Excerpts from a day at the beach:
I woke to a rooster crowing at 3:30am. I finally rolled off the church pews, and ate my breakfast. Bob did a devotion on communion and then we headed for the beach. Bob, Cheryl, Ernie, Elmer and I walked the short distance to the shore. This was no ordinary beach. It was a beach in El Salvador called El Playa de Cuco. I believe it means “crazy beach” — a good name to express the crazy time we had that day.
We had started our journey in Rhode Island USA and headed for Honduras to visit our missionary friends, the Marcys. They have lived and ministered in Guenope, Honduras for over 50 years. Bob, our leader, had planned to borrow “The Jesus Film” from a missions organization in Honduras so that we could show it in El Salvador. There had been much preparation to get to this moment. We were to show the Jesus film that night.
As we walked onto the beach, the sky was a little cloudy and the air warm and dense. The water of the Pacific Ocean was very salty. I thought of the Dead Sea for a moment and also Lot’s wife. As we walked up the beach we decided to set up the volleyball net and play volleyball with the kids and teens that lived on the beach.
The beach is filled with huts made of straw and wood. These huts line the beach and go five or six deep until they align with the road. Mothers were nursing their babies and cooking meals while the kids played. Some of the men were sitting around talking. We played volleyball for a while. I started getting tired and grumpy so I went to have a seat on one of the logs and wrote:
7/2/96
12 Noon
“We have been playing volleyball with the local teens on the beach! I now have 5 boys watching me write in my book. Make that 7. I have had a tough time with one of the team today! Lord Help me to keep a positive attitude. Boys on the beach: Jobane, Angel, Miguel, Jose Armondo, Jose Natale, Manuel Antonio, Manuel, Gabriel, Herbert, Jonel, Elisha.
I have been talking to the boys on the beach. They have been helping me learn Spanish. Mitita = little boy. They are only 3yrs-6yrs.
Lord, Thank you for a log for our stuff or it would have been taken out to sea! We have not taken showers since yesterday morning. No Power! No Water! We must smell ripe! Thank you for allowing me to be able to communicate with the Children, Lord. Thank you for life. I love the people they are so friendly. We are almost playing v-ball in the houses on the beach (water was coming close to us and the homes). I love you Father. Gracias.
1PM
WIPED OUT by a big wave! Gloria a Dios (Glory to God), no one was hurt. 3 kids went under the hut. All of us went flying. I tried to grab the bag and had a hold of it but the wave took the big log right with it. I was behind the log and it knocked me over. My legs are all cut up and bruised! Babies were everywhere. All are fine though. The locals helped us gather our things. A man named Pablo let us use his table and wash off in his water. Pablo gave Cheryl some blue ointment for the cuts on my legs. I told him that he was an angel sent from heaven. May he come to know you if he does not yet know you, you are most awesome Lord and worthy to be praised!
We thanked Pablo and gave him a Bible. We left the beach to gather our thoughts and clean our gear.
1:50PM
We are at Rogelio’s now for more soda! We are cleaning our gear. The cameras were soaked! The little carry pouches that we brought were filled with sand! I have no idea how the sand could get into a zipped pouch. My legs feel better. The blue ointment, which smelled like Ben Gay, helped the swelling! It has begun to rain. The waves are enormous. We are still on the patio at Rogelio’s. What a beautiful place!
That night we had soup for dinner. It consisted of fish, crabs, shrimp and veggies. They put the entire fish in the soup so I called it “Here’s lookin at you” soup! We showed the Jesus film outside to about 220 people. Right at the crucifixion scene the wind picked up, the rain poured down and everyone fled. We will show the film again the next night.
The next morning we went to see Pablo again!
7/3/96
10:20am
Visited Pablo. He loved the peanut butter. But, he really loved the Bible that we gave him yesterday. He stayed up all night reading it!
We found out later that Pablo came to church and accepted Christ. HALLELUJAH!
Wow! A day at the beach like no other. If it weren’t for the rogue wave, my injured legs and the intervention of our Lord, we would not have had the privilege of meeting Pablo.
