 9: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding."
Of course, not everyone who corrects me will be right. Not everyone will be doing it with the right motives. But, maybe, I need to worry less about that and worry more about fearing the Lord and loving correction. Looking for the truth in correction, rather than looking for an excuse to ignore it. Just where am I on that spectrum up above?
I did some cat-sitting last weekend for a family that lives a few blocks away.
I only know these folks because I pass their house on walks, and they have an outgoing 8-year-old daughter who's not shy about engaging passersby in conversation. When I ran into them last week, we got to talking and it turned out they could use some help with the cat while they were out of town.
Next thing I knew I had a job, a new feline friend, and a fair amount of cat hair on my jeans.
Why do I mention this? Because something that should be such an everyday kind of thing is, in my life, so rare. I don't talk to my neighbors much, even though I work at home and take walks a couple times a day: We smile and wave and exchange a few friendly words now and then, but normally I just keep on moving. I'm busybusybusy, and I don't have time to stop and engage with the people who live around me. If I did, I'd run the risk of getting caught up in a conversation that might last more than a few seconds. I've already got friends, and I prefer to pick 'em out on my own, not get tangled up with folks just because they happen to live in my neighborhood.
I'm afraid I'm pretty typical of people today. When I was a kid, neighbors socialized all the time -- partly because moms were at home and got to know each other, partly because life was just slower and people were friendlier. Now more and more people live in apartments, but even those with houses (like me) often have the apartment-dweller's mentality: Just keep to yourself and keep on moving.
My little adventure in kittysitting was a reminder that I need an attitude adjustment. Jesus said "Love your neighbor," and the wording's no accident. We're not just to seek out and love the people we'd like to associate with, but also to love the people we haven't sought out but who land in our lives anyway.
That may not mean I need to be best buddies with everyone around me, but I should at least slow down and open the door to relationships, not race by in hopes of minimizing my entanglements. Maybe I'll bless them in some way, small or large. For all I know, maybe they'll bless me.
One thing I do know: If I'm going to love my neighbors, the first step is to talk to them.
Last week, after reviewing some recent blood work, my doctor told me I need to take iron supplements. "You're not anemic, but you're low," he said. I was moderately relieved, because this pronouncement meant I no longer must attribute my feelings of sluggishness to dinners of Diet Pepsi and Twizzlers, or late-night sessions playing the game "Waterslide" on my iPhone. ("I'm low on iron! There's a medical reason for my lethargy! I can still eat corn syrup and synthetic chemicals and get only five hours of sleep per night! A pill will solve my problem!")
That said, I was a bit stunned to learn that I can't get my iron from a multivitamin. "That's not enough," my doctor said as he scribbled a prescription. After retrieving the bottle of red capsules from my pharmacy, I popped one into my mouth, and nearly choked. It literally tasted like a rusty nail.
While taking this morning's pill (simultaneously holding my breath and pledging to eat raw animal livers and scrap metal in the future), I was reminded of yesterday's Sunday school lesson. We studied Matthew 7, which begins, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged." It goes on to talk about removing a log from your own eye before going after the speck in your neighbor's. After reading the passage, our class began a lively discussion on biblical confrontation: when it's necessary, when it's not, how to do it well, and how to respond to it (also well).
It's obvious that confronting sin in ourselves and others is necessary, as are resulting confession and forgiveness. As Christians, we don't do this enough, and the Church has the wounds to prove it. But what about confronting someone not with blatant sin, but merely some possible points of improvement? Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." This refers not to spirit and character demolition, but refinement. Most of us know we have issues, so why do we fool ourselves into thinking we don't? Why not open ourselves up to honest assessment by others, and allow them to point out things that could move us one step closer to relational, emotional and spiritual maturity?
Do you monopolize conversations? Are you stand-offish? Passive-aggressive? Do more people know your medical or mental health history than is necessary? Do you wear skanky-low tops or a brown belt with black shoes? If so, let someone tell you. Ask someone to tell you.
In a spirit of disclosure, here are a few things I've been told recently:
"You occasionally give off an 'intimidating' vibe."
"I feel like you sometimes treat me condescendingly."
"I need you to 'sandwich' your constructive criticism."
"I know you didn't mean it, but it hurt me when..."
"Those boots make you too tall. Guys won't like that."
I have taken every one of these comments to heart, and have seen the wisdom contained within. And believe it or not, I'm still friends with each person who uttered them. Just as an iron deficiency robs me of physical energy, an "iron sharpening iron" deficiency robs me of spiritual energy. And maturity. And perhaps marriability, if we're being honest.
Do you have that nagging feeling that people should be telling you stuff, but aren't? Or worse, do you think you're all that when (trust me) everyone else thinks differently? This is a sure symptom of "iron" deficiency. So get real, and let people get in your business. Get your mentors and friends up in your grill, and start growing. Let's be a community of adults who mature instead of languishing in our lameness.
By the way, if you currently sport a mullet, wear movie-themed T-shirts (men) or Disney-themed T-shirts (women), start every sentence with "I," and/or are emotionally closer to your latest online match than you are to your best friend, you're messed up and need to start this process immediately. There -- I just started the ball rolling...
Last week the Episcopal Church USA accelerated its drive to embrace homosexuality (gay bishops, gay weddings, etc.). It's been coming for a while in this church body, which has had a very public controversy over the issue since they ordained openly gay bishop Eugene Robinson. And not surprisingly, the church has been losing members even more rapidly than the other old liberal "mainline" churches.
As U.S. News & World Report religion writer Dan Gilgoff notes, "the churches most open to homosexuality are shrinking fastest." Gilgoff quotes a defender of the Episcopal trend, one Mark Silk:
In a word, the Episcopalians are moving with all deliberate speed to fully normalize the status of gays and lesbians within their church. More conservative religious bodies will of course regard this as surrendering to the culture, but the truth is that all religious bodies must slow march to the beat of the culture if they expect to remain relevant to the lives of their members — that is, unless they want to relegate themselves to sectarian status. The Episcopalians are more willing to own up to this than most; indeed, they are doing so precisely by citing the changes in civil law respecting same-sex marriage.
What revealing comments. The church must "slow march to the beat of the culture" — and take its moral authority from "changes in civil law respecting same-sex marriage." Thanks for the candor, Mr. Silk. You've just adopted a position diametrically opposed to the proper role of the church — to stand for eternal truth against the world, and to stand strongest precisely when the world most loudly demands the truth be abandoned.
I can hardly think of a better illustration of what this conflict is really about: Not only sexuality, not only marriage — important as those issues are — but whether the church will be the church at all.
Every now and again someone lets us know how we've encouraged them, how something we've published is affecting their life. A few days ago we received this e-mail.
Hey there Boundless!