I have to tell you that the scars on my legs lasted almost 10 years. Every time I looked at them I would smile and thank Jesus for the opportunity to serve Him! I would praise Him for the scars that he still bears for my sin!
So when a wave takes you out, remember Pablo and Romans 8:28-30!
Romans 8:28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. 29For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. 30And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.
Patience for his Perfect Work
By · CommentsAugust 12, 2010
The night my son was born was one of the greatest moments of my life. When he was put in my arms I could immediately sense that somehow this child was special. I know every parent thinks that, but there was just something about him. He was the first boy to be born in my family in 41 years; that boy, my brother, had died in 1965, so now there was only my 81 year old father and this new little life. My father had had strokes and couldn’t speak well, but there was no disguising how pleased he was. My son showed so much promise, especially in art, where he actually started out as a prodigy. I tried to give him extra exposure to art, and opportunities to explore music and sports as well. We saw a bright future ahead.
This morning one of the worst moments of my life took place as I watched my beloved 19 year old son plead nolo contendere to the felony of dealing marijuana. I listened as he addressed the judge clearly and politely; I listened as she explained the rights that were being taken away. It stung me as she told him that the most basic right of a citizen, the right to vote, would be refused him for five years.
He got the best sentence possible under the circumstances. He was being sent to drug rehab for six months to a year instead of being exposed to the harsh and dangerous environment in our state prison. It was the outcome we had all been praying for. But my son has already started detox and rehab two weeks ago. It’s been tough for him, and he has missed home terribly. He had hoped against hope that he would only be there for three months, at most six. When the sentencing finally came, he began to close up like a turtle resolutely drawing into his shell. My son wouldn’t talk to us and wouldn’t look at us. It brought my ex-husband to tears. I felt like crying, too, but I knew I had also won a years-long battle to get my boy the help he needed, painful though it was. My son was addicted to much more dangerous drugs than the marijuana. I had finally done the only thing I could do to get him help and hopefully make it end.
I finally had my cry at the end of the day while I thought of the beautiful baby I had 19 years ago and the young man who had to stand guilty before the court this morning. How it hurt to see him punished and to know he desperately needs the correction and discipline the rehab house will give him. I wondered if God “weeps”, or the spiritual equivalent, when we disobey and must receive harsh consequences. Do my actions hurt the heart of God the way my son’s actions hurt mine? It makes me think a lot differently about my own disobedience.
I was thinking tonight about a verse I must have learned decades ago because the way I recalled it was in the King James Version, which I haven’t used in a long time. This is the New King James Version of the verse:
My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. – James 1:2 -4
Patience has its perfect work to do. Patience (or perseverance in the NIV) was the quality I need to call upon in the months ahead. Even though my son doesn’t trust in Jesus, he is going to have to learn patience, too. He needs patience with the situation he’s in and the rehab where he must stay. He needs patience with himself to face the feelings that led him to use street drugs and prescription drugs to feel better. And many of us are hoping and praying that someday he will have patience because he recognizes that it is the Lord who is bringing healing to his life.
Tomorrow is a new day to pray for my son. Tomorrow is also a new day for me to count my trials “all joy” and be patient while God works patience in me.
Postscript: It is now the end of August and Jon is beginning to enjoy the feeling of being drug free. He is starting to gain perspective and it’s wonderful to see the “real” Jon unmasked by the drugs. It’s a real encouragement to see him start down the right road.
Anointing with the Oil of Joy
By · CommentsMy last blog was about my son Jon’s near death experience with heroin and other drugs. I’d been studying rejoicing, one of the fruits of the Spirit. Rejoice in all things, Paul said. Now that “all things” weren’t so hot, I challenged myself.
The first reason to rejoice: my son lived. He awoke at the hospital and was able to talk to us. Later, while he slept, I watched his breathing the way parents watch a newborn’s little breaths while he sleeps. It seemed no less a miracle to me now as it had then. Looking into his groggy blue eyes, I was so thankful I was even seeing them again.
I rejoiced in what Jon had to say when he awoke. I’m really sorry, he said. I know I need help. I want to get clean. I want to go to rehab. Of course his bravado returned in a couple of days, but in all these years of drug use he had never, ever acknowledged that he was at rock bottom and needed help. Unmasked in the seriousness of the situation, he admitted that he’d lost control of his drug use.
Another blessing in disguise: Jon had pneumonia and had to stay in the hospital for a few days. There he was able to see how many people cared about him as friends visited. He was not so alone in the world as he had imagined.
Something unusual happened when we found Jon in his bedroom at home. He had been saving a two-liter soda bottle filled with water. His friend, Jesse, had brought it over the last time he visited us and had forgotten it there. After Jesse died Jon kept the water bottle on the floor like a relic, and it was by his feet when we found him unconscious. I knew that was “holy water” as far as Jon was concerned, but one of his friends grabbed the bottle and threw the water on his face to try and revive him. When I told Jon what happened to the water, he said, “So he saved me. Jesse saved me.”
At the most I would entertain the idea that the hand of Jesus was guiding Jesse’s when he left that bottle there almost two years ago. But after that Jon didn’t ridicule God again. If I mentioned God, he never again told me that there was no God and my beliefs were on par with the Tooth Fairy. He saw in that forgotten water bottle a spiritual intervention to save his life, and he gave up his insistence that the world consisted only of what we can touch and see. It’s a start. I rejoice.
I wasn’t prepared to be tested and tempted to display my worst attitudes.
After nine hours of standing watch over my son, I left the hospital. Getting away will be a relief from the tension, right? Oh, no. The assault came immediately.
I sat down to eat at a restaurant with family members. All I wanted was a respite and a bowl of soup. They had an agenda. (Do not eat with people with agendas. It spoils the digestion.)
I tried three times to change the subject, but one family member was completely undeterred. She was going to ask every question about Jon’s situation then and there. She caught me when I was tired, scared, and hungry. It was not a good conversation.
As we left the restaurant, she berated me for not “making connections” and not “giving trust”. She said that as I’d called her early in the morning about Jon’s condition, she was entitled to details. I said nothing, but I left the parking lot furious. Couldn’t she see I’d had enough? Why didn’t she care about the condition I was in? What made her think I owed her anything? Couldn’t she let me eat in peace?
I knew I needed to forgive them, but the restless waves that often form our family relationships rose to a tsunami. This has really crossed the line, I fumed. There was no consideration for me. She didn’t want to know about Jon, she wanted information for her own gratification. They think if they’d been Jon’s mother they’d be doing a better job. They’d know the answers. They’d get him in rehab. They think I failed.
I was upset, too, that anger and unforgiveness were getting the better of me. I kept thinking of the lines of an old gospel song: “Joy, joy, joy/ Joy in the Holy Ghost/ Don’t let anybody rob your joy/ there’s joy in the Holy Ghost”. In the hospital I had tried so hard to rejoice in this disaster. Now this situation had robbed my precious joy and replaced it with a rock-hard heart, and I hadn’t stopped it. I’d even reveled in it. Weren’t their bad behaviors rooted in attitudes I had suspected all along? Didn’t they deserve my contempt?
My mind came back to Philippians 2:5 – 7:
Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
Did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
But made Himself nothing……
Equality with God is a big deal for Jesus to let slip from His grasp. It’s one of the many humbling things He did for us. I have what I think of as my own big deals. I mean, they’re big deals to me, but God’s not so impressed. What if that passage said:
Anne should not consider being respected as something to be grasped; or
Anne should not consider always being right as something to be grasped; or
Anne should not consider always having her way as something to be grasped.
I have a feeling there could be a hundred more of those uncomfortable little phrases informing me I have to let my grasp go.
In Psalm 45, the bridegroom is praised in this way:
You love righteousness and hate wickedness;
Therefore God, your God, has set you above your companions
By anointing you with the oil of joy.
Psalm 45:7
I pray that I would hate the wickedness that would have my heart,
And I would lift my hands to praise God,
And He would anoint them with the oil of joy
So my grasp would slip from the things that would rob me.