I sent an e-mail to Candice a few months ago about how I didn't have enough beauty and how marriage seemed impossible for me.
Well, I just have some interesting news to tell Boundless. It seems as though I have finally broken the barrier that drove men the other way. LOL Men have practically lined up, saying that they want to get to know me better. And all I did was to love Jesus with all my heart! Candice, did you pray for me? I didn't understand the Boundless articles at first on what it meant being beautiful inside as it seemed to be a big bunch of unfair facts but now it's becoming clear to me.
I got honest with myself a few months ago and I began to pray and ask for healing. During the process of a few months, the love and grace of Jesus has just given my heart a big makeover and I have changed a lot. I used to be bitter toward men and bitter toward myself and others but I've changed. People have noticed how different I act now and how generous I am to them.
Of course, nothing on the outside has changed except my expression (I hope), but I noticed there were men out there who were seriously considering me as marriage material.
I'm still in the process of losing weight but God has changed everything for the better. I hope God works in me and helps me even more than He has done before. Currently, I'm encouraging those around me and helping them build up their faith because I cannot thank God enough.
I just wanted to thank Boundless for helping me open my eyes to my own hurt and to help me deal with them. Thank you very very very very much!
God Bless Boundless boundlessly :)
How encouraging! I think this young woman may be talking about how the following articles have helped her, all written by Candice Watters:
This is our motivation, and our prayer: that the words we publish honor the Lord and encourage you. Letters like this one tell me that the Lord is answering our prayers.
This is not the place to discuss this family's lives or question their decisions. This is a place to offer up our written prayers to the Lord on their behalf.
* * *
Lord, please bring the Gosselins back together as a loving family. Please provoke family and friends to come close to them and encourage them as husband and wife to practice humility, tenderness and respect toward each other. Please comfort their children as they suffer through this painful season. And may Your name be honored through the difficult decisions both Jon and Kate make during the coming weeks and months. In the name of Jesus, amen.
We recently received this request from a Boundless reader:
I have been following Boundless for quite some time now and greatly appreciate the wisdom you all have shared with the rest of us!
I have finally decided to share something I have been troubled with for some time. When I was younger I kept to myself. I have always been more of an introvert and never had a large number of friends. Since I joined the military, I have drifted away from almost all of them. Now I find myself relatively alone and am not sure what to do. I can’t seem to make new friendships, as my schedule in the military is constantly changing and I frequently work nights and weekends.
I can’t regularly attend a church for the same reasons. While I still consider myself an introvert, I really want to be able to have a strong group of friends and be part of a church. I don’t have any kind of mentor either. I am very close with my family, but since I live across the country from them, there is only so much they can do.
And when it comes to trying to find a wife, it seems impossible. The only people I am around are my coworkers, but I haven’t been stationed with any other believers. I know the military is the right place for me to be. I don’t have any doubts this is where God wants me, but I am so isolated. The closest I get to church is by podcasting the Boundless show and several churches that post their sermons online.
I know this isn’t exactly a question, but it is something I need help with. I would greatly appreciate your prayers, and any advice.
I’ll address some general issues and then answer a few of the questions specific to the reader's military situation, but I think this is also a case of throwing this open to the Boundless readership for their … well, boundless advice.
First, I'm an introvert and, like you, I like to be by myself. I understand. It's not that I don't have friends or don't get along with people; I just tend to keep my own company. But I've learned over the years that you get out of a relationship what you put into it. If you’re going to have friends, you have to be a friend. Often it’s up to you to make the first move.
Ditto for finding a mate. Boundless if full of advice on the man's need to be the initiator. I know it's easier said than done, but learn to step out in faith. Sometimes it’s as simple as striking up a conversation. (Just beware of using pick-up lines, whether intentional or not.) Nothing forced or corny. And don't just talk about yourself.
As for your military situation, you are not specific as to which branch of the military you're in, where you're stationed, what rank you are, or what your MOS is. (That's military occupational specialty to the uninitiated.) That makes it hard to give specific advice.
I do know that it's sometimes hard for Christians in the military to find a good church. Every base usually has a minimum of one chaplain. Some have many. The potential problem is that some chaplains are not believers. I'm not talking about Jewish or Muslim chaplains, either. Even some ordained by Christian denominations—ordination by a recognized religious body is a prerequisite for all chaplains—do not believe or preach the simple Gospel. But he (or sometimes she) is the only choice you have. For example, the military considers a Mormon chaplain as fulfilling a Christian billet.
If you're Stateside and you can’t find a chaplain who preaches the Word, try to find a good church off base. Many are happy to provide rides to military people, so it’s just a matter of looking in the phone book and making a few calls. If you're overseas, that might be more problematic. But groups such as The Navigators and other Christian outreaches often have people posted near military bases. And even though it may be hard to attend Sunday services every week, a good church should have small groups or regular Bible studies that you can participate in. It's important to worship God, but it's also important to have fellowship with and learn from your fellow believers.
As for finding a wife, I'll say beware, especially if you're overseas. (This from a guy who met and married his wife in Switzerland.) In a lot of places women see an American serviceman as a ticket to "the land of the big PX" and a quick Green Card. No, not every foreign-born woman is like this, but a certain number are. You need to show an extra measure of discernment on top of what you normally would in meeting women here in the States.
Even if you find an American who interests you, you face some restrictions that the average Boundless reader doesn’t—namely, that commissioned officers and enlisted personnel are not allowed to fraternize. Sometimes when you’re out in town in civvies, you can’t tell.
(True story: A Marine gunnery sergeant stationed in Japan had been teaching himself Japanese in order to improve his chances with the local women. He saw a beautiful woman at a restaurant off base and started to chat her up in his best Japanese. She just gave him a small smile and let him go on and on, finally interrupting him with perfect, Southern-accented English that sounded straight out of Gone With the Wind: "I can't understand a word ya’ll are sayin'." Turns out she was Japanese-American born and raised in Atlanta and didn’t speak a word of Japanese. Moreover, she was a Navy lieutenant, a commissioned officer, and he was an noncommissioned officer, meaning even if they’d hit it off, the relationship would have violated the rules.)
You're right, too, that crazy schedules in the military throw up another obstacle that most civilians don't face. Again, you’ll have to make the effort. Things won't simply fall into your lap. God doesn't usually work that way. But it is easier to steer a moving car than one that’s sitting still, so start moving, pray, and trust God for His best.
If I may be so bold, I also suggest reading a book addressed to specifically to people like you. Beyond that, I’ll throw it open to the Boundless crowd and see what advice they offer.
I confessed a couple of weeks ago that I was growing anxious about having volunteered to be a crew leader with my church's Vacation Bible School.
As I wrote in my blog post on Day 1, things didn't go all that badly. I felt like I was connecting with my eight elementary-aged kids, and I was enjoying their friendship. Then Day 2 came along; you may have sensed a bit of weariness in the blog post I wrote that day.