Joy in the Trial
By · CommentsOne thing I’m noticing about rejoicing: we are told to rejoice in the most unlikely circumstances. The apostle Paul is full of joy while he’s under house arrest, while out on the streets of Rome, mixed in with true evangelists, men with false motives are also preaching the gospel. The book of James launches right in: “Count it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds…” (James 1:2) As I’m looking at Paul’s example and James’ lesson, I just knew the moment was coming for me to test this out.
Boy, did it ever.
Last Tuesday morning at 3 a.m. I found myself in my son Jon’s room. Two of his friends and I had found him unconscious in a chair. The air was thick with pot. Jon was covered in vomit, ashen, and not breathing. Not breathing.
“Call 911,” I ordered one of his friends while I picked up Jon’s lolling head and supported his neck. I pulled him upright and found it caused him to gasp for air past the vomit in his airway. I kept doing it. “Keep breathing, Jon,” I told him, but he wasn’t breathing except for those gasps I forced his lungs to take. As I looked at my hand behind his neck I had a flashback to supporting his newborn head in the first moments I had ever held him. Nineteen years later, was I doing this for the last time?
Of course, we didn’t arrive at this wretched scene from out of the blue. At the beginning, Jon was a longed for and cherished baby, the first boy in 41 years on my side of the family. We loved and nurtured him intellectually, spiritually and physically. But even as a baby Jon was stubborn. Every limit had to be tested, every barrier needed a battering ram.
Around the seventh grade the first strands began to unravel. There were sliding grades, problems at school, and the beginnings of drug abuse. Yes, there were serious problems in our home, but Jon was going out and heaping problem upon problem. We tried to get him help, but Jon was like a tornado headed out on his own path, churning up more trouble than we could keep up with.
Where did we go wrong? Did we go wrong? We certainly got plenty of advice. Advice, however, is cheap. Solutions were nonexistent.
There had been two other episodes with drugs and two other polices visits to our home. Each time we hoped it would be the clarion call that would wake up Jon. Then, when he was 17, one of his closest friends died in an accident. Jon became fatalistic and started taking unreasonable risks. Worst of all, he refused to believe in God.
Where was the little boy who loved Bibleman and Captain Bible, who sat on my lap for hours while I read Little Pilgrim’s Progress and The Chronicles of Narnia? We were forced to watch Jon’s faith sink into fatalism just as we helplessly saw the drug abuser’s mindset overtake him.
Tonight was by far the worst. As we waited for the police to come, one of his friends, a Christian boy he’d known all his life, prayed over him frantically. Once the policeman was standing by me, I remember saying, “Thank God”. Isn’t that what we always think? That the police and rescue will come, and they will fix it?
The police found the needle, and the tracks on his arm, and another dose of heroin in his room. Later we would find out that on this night, he’d used a concoction of Xanax, pot, vodka, and three shots of heroin. When he got to the ambulance, his respiration rate was 6. People on their deathbeds have rates of 6.
No one was offering any assurances that they caught him in time. They put him in the ambulance; the doors swung shut. The ambulance didn’t leave for a while. Not good. I looked at those closed doors and wondered if I would ever see Jon again. Jon’s 16 year old sister and I stood on the lawn and bawled, not caring who in the neighborhood would hear us in the middle of the night.
Count it all joy. Somehow.
More to follow about Jon later this week.
The Mosque At Ground Zero: What Do You Think?
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On September 11, 2001, America was changed forever by the actions of radical Muslims, who flew our own planes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Should American Muslims pay for the actions of their radical brothers by being refused the right to build a mosque near the World Trade Center site?
In the news this week, President Obama is being castigated by many Americans for supporting the building of a mosque 600 feet from Ground Zero, the site of possibly the greatest tragedy to take place on American soil: the destruction of the World Trade Center by radical Muslims on September 11, 2001. Bent on taking as many American lives as possible, these horribly misled men hijacked our own passenger planes and crashed them into not only the World Trade Center, but the Pentagon. If not for the courageous actions of several passengers on United Airlines Flight 93, who risked — and lost — their lives in hopes of regaining control of the plane they were on, there’s no telling what other landmark the radicals would have delighted to destroy, and how many more lives would have been lost that day.
The media is having a field day with the story of the “Mosque at Ground Zero,” and naturally, American emotions are running deep.
A friend of mine posted this question on her Facebook today:
“This week Obama came out in support of the Muslim worship complex at Ground Zero. Do you agree with his decision?”
Here’s what I wrote on her wall, with a few minor changes:
Yes and no. Yes because I’m a Constitutionalist, and our President represents all Americans, not just non-Muslims. I thank God (really, I do every day!!) I live in a country where I can worship God freely, openly, and honestly, and I know I have to afford that same freedom to all.
When we were building our own church building last year, we had to jump through a lot of hoops to get permission to do so — and at every step, there was something new to do, another hurdle. Of course, God paved the way and everything went well. But let’s imagine that gay couples live in the neighborhood where our church is. At any point, someone might have fought the building of our church, stating that Christians hate homosexuals and are against them, are against their marrying, and that we shouldn’t be allowed to build in a neighborhood where gay couples live — and thus spread our message of hate.
We all know that there are many Christians who do hate homosexuals, or who spend a lot of time lobbying against gay marriage. We also know there are people who claim to be Christians while being really hateful to homosexuals “in the name of Christ.” The opposition would use the Bible to show that no matter what we say we believe about loving all people (including homosexuals), the very book we claim as our spiritual authority states differently. Many would also say that Christians want a Christian nation, and that our intent in everything we do is to eventually have a theocracy. Everything the opposition would use against us, they could also provide ample evidence for.
If we're being honest, do many harbor a not-so-secret wish for Muslims to leave America so we can finally have some peace about 9/11? And what does that say about us as Americans? as Christians?
Christians know, however, that we vary widely on the topic of homosexuality, gay marriage, and theocracies — not to mention an extensive list of other topics. Really, the one thing we all have in common is the essentials of our faith: what we believe about Jesus Christ. We believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, that He gave His own life to pay the penalty for our own sin, that He was resurrected to give us hope of the same, and that all who believe in Him will have eternal life with God. Just about everything else about Christianity will get you any number of responses, depending on who you ask.
My point is this: While our church is fighting the stigma of being a people who want to change America through legislation, or who are against gay people, we could easily have been branded by those who believe that all Christians believe the same things, and been kept from building our church.
I’m wondering if we would’ve buckled to be sensitive, and built elsewhere? I don’t know that we would have. I think we would’ve really fought to stay in our neighborhood and work to change people’s perceptions about Jesus and Christians.
So I have a different perspective here.
However, I wish the President had encouraged the builders of the mosque to be sensitive, much the way we encourage Christians down south not to fly the Confederate flag.
Just because we have a freedom doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be sensitive and compassionate towards those who have been hurt, and who are triggered by the symbols of that hurt. I would hope that Muslims everywhere would prevail upon their brothers in New York City to reconsider.
So, dear friends, what do you think? What response do you think Christians should have?
Looking for the Open Window
By · CommentsRecently a greeting card had me laughing in the middle of Wal-Mart. A man and his wife were in bed for the night when a bald old man with a long white beard and moustache came up to their bedroom window, smiling. The woman was shrieking in horror at the sight of the stalker? intruder? murderer?
The inside of the card declared, “When God closes a door, sometimes He opens a window.”
It's often said that when God closes a door, He opens a window.
For quite some time I’ve needed employment that would bring in the kind of income that would pay for my home and household expenses. I have a degree in music performance that was not going to help me now. In the business world of the 21st century, my skills as an office worker in the 1980’s were laughable. The jobs on line were all looking for my resume. What resume was that? I didn’t really have one. And I loathed and dreaded the prospect of returning to school. One run through the gauntlet of academia was enough, and then some, as far as I was concerned. So when I prayed, “Lord, you know I need a job,” it was not the same as when I was in my early twenties and needed work. I was praying for some specific conditions that would meet the needs and abilities I had now, which were very different.