Well, partly because my plate was full here at work, and partly because I lacked the creative energy to do much writing, blog updates for Days 3 and 4 and 5 were left unwritten.
Until now.
So, yes, I spent the mornings last week caring for eight kids, aged 6 to 11. Lots of personality, lots of energy. Consequently, lots of personal engagement and energy was required of me. Which left me drained. And kind of on edge, to be honest.
I'm reminded of Carolyn McCulley's article, "You Made Me Sin," in which she speaks of our hearts as a kind of sponge. Circumstances squeeze it, and out comes ... something:
[W]hen we get squeezed by the circumstances of life (an inevitability), we ooze the overflow of our hearts. We usually don't like what we see, so we blame the squeeze. We blame the circumstances. "I wouldn't have reacted that way if I hadn't been tired." Or, "I only said that because I was hot, thirsty, and uncomfortable." That's our default setting: blame the circumstances.
But Jesus tells us the overflow is what's already in our hearts. Being tired, hot, thirsty, or uncomfortable are only "revealers"; they aren't the reason we react in anger. We're angry because anger has taken root in our hearts.
And that's what I saw this past week. Doing motions for the same songs day after day squeezed the sponge of my heart. Having kids jump on me and hang from my neck, even after I'd asked them not to, squeezed the sponge of my heart. Seeing other volunteers who seemed bored or agitated to be there squeezed the sponge of my heart. Feeling like I didn't have enough time to distribute things to the kids or talk with them about anything meaningful squeezed the sponge of my heart.
And out came sin. I began watching the clock, eager for the morning to end, eager to get away from the noise. I found myself disengaging a bit from the kids who enjoyed strangling me. My hand motions were half-hearted; the ones that included sign language I began to disregard as uncreative and uninspiring, and maybe even a politically correct "statement" from the choreographer.
Yuck. Sin is ugly, hm?
Will I volunteer again next year? Right now I'm thinking no. I think my energies are best spent in a more academic, less relationally demanding way. Was I wrong to volunteer this year? No, I think it was the Lord's will that I serve my church and these kids in the way that I did. A lot of kids were truly blessed.
To be honest, I was blessed as well by VBS. That week gave me, and my friends, an opportunity to see the gunk that coats my heart. Maybe with their help I can scrape some of that off and instead saturate it with something more pure.
I've spent a second morning as "adult crew leader" over eight great kids so far this week. And, as I was yesterday afternoon, I'm tired. And my legs and arms are sore from lugging affectionate and rambunctious 9-year-olds from activity to activity and during singing. At times, one in each arm. Or one in one arm as another seemingly trying to collapse my windpipe and he dangled on my back.
I'm not complaining. I'm just saying.
I am concerned about something. I'm concerned that I may be acting more like Jack Black in "School of Rock" than the more disciplined teacher I prepared to become during grad school. Ah, well, the kids' playfulness with me, and their friendly respect toward me, tells me that I'm doing all right.
I close my eyes and see these kids' faces, their mannerisms, the way they speak, the way they interact with me. I look forward, sincerely, to tomorrow morning, when I don't have to close my eyes to enjoy them.
I'm tired.
I was up till past 1 a.m. last night, working on a freelance project, updating my iPod, listening to RED at high volumes, and reporting problems with our homepage to our IT department. Five hours of fitful sleep later, I awoke to get ready for VBS.
I arrived at the church and started getting myself familiarized with the schedule. The kids started arriving: Sarah, Ryan, Mike. I introduced myself and helped them make name tags. Thad came next, along with Andrew and Julia. The "student crew leader," Michael, showed up. Shy Ellie and her friend Abby were the last to arrive.
Over the course of a few hours this morning, we sang a number of songs (with motions, of course), had a Bible lesson (with costumed actors, of course), made crafts, had snacks, played some games, and wrapped up with a few more songs.
I think I'm connecting with my eight kids, aged 6 through 11. I thought so when I sat with Ellie during game time; she just wasn't feeling up to it, and that was fine. I thought so when I raced Mike to an event; I grabbed him a few feet from the finish line and twirled him behind me. I thought so when they watched me during singing, admiring my fumbling attempts at doing the motions.
But I knew it when Sarah and Ryan climbed on me during the last few songs, bringing me close to total exhaustion. During closing prayer, Ryan leaned over, smelled me, and said (a bit too loudly), "You smell like poopy." Sarah giggled in agreement.
Ah the joy of youthful fellowship.
I'm still feeling unqualified, acutely aware that this is outside my comfort zone. Part of me wants to skip VBS and all its relational demands tomorrow and just come to the office where I can stare at this computer monitor.
But the deeper part of me is looking forward to encouraging Ellie, joking with Thad, listening to Abby, affirming Mike, asking Julia what she likes doing, asking why Andrew is so excited about making waffles ... and letting Ryan and Sarah climb on me again.
OK, I'm going to come right out and say it: I'd love it if you would become our Facebook friend and if you'd follow us on Twitter.
First, it's a great way for us to get to know more about you. I enjoy reading your profile updates, seeing what you're interested in and what you're doing. That helps me when it comes to determining what our authors write about, and what we blog about.
Second, it's a great way for you to keep up with what Boundless is doing. We'll let you know when the latest articles or blogs have been published, we'll give you a heads-up on contests and give-aways, we'll ask you for your input on something we're working on.
Third, when you submit a friend request, you are showing us that you appreciate our ministry. That encourages us, and shows our bosses that Boundless is worth having around. Just saying.
So, here's my shameless appeal: Befriend us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. Maybe "share" Boundless with your friends by clicking on the "Share on Facebook" link below, or on one of the social network links on the bottom of each Boundless article.
Your one little click could lead to, in the words of Rick from Casablanca, the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Several years ago I discovered an uncomfortable pride within myself. This pride was associated with my church...my church. With its professional, yet casual, worship and relaxed, yet in-the-know of Greek and Hebrew, pastor, I felt my church reflected my great taste. With this discovery of pride came contemplation. I began to consider my generation's trend of choosing a church based on personal taste: The type of church I attend says something about me. If I go to a conservative church, I like structure and tradition. If I attend a charismatic church, I prefer experiential worship. If I attend a small church, I have a heart for being a part of something intimate with the promise of growth. But is choosing a church based on personal style and preference biblical? I'll admit it. My tendency is to look for a church that makes me feel good — a church that "fits me." It's the same way I choose other things in my life — my clothes, my apartment, my furniture. But should that be the way I choose my church?
I suppose the answer is yes and no. In "Designer Church," I consider how early Christians picked a church: geographic location. Let's face it; they didn't have much of a choice. However, these intimate yet diverse communities of Christians thrived based on a single commonality: shared faith in Jesus Christ. In addition, the early church promoted sound doctrine, prayed for persecuted Christians, grew as a result of evangelism, commissioned its members to go out and serve, utilized a variety of spiritual gifts and demonstrated submission to the Lordship of Jesus Christ. When I wrote this article, I realized I cared more about how my church reflected my personality than how it embodied those biblical principles. And I had a hunch why: All of the characteristics of the early church required commitment — living and breathing God's Word in community. It takes time to establish a solid prayer ministry or build relationships with missionaries. As part of a generation that often abandons something the moment it goes out of style or ceases to interest us, we face the temptation to leave a church simply because it doesn't perfectly reflect us.
At that moment I made a commitment not to switch from church to church based on personal taste but to invest, as the early Christians did, and watch how God would use that investment. After all, the church is His, not mine. And four years later, I have not been disappointed. I have watched fourth graders enter middle school and helped new leaders transition into their new roles. I've eaten dinner with families in my church, gotten to know college students and helped form a young adult Bible study. These opportunities would not have been possible had I chased after the next "big thing." Perhaps not coincidentally, I also met my boyfriend when he was hired for a children's ministry position at my church last summer. "Bloom where you're planted" may not be a biblical adage, but it is certainly appropriate when it comes to the church. When you bloom, church life becomes more than a passing fad.
I found this top ten list (and I love top ten lists) while reading Tim Challies' blog. It's about "types" of church people. You know, like the guy who is always referencing some John Piper podcast.
10 People a Pastor Should Fear
1. The guy who "subtly" reminds you how much he gives to the church.
2. The young guy who likes it when you rant against stuff or preach angry.
3. The guy or gals who doesn't like it when you rant against stuff or preach angry.
4. The lady with the unbelieving or spiritually unsophisticated husband who emails you a lot.
5. The person who finds you right after the message to point out something you got wrong, quibble over a minor point, or mention some other criticism.
See if you can guess which one of the above best describes me?
Go to The Gospel-Driven Church blog for the rest. And while you're there, check out his 10 Church People You Shouldn't Trust. See anybody you know?
When I worked on Capitol Hill, it took me 45 minutes to drive seven miles to my office in D.C. The stop-and-go commute (with a manual transmission no less) contributed to my nervous breakdown, literally. Thankfully, I recovered, and no longer get panic attacks when crossing bridges.
Traffic doesn't affect everyone like that. But it takes a toll to some degree, whether on your nerves or your time or your car insurance. That's why it's listed as a variable on all those best places to live surveys. Here's one with the top ten midsize cities:
The study compared the 124 midsize metros in 20 statistical categories, using the latest U.S. Census Bureau data. The highest scores went to well-rounded places with healthy economies, light traffic, moderate costs of living, impressive housing stocks and strong educational systems.
These are the top 10 midsize metros in terms of quality of life:
1. Provo, Utah
2. Boulder, Colo.
3. Madison, Wis.
4. Bridgeport-Stamford, Conn.
5. Ann Arbor, Mich.
6. Ogden, Utah
7. Fort Collins, Colo.
8. Boise, Idaho
9. Colorado Springs, Colo.
10. Des Moines, Iowa
What's missing from the list of "well-rounded" variables is churches. It's something we often overlook when deciding where to live. But it's at the top of Kevin DeYoung's list from his book "Just Do Something."
You also want to consider the churches available where you are taking a job. Sadly, this is a part of obeying the Scriptures that most Christians rarely consider. Before taking a new job, we look at salary, benefits, school districts, commuting time, and cultural amenities; but if everything else falls into place and there's no good church in the area, it's hard to imagine how God's revealed will — your sanctification — will be well-served.
One of the things we were most excited about when I was offered a job with Focus was joining a church we had attended many times while visiting my wife's family in the Springs. We can attest to the benefits of making it a consideration when deciding where to live. (The traffic's not too bad either.)
"How're ya doin'?"
"Just fine."
"Yeah? No, really, how are you doing?"
"Um."
So, are they a bit out of line for pressuring me for vulnerability, or am I a bit out of line for giving a culturally-expected response to what I interpreted as a simple way to make a connection, a simple way to affirm each other's existence?
Discuss.
Proverbs 12:18
There is one whose comments on blogs are like sword thrusts, but the comments of the wise brings healing.
Proverbs 14:7
Don't follow the Twitter feed of a fool, for there you do not meet words of knowledge.
Some wise words, with slight updates in italics, from the Book. Such is Joshua Harris's blog post today about what Scripture has to say about our many, rapidly evolving forms of communicating. He writes, "We've all sent an e-mail and forgotten to include the attachment we
promise. But have you ever sent the wrong e-mail to the wrong person?" I'm sure I've done that a time or two. But worse, I think, is writing something in the heat of the moment, only to regret it later. That's especially true when, after the passage of time and the gleaning of more detail, you realize you were missing some important facts. Just last week Steve was reminding me of the Stephen Covey principle about how humans are the only creatures with the ability to pause between a stimulus acted upon them, and their response to it. Then yesterday, I had the opportunity to do just that. Now that I've had time to cool down, stop crying, pray and think deeply about the troubling circumstance, I'm going to respond. I can assure you my response today will look markedly different from the blathering mess it would have been yesterday!
James 1:19
Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to read, slow to reply all, slow to click send.
Writing on the World magazine blog, Tony Woodlief makes an unconventional suggestion:
It’s a foolish idea, but I’m wondering if we can work up the courage to give recklessly this year. Wouldn’t it be something if our response to hard economic times was not to give less but to give more? What would the world think of us if all of us turned off the financial advice shows, imperiled ourselves just a little, and gave so much that every crook and lowlife and spendthrift in town darkened our churches’ doors?
Woodlief knows this idea seems foolish because of what our natural tendencies are when it comes to giving. He writes:
It’s frightening, even in good economic times, to give in the face of seemingly endless need. Many of us have been in a position to write a check or hand over a bundle of cash or food to someone who we have no confidence will be anything other than needy next week, too. And now that we’ve given to them, won’t they be more likely to come back for more? How much will they end up taking from us?
This is what I so often thought as I watched my dad try to minister to needy people. He got burned again and again trying to give people cash. He seemed to be a little more effective when he set up a food bank in our church and looked for ways to minister to underlying substance abuse problems where those played a role. But he still got burned--people still took advantage of our church. And his efforts turned our place of worship into something of an emergency room church compared to the country club church I grew up in. All those former addicts, ex-cons and people with missing teeth often made me uncomfortable, but I guess God isn't always interested in our comfort.
I hope God can stir a more reckless approach to giving in me.