This year I became distracted from my financial needs. My son has had a very difficult year so far and that took up my energy. When there was flooding in the spring, I was one of those with a lake in my basement, and many hours were devoted to repair before we could return home, and more repair afterwards. When there was finally a break in the action, I looked at my finances and realized the situation had become dire while my attention had been diverted. Now the prayers became really urgent and heartfelt. Something had to open up – now.
I want to tell you what happened before and after that prayer. God prepared me for that moment of prayer, and as I said above, it looks like the window is opening for me at last.
BEFORE:
Just a couple of weeks before the financial crisis, God brought me to a place where I could heal from the guilt of my divorce. I’ve written some things before about this wonderful moment when I finally realized that God was not punishing me. It came to a head because guilt was stopping me from believing God could have an answer for me, or blessings for me. Guilt gnawed at me when I knew that all I could do was go forward from here. Guilt even gnawed at me although I knew in Christ I was forgiven. Counselors would write evaluations of my son and mention that his troubles began when our marriage became difficult, and my heart would sink. Some circumstance would go wrong and I would think, maybe my plans fall through because of the divorce. The idea of a curse became a superstition with me.
God sent me back to the Bible to see that there was no verse that said for some sins God punishes continually even if I repent. Then I found a humorous coupon that author Steve Brown has on his website: A certificate entitling the bearer to three free sins. Laughing, I immediately knew what I wanted my first free sin to be. Then I began to see his point: because of the blood of Jesus, I don’t need a coupon to be free from the consequences of three sins. I have been freed from the consequences of all the sins I have been mourning.
“Then I acknowledged my sin to You and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord’ – and You forgave the guilt of my sin.” – Psalm 32:5
Moreover, I am not cursed, but blessed:
“Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord does not count against him and in whose spirit is no deceit.” – Psalm 32: 1 & 2
PRAYER:
When I prayed for the financial help I desperately needed, I called on God in the brokenness of my situation, not awash with the guilt of my past. I could not fix it. Only He could.
“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.” – Psalm 51:17
This was a huge difference in my attitude in prayer. Because of what had been lifted from me in “BEFORE”, now I believed God had forgiven me and He would be willing to bless me again. Sometimes I got anxious, sometimes I cried, but I kept turning to the hope that God would bring the answer.
“My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from Him.” – Psalm 62:5, KJV
AFTER:
My great friend Michelle called me seven days later. She had heard from an old friend she hadn’t seen in years. The woman wanted to know if she knew people who needed a job, who were worried that they would lose their home. She wanted to hire some people and give them professional training in her trade.
This certainly seemed to fit a lot of my prayer requests. I was someone who needed a job and whose house was on the line. The offer came through a friend rather than the route of a want ad or resume, where I couldn’t compete. The education was going to be one on one, where skills can be “caught” rather than taught. This was the way I learned music and is my favorite method of learning. I could work hours that accommodated my daughter’s transportation needs for school. As I became skilled, I could earn a substantial portion of my budget this way.
You might be expecting me to say that I then wrestled to determine the Lord’s will. And you might be surprised to learn that I can’t say I did. I have done that in years past. Instead, this is the attitude I took: I prayed, something that held answers to my particular requests appeared, I will thank God for it, and I am going through the open door to see what God does here.
Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” – Isaiah 30:21
Either 1) This is the way God has for me to ease the financial burden; or 2) I will see God teaching me something here, but in time leading me to something else.
Am I cut out for this new endeavor? We will have to wait and see!
My last two blog entries concerned Anne Rice’s decision to leave Christianity, which she’s now changed to leaving organized religion. After what must be thousands of articles written about how Christians can’t leave Christianity without leaving Jesus Christ Himself, it’s reassuring that Anne has seen what many of us had already concluded previously, perhaps after our own crises of faith – Christianity in its purest, sweetest form is not organized religion.
As a matter of fact, the very nature of Christianity is to simply be a follower of Christ. That’s all. Nothing more.