We received some comments recently that pointed out that Christian ministry Vision Forum offers books by author G.A. Henty. The following paragraph appears on one of them, and speaks of Africans:
They are just like children.... They are always either laughing or quarreling. They are good natured and passionate, indolent, but will work hard for a time; clever up to a certain point, densely stupid beyond. The intelligence of an average negro is about equal to that of a European child of ten years old. A few, a very few, go beyond this, but these are exceptions, just as Shakespeare was an exception to the ordinary intellect of an Englishman. They are fluent talkers, but their ideas are borrowed. They are absolutely without originality, absolutely without inventive power. Living among white men, their imitative faculties enable them to attain a considerable amount of civilization. Left alone to their own devices they retrograde into a state little above their native savagery.
Terrible, right? Yes, but....
I did some research, and found that these words are from a work of fiction titled By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War. Amazon, Barnes & Noble and (gasp!) CBD also sell the book.
The words were said by a character named Mr. Goodenough (hence the ellipsis in the first line of the quote above), who is described earlier as a "traveler and naturalist." The occasion of Mr. Goodenough's insulting sentences is upon their arrival in Sierra Leone. It is clear throughout the novel that Mr. Goodenough thinks very poorly of those from Sierra Leone. I agree that this character's descriptions of those from this African country is inexcusably racist.
Did the author, G.A. Henty, share his character's racism? I don't know. Perhaps he was simply narrating what some in the 1800s thought. Or perhaps he was being ironic.
(I do find it interesting that Henty was a British journalist, serving as a war correspondent in, among many other places, the area in Africa where the Ashanti War was taking place. He probably knew men like Mr. Goodenough.)
And do the book distributors necessarily share this character's racism? Are they guilty of racism for having offered the book for sale? Are those associated with the bookstores also guilty of racism? If you are associated with a distributor of a book written by an author whose got a character who's said some racist things ... are you therefore suspect?
The book was published in 1884, less than a decade after Mark Twain published his book Tom Sawyer. You know where I'm going, don't you? One of the characters in Tom Sawyer said, "I never see a n----- that wouldn't lie." (Spelling out that fifth word, by the way, shocks our modern sensibilities; the thing is, you'll read it dozens and dozens and dozens of times in Huckleberry Finn and Pudd'nhead Wilson and other works by Twain.)
So, did the author, Samuel Clemens (AKA Mark Twain), share his character's racism? No, I think he was simply narrating what some in the 1800s thought. And he was being ironic.
I guess what I'm saying is that someone who suspects Twain of being a racist because one of his characters was a racist ... is just silly. And to conclude, without doing further research, that Henty was a racist because one of his characters was a racist ... is also just silly. To go further and say that the distributors of these books are therefore racist, and that people associated with these distributors are also therefore suspect ... is just beyond silly.
Any of the people or organizations mentioned above may be racist. I don't know. I do know that that conclusion can't be arrived at by cursorily looking at quotes from characters in works of fiction.
I'm pretty sure one of the ways God has chosen to refine me is to litter my life with tardy friends, roommates and most recently a tardy fiance. (That's right, it finally happened!) And I'm also fairly certain the most refining hour of my week is the Sunday morning worship hour.
Does anyone else hate being late to church? Does slipping into the pew during the third verse of the second song suck the joy right out of the sabbath for anyone else like it does for me? 'Cause let me tell you, if I'm late to church, I have to spend the rest of the service silently repenting of my sinful attitude.
I am rarely, if ever, late because I'm behind. It's them. They make me late. If it weren't for them making me late, I would be able to worship the Lord with gladness and enter His courts with praise. At least that's what I thought before I read this quote from Love and Respect:
First, you must get to the place where you can say, "My response to my spouse is my responsibility."In my own marriage, Sarah doesn't cause me to be the way I am; she reveals the way I am.
I'm not talking about marriage; I'm talking about getting to church on time, but I think the same way Eggerich's wife Sarah reveals the way he is, tardy loved ones reveal the way I am. So while I still deeply desire to assemble on time, I'm learning to use my attitude about being late as the litmus test for where my joy is really found, in the Lord or in my well-oiled routine. I hope it's the former.
HT: Molly Piper
I'm listening to Salvador's best album, "Que Tan Lejos Está el Cielo," resonating with songs "Alegría," "Con Poder," "La Palabra," "Estaré Con El" and even the traditional-sounding "Un Día a la Vez."
The salsa grooves drive me wild -- love the piano hooks, the alternately glistening and grinding B3, the choral breaks, the bumpy bass, the ripping brass, the plucky acoustic guitars, the syncopated percussion. Love it!
The thing is, I'm not just enjoying the music, but engaging with the lyrics as well, since I am fluent in Spanish. I studied the language in high school, practiced it some in Houston, was immersed in it during my nine-month stay in central Mexico, went on to earn an undergrad degree in Spanish, volunteered a couple of months in Colombia, and enjoyed friendships with Latinos during grad school.
I have great memories asking my employees in that Houston Burger King how to say the names of condiments in Spanish, being silly with Pablo in the little village outside Xicótepec de Juarez, talking about girls with Melqui in Bogotá, worshiping the Lord in a church in Mexico City (Centro de Fe, Alabanza y Esperanza) with a guy I met on a stroll, translating for a patient who only spoke Totonac (I was working with another translator who spoke both Spanish and Totonac), preaching to a gathered crowd in Papantla, dancing with gringo friends to mariachi accompaniment near the Zócalo, praying with Manuel in La Unión -- rich living made possible because I had learned a second language.
This morning during devotions, Tim asked Daniél if he would close us in prayer. In Spanish. A few of us in the room could pray along with Daniél, but most couldn't. I can't put my finger on it, but it seems that praying in a second language seems to cover ground that praying in English just can't.
If you speak another language, I'd love to hear how it's enriched your life. If you don't yet speak another language, please don't be discouraged. It may take a bit of work, but you can do it. And I'm confident it'll prove a blessing to you, as well as to that person whom you'll meet down the road who doesn't yet speak English.
I recently asked our pastor if he thinks it's ok to not sing certain songs during worship. He said that if you're not singing simply because you don't like the style, then you could be in sin. Because musical preferences shouldn't dictate your participation in corporate worship.
In other words, if it's not lyrically heretical, sing it. But what if it's lyrically individualistic? Like Tim Hughe's "Here I am to Worship"? You know the chorus:
Here I am to worship,
Here I am to bow down,
Here I am to say that You're my God
You're altogether lovely
Altogether worthy,
Altogether wonderful to me
And,
I'll never know how much it cost
To see my sin upon that cross
I'll never know how much it cost
To see my sin upon that cross
I'll never know how much it cost
To see my sin upon that cross
I'll never know how much it cost
Even with everyone in the church singing, it's still a bunch of "I's" singing it, not "we's." But though it's not my style, I belted it out, convicted by what my pastor said. (Besides, it is somewhat reformed theologically with that line "Opened my eyes, let me see." Which is redeeming.)
I wonder what Tony Woodlief of WorldMag.com does. He wrote an article last Friday with similar frustrations about bringing contemporary praise music into worship.
Recently I told my wife we ought to call a lot of them "me's," not "hymns." I suppose I'm getting more curmudgeonly, such that I cringe upon hearing a congregation warble what sounds dandy when crooned by an individual over the airwaves, but seems corny and too "me-and-Jesus" for corporate worship. My Savior does indeed love, and live, and He is always there for me, but now that I am here with all my brothers and sisters, couldn't we see our way clear to sing a song that has a little more reverence or community or [...] theology? Perhaps what I'm really seeking is less individuality in an American Church that has been overrun with it.
Me? Unless the music is doctrinally off, I'll continue to submit to our worship leaders and give deference to my brothers and sisters in Christ by seeking to cultivate a spirit that places community over my own preferences. Even if the songs have a ton more "I's" and "me's" than "we's."
I like the title of a new post by The Art of Manliness yesterday--"Every Man Needs a Mentor." The word "every" reminds me that having a mentor isn't just a nice bonus--it's essential. "There are some lessons and bits of wisdom that only a man can impart to another man," the post explains, "Men and women are different. We view and interact with the world differently. So it makes sense for men to seek out other men for guidance on how to navigate life."
Paul Stanley, co-author of the mentoring book Connecting talks about how misleading many self-improvement books can be. "These books often imply that if you follow their insights you can achieve the success they experienced," he said. "But those books often fail to mention that the essential element in their success was the mentoring relationships that brought those insights to life. Their advice without mentoring relationships is incomplete."
If the idea of mentoring is still new to you or you're still unsure how to get started, check out the interview Boundless did with Paul Stanley earlier.
Everyone experiences suffering. As I type this, individuals in Colorado Springs and Toronto and London and Makati and Auckland are hurting.
And folks throughout Australia -- with its bushfires and flooding -- are suffering in heartbreaking ways.
This morning I received the following e-mail from Cate:
Hi there,
My family (Mum, Dad, myself and my three little sisters) lived in the small town in Victoria. There were warnings that bushfires were 5 kilometres away and we were getting ready to evacuate. We had grabbed the family photos, important documents, blankets for the night in the evacution centre and some extra clothes but just as we were about to leave the fire came surging over the hill north of our property. We all scrambled for the car and sped off along the south road from our property. My two youngest sisters were crying and screaming about the pets my dad forced them to leave behind. Mum and I were trying to calm them down and praying God would spare our house. But just as we turned around the next corner we saw fire coming up on the south of our property. We were being closed in on both sides. We all began to panic but Dad said nothing and turned the car around and started heading towards the dam, there wasn't enough time to take any other route out.
We got to the dam, by this time we were coughing really badly and sky was black with smoke. Dad made us all get in the water, he grabbed the blankets and wet them and we all started to swim out to the raft ancored in the middle of the dam. We could see the fire coming and started to feel the heat. My parents and I dragged my sisters through the water because they were too distraught to swim properly. Finally we climbed on the raft, we lay there with the wet blankets on top of us. The plan was that when the fire came we would all slide off the raft into the water with the blankets over our heads and tread water until it passed around the dam. My dad kept looking out the side of blanket to see how close it was. He could see headlights in the distance through the smoke and realised that our neighbours were also driving to our dam.
He said he had to go and help despite our pleas. He said he'd be back in a few minutes and jumped off the raft swam to the edge and got into the truck and started out towards the lights. That is the last we ever saw of him. We don't know what happened ... we know they didn't make it. Him and our neighbouring family of 5 were caught in the fire 1/2 a km from the dam.
The fire came and we slid off the raft into the water, the smoke and heat were incredible and but the wet blankets were amazing in keeping the air breathable and the heat manageable. While we tread water we all cried, we all knew Dad hadn't made it, there was no way. In all honesty I didn't feel like treading water, this was a nightmare and I could have easily just let myself slip away. I know that sounds selfish because I was there with my mum and sisters but that's the way it was.
The fire passed. We survived and climbed back onto the raft, we didn't know what to do next we couldn't go back to shore because the ground was too hot. So we just sat in silence, holding each other. After a while my youngest sister started to ask questions 'Do you think the dog is alright? Do you think our house is ok?' all my mum said was 'Sweethearts, it is well with our souls and that's all that matters' I'm sure she was saying that to herself as much as she was saying it to us. We were rescued half an hour later by the Fire Service and taken to a shelter. That night at the shelter is a story in itself. The death toll stands at 181 and still climbing.
We are now staying at my Aunt's house 3 hours away. The amount of support is incredible but nothing replaces the horrific memories and my sisters have nightmares every night. We are left wondering what is next. What is the point of rebuilding if my Dad is gone and can't farm and support us? Where do we go? Most of our friends are dead, half our church is dead, what life do we have left? Do we sell? and if so will we make enough money to pay out our mortgage, who wants to buy black burnt piece of land?
Everyday is a battle to see God's faithfulness and righteousness above the loss we have experienced. I'm not quite there yet, I'm angry, confused and bitter. We all miss Dad, he was quiet but strong man who loved the Lord. He put his family first and lead us with incredible wisdom, he saved or lives that night and died trying to save more. There should be some comfort in that but I haven't found it yet, I wish he was selfish and had of just stayed with us. If he were here to lead us now things would feel that much more secure but he's not and I feel abandonned, everything secure and familiar is gone. I am immensely thankful for my family but even that feel different right now.
I am reminded of the Gaither song Because He Lives.
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives, all fear is gone;
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives
- Cate
Cate's father was a very brave man, a man who brought honor to Christ by sacrificially serving his family and giving his life in an effort to save others. I've never met Cate's father, but am provoked by the way he modeled a godly life, a life putting others' well-being over his own. I've never met Cate or her family, and yet I'm moved to tears by the agony they are experiencing right now.
I've prayed for Cate and her family, for their comfort, for their provision. Please consider doing the same.
* * *
We do lift up your concerns to the Lord in prayer. If there is anything we can do for you, please do not hesitate to contact us right now. When you complete the form on that page, the information you provide is hand-delivered to my co-workers and me. When we receive your prayer request, we push away from our computers, close our eyes from things that distract us, and we talk with the Lord about what is on your heart.
Please also feel free to e-mail us at editor@boundless.org or leave a comment below. It's our privilege to share your burdens.
Ted's nice little graphic for Thursday's article caught my eye. So I clicked on it even before I opened my inbox that morning. What I found was more than the daily Boundless article; I found a yellow light, if you will, on the way back to destruction.
As I read about Jen sending an email to her pastors and mentors bringing her struggle of unhealthy dieting into the light, I was reminded of my own journey with food and exercise.
Unlike Jen, my confession didn't take place on a computer monitor. I was sitting in the grass with ten other college students beside a trail head in Acadia National Park. Our small group leader asked us what parts of our lives we were keeping from God's healing (or something along those lines). I actually don't remember the question, but I knew my answer before the last words of the question had left her mouth.
I had been with this group everyday for four weeks. And in that short time, I had shared more of myself with them than I had anyone else. In the silence, as our leader waited for us to answer, I told the Lord that my distorted relationship with food and exercise was the one thing I would not share with them.
One by one, as my friends answered and as I remembered the acceptance I had experienced from them in the weeks before, I gained the courage to make my own confession. It was painful. (I'm cringing in my cubical just thinking about it.) But I know the confession and consequent exposure was what set me on a path to freedom. In seasons when I'm tempted to live in isolation rather than bringing my struggles into community, I remember how freedom began for me in that grassy circle.
I'm thankful for Jen's story; It's a gentle reminder that God's plan for healing is most often accomplished through His Body and propels me to bring all of me, even the broken parts, into community.
I just joined the Boundless team on Monday, so my cubical is still a little sparse. I haven't put up pictures of my roommates or my boyfriend and there are pitiful little books for someone who works at a Webzine on my shelves. It's safe to say that my cube looks unoccupied.
So, I didn't blame the custodial crew on Tuesday when they left me without a trash bag for my trash can or again on Wednesday when they took my trash can altogether. I did, however, tape a note to my trash can (that I recovered from another set of empty cubicles) saying my cube was, in fact, occupied.
I expected my little note would end the trash can dilemma, but what I did not expect was that the custodian would write me back. I found this note on my desk this morning:
Thank you,
It is a pleasure to serve you! God bless!
Your custodian
God did bless me by this anonymous employee who did their work "as unto the Lord." I was moved almost to tears. He or she reminded me, on a Friday when I'm thinking about weekend plans and trading in heels for sneakers, that I'm to commit every task and every hour of work to the glory of the Father.
May you wait tables, cash checks, install satellite dishes, write blogs, sweep floors, or whatever it is you do with a deep gratitude for the work God has given you.
Blessings to you this weekend!
A year ago I mentioned a group of top-notch Christian CCM artists who were collaborating on an album whose profits would be given to various ministries around the world. Their album (which shares the name of their ministry), Compassionart, has just been released. Musicians included Steven Curtis Chapman, Chris Tomlin, Matt Redman, Tim Hughes, Martin Smith, Stu Garrard, Michael W. Smith, Darlene Zschech, Paul Baloche, Israel Houghton, Graham Kendrick and Andy Park.
Tonight I'll be playing organ and synth at a free "Worship and Compassion Concert" led by the last guy in that list, Andy Park. If you live near Colorado Springs, please feel invited. And if you do show up, please introduce yourself to me. I'll be behind the two keyboards, trying to look like Mac Powell.
Information can be found on Andy's Web site, or my church's Web site.
Yesterday I wrote a silly little blog post in which I admitted that I found it disturbing that President Obama carries in his pocket a monkey god good luck charm. Though I knew about this story for months, I waited until yesterday to publish it so I could use the clever headline I came up with, "Good Luck, Mr. President." There were also legal reasons why I couldn't publish it while he was a presidential candidate.
The reaction to my frivolous blog post, frankly, stuns me. The following words were used to describe either my blog or myself:
ranting, lacking journalistic integrity, sophomoric, grumpy, immature, fear mongering, pointing the finger in judgment of Obama, petty, annoying, questioning Obama's faith, retarded, embarrassing, smacking of bitterness and anger and fear, bordering on gossip, exposé based on conjecture, trivial, ridiculous, get over yourself, big fuss, offensive, ridicule, disrespect, condescension, insolent child, hate-filled and exclusionary, divisive, sour grapes, lack of graciousness that is befitting Christians, poor witness, extreme judgment, condescending attitude, shortsighted, lacking in a true demonstration of Christ-like character, bash, silly, attack on the man, slanderous, unfair....
All because I was disturbed by this man's lucky charms. And apparently because I wasn't supposed to say anything that did not sufficiently laud President Obama on His Holy Day. (That last phrase, to be clear, is chiding those whose defensive adoration of our President is over-the-top; it's not a demeaning of the President himself.)
The Line really should not facilitate such uncivil, reactionary communication as we witnessed in the comment thread following yesterday's blog post.
I witnessed, to a lesser degree, some of this "assuming-the-worst" attitude in the comments following something I wrote on Monday. My wistful desire to be able to access my money to educate my kids was misinterpreted as a denunciation of government-funded school systems, or of grumbling about having to pay taxes, or even disrespect for teachers. Folks shouldn't assume that I have such a negative outlook. As someone who's earned a master's degree in Education, and whose sister has been a public school teacher for a couple of decades, I've come to have great respect for those in the teaching profession.
I'd like The Line to be a safe and enjoyable place for Christians and for those inquisitive about Christ to explore ideas, to talk about current events and ancient truths. I want it to be a place where we assume the best about people, where we're slow to form negative judgments about them. I don't want it to be a place for folks to express angry judgmentalism; such a tone is really out of place here.
Thanks for understanding!
I love it when I see God's kingdom in everyday things — like high school football games. My friend Becky posted this story on her blog. "I think Kris Hogan makes God smile," she wrote. I agree. Consider this story on ESPN: They played the oddest game in high school football history last month down in Grapevine, Texas. It was Grapevine Faith vs. Gainesville State School and everything about it was upside down. For instance, when Gainesville came out to take the field, the Faith fans made a 40-yard spirit line for them to run through. Did you hear that? The other team's fans? They even made a banner for players to crash through at the end. It said, "Go Tornadoes!" Which is also weird, because Faith is the Lions. It was rivers running uphill and cats petting dogs. More than 200 Faith fans sat on the Gainesville side and kept cheering the Gainesville players on—by name.
This unusual behavior took place at the request of Faith's head coach, Kris Hogan. You see, Gainesville is a maximum-security correctional facility and every game they play is on the road. Hogan wanted to do something kind for the team. So Hogan had this idea. What if half of our fans — for one night only — cheered for the other team? He sent out an email asking the Faithful to do just that. "Here's the message I want you to send:" Hogan wrote. "You are just as valuable as any other person on planet Earth."
The parents agreed. And though Faith beat Gainesville 33-14, the Gainesville players acted like they'd just won state, giving their coach a celebratory squirt-bottle shower. After the game, both teams gathered in the middle of the field to pray and that's when Isaiah [Gainesville's quarterback] surprised everybody by asking to lead. "We had no idea what the kid was going to say," remembers Coach Hogan. But Isaiah said this: "Lord, I don't know how this happened, so I don't know how to say thank You, but I never would've known there was so many people in the world that cared about us." And it was a good thing everybody's heads were bowed because they might've seen Hogan wiping away tears.
Well done good and faithful servant.
Lord,
I thank you for your calling Motte and his wife to go out of their comfort zone and adopt four children from Ethiopia. Thank you for the good counsel he's received, the donations he's received to cover most of the costs, favor from bureaucrats and legal people both internationally and within the United States.
But most of all, thank you for your promise to support those, like the Browns, to whom you've given a great calling.
Please give him and his wife a strong sense of your favor and presence as they make the very long flight from Colorado to Ethiopia. Please keep them both from illness, and invigorate them for the adventure ahead of them. And calm the questions and fears that might arise as the time approaches that they meet their children for the first time.
Also, please nudge people who hear their story to donate money to cover costs, which are currently at over $40,000.
I also pray for their six children -- that their two biological children would quickly adapt to having four new siblings, that their four adopted children would quickly adapt to a new culture, new foods, a new language, a new family, a new brother and sister.
And Lord, please touch my heart to live as lovingly and as sacrificially as the Browns.
Amen.
I appreciate Heather's bringing up the potential value of short-term mission trips. I say "potential," because, as she implied, sometimes they're more about the photos and the tans and the trinkets purchased than about serving those you're visiting.
I noticed that Heather values her second mission trip because of how it affected her, more than how she was able to affect those to whom she traveled to minister.
That's a common reality. And I think that's fine.
In my late teens, I went on a short-term mission project with my church to a small mountain village a couple of hours northeast of Mexico City. Our week was spent at a Christian ministry for indigenous Mexicans, building beds, working the soil, and doing other manual labor things.
I think we did some real and tangible ministry during that week in rural Mexico. It also changed me. So much so that I sent a letter to the director, volunteering to serve for up to a year, in whatever capacity he needed.
I ended up teaching a class in music, building furniture out of wood, picking coffee beans during harvest season, traveling to remote villages for baptisms, giving a message at the village church, translating for visiting evangelists, chaufering people to and from Mexico City, painting classrooms, and spending lots of time with the students.
Again, I think I was able to do tangible work for those I went to serve. And I was changed.
A couple of years later, I ended up leading a short-term project to Mexico City. Fifteen of us undergrad students drove 55 hours to get there, spend long hot days clearing out a site for a church and purchasing and laying brick for its walls. That really encouraged and motivated the local congregation to finish what we'd started. And it affected those who went. At least one of the students went on to do international ministry full-time as a result of that trip.
A few years after that, I found myself in Bogotá, Colombia, working for a couple of months with Operación Bendición Internacional. I helped them streamline their newspaper publication process, build a new radio studio, organize files, move from one location to another, minister at a community outreach, conduct interviews with local pastors, and so on.
During my time there, a group from Florida came down to "minister." My Colombian friends thought it was a flop: The leaders didn't speak Spanish, their skit was misunderstood by the glue-sniffing gamines who had come to each lunch ... they seemed more giddy about being in a foreign location than in humbly serving.
Yes, my week in Mexico during my teen years changed my life. My priorities and educational interests changed, for example: One of my undergrad degrees ended up being in Spanish, and one of my master's degrees ended up being in international communication, with ESL certification.
And that week in Mexico has changed more than just me. My friend Pablo in Mexico has benefited from my friendship; my friend Melqui in Bogotá has benefited from my friendship; my friend Pam in Michigan has benefited from my friendship. As well as numerous others whose names now escape me.
Yes, if you can go on a short-term mission project, I'd encourage you to go. In my opinion, the more foreign the destination, the better. The money you spend on it is minor in the big scheme of things; you'll spend more on a TV in a few years than you would on travel and expenses.
My strong counsel: Sacrifice and just do it. It'll be life-changing: for others and for you.
I just have to include some photos from the time I was in the little village in Mexico; click on an image to see it larger. You're free to ridicule my late-80s attire.
I've taken exactly two short-term mission trips in my life. Both were in high school. One was, shall we say, unfruitful. That is, I came back with a nice Florida sunburn but not much in the way of spiritual maturity. The second was life-impacting.
That trip was to the Appalachian Mountains (the exact state is foggy, but the "mountain" part sticks because of the hike to my "home base" camp every morning). I served, along with other members of my high school youth group, as counselors for a Christian day camp for disadvantaged children. By day, we would take the boys and girls for crafts, do devotions sitting on our rocks, cook "hobo lunches" over a fire and just love on them. By night, we would head to where our youth group was camping. We'd cook, play, remove any ticks and reflect a little about the difference between our lives and the kids.
I grew up some on that trip. I started learning that the Christian walk wasn't just about fun youth group outings and trying to stay on the right side of God's rules. It was about serving. To this day, I still remember those lessons and I still sing a silly song I learned on that trip ("The Peanut Butter Song") with my own kiddos and my preschool choir.
According to some recent research by the Barna Group, I'm not alone. The study found that of those Americans who have participated in a short-term mission trip, three-quarters of them report that the experience changed them in some way. The most common areas of personal growth included: becoming more aware of other people's struggles (25%), learning more about poverty, justice or the world (16%), increasing compassion (11%), deepening or enriching their faith (9%) and boosting financial generosity (5%).
However, according to Barna, only 9% of Americans have ever been on such a trip (23% of "Evangelicals" have). Barna Researcher David Kinnaman stated: "this research does not measure the benefit to the people being helped, since we only interviewed Americans for this project. But short-term missions clearly benefit the people providing the assistance. Many pastors, parents and teachers are searching for ways to transform hearts and minds. One promising way to go about changing people’s perspectives is to go on a service adventure together."
One clear trend in this study was the enthusiasm that "Mosaics" (18- to 25-year-olds) have for participating in short-term mission trips. David Kinnaman points out that Mosaics are typically globally aware, cause-oriented, more sensitive to issues related to justice and poverty and also relish diverse experiences.
"Their craving to take journeys of service could fuel a resurgence of global engagement," Kinnaman stated.
But, he warns, both church leaders and Mosaics need to be intentional about channeling that enthusiasm into trips that will challenge young adults to serve authentically and grow spiritually: "... [T]he danger would be if leaders and organizations waste the Mosaic generation’s readiness by simply allowing young adults to be mere ‘consumers of cause’ - selling them a t-shirt or a wristband, instead of challenging them to life-shaping service projects."
I think that's a good warning. I know from experience. From Florida, I got a t-shirt. From Appalachia, I got some wisdom from God.
And since I've been convicted lately to associate with people outside my own circle and give generously, maybe I need to be looking at taking a trip soon too.
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