Organized religion is a whole different thing. It’s difficult — and misleading, really — to “organize” following Jesus, isn’t it? And religion is the thing most of us want nothing to do with. Religion smacks of rules, hierarchies, chains of command and authority, pressure, obligation, and guilt. The last thing we need is more religion. What we need is a vibrant, deep, loving relationship with our God, and love and religion don’t mix very well.
And that’s why Jesus came, isn’t it? To reveal God’s love for us, and to us.
If you read my blog post called “Do Christian HAVE To Go To Church?” you’ll see that I understand why people are leaving their churches and striking out on their own, but also why I think it’s important (and even necessary) to find a group of believers who are gathering together to “stimulate one another to love and good deeds,” and to “encourage one another” (Hebrews 10:23-25).
Jesus never asked us to be carbon copies of one another as we follow Him. That would make for a very sterile faith!
I’ve had a rich past with “going to church,” and it’s served me well as I’ve seen up close and personal what makes a church body healthy and vibrant, and what destroys. Gratefully, God led me to the local church I’ve chosen to be a part of, and has brought me back over and over again. There are reasons I love this particular church family, this family within the larger family of Christians all over the world. I want to share them with you, in hopes you’ll find a body of believers like I have. I assure you, they’re out there.
1) Being part of a healthy local church makes me part of a family who understands why I love Jesus so much, and who enjoy hearing about what God is doing in my life. I don’t have to worry that someone’s going to think I’m a weirdo, that they’ll be annoyed by my love for Jesus, or that they’ll think I believe in fairy tales and myths (as I once thought of Christians). No one will say, “I really don’t want to hear about this,” make derogatory comments about my faith, or make fun of me. They believe in Jesus and love Him, too, and have great reason to!
Are you an animal welfare proponent? Global warming believer? Scientist who believes there’s life out there in the universe, maybe even intelligent life? Then you’ll get what I’m saying. You, too, need to have people around you who “get it.”
People who mock what you’re passionate about are a drag. On the other hand, people who don’t believe as you do, but are open to reason and discussion, and who want to know why you believe as you do — they’re awesome!
It's vital to my faith to have a pastor who knows the word of God, but who's also open to listening to and discussing the studied opinions of those who may disagree with Him on one point or another.
2) I love hearing what the Holy Spirit has put on my pastor’s heart that week! I know my pastor loves God, he loves Jesus, and he lives out the gospel all week long. He’s not just a mouthpiece who collects a salary each week to put together a sermon. My pastor is loving, merciful, compassionate, kind, gentle, and patient. I know He loves the Bible, and believes it’s God’s Word, and that he can defend those beliefs with integrity. Because of his love for God, I know that when he studies and reads God’s Word, the Holy Spirit will lead him in a direction that will bless those God has put in his care.
I’m blessed to have a pastor who not only has the gift of preaching, but of teaching, so he makes it really interesting for everyone who’s there to listen. Our pastor preaches verse-by-verse through an entire book of the Bible, explaining the context historically, culturally, and spiritually, never proof-texting (taking scripture out of context to make a point), but always keeping everything in perspective. It’s never over my head, and it’s never too “lite” either. He doesn’t waver at all on what Scripture says, or twist it to fit a certain “slant.” He just teaches the word of God, verse by verse, with passion and love for God, His people, and His Word.
3) I get to see people I really care about, but don’t have time to talk to during the week. My church is filled with people who are interesting, unique, kind, intelligent, funny, and caring — the kinds of people I want to be friends with, people I want in my life, people I want in my corner when the chips are down. But who has time for over 100 friends? I don’t!
Face-to-face love and encouragement is one of the most important parts of Christian relationships.
Facebook is a huge help — we can keep an eye on each other’s lives when we have time to pop on. But that just keeps us abreast of each other’s lives. There’s nothing like seeing someone at church and giving them a hug, looking them in the eye and telling them you care. My local church is where I can see by someone’s demeanor how they’re really doing, and talk to them at length to encourage them, or offer a word of advice if needed. It’s the place where I can give a teen a hug, ask them how school’s going, and sincerely listen to them as they tell me the truth!
4) My local church is community-minded. We believe being a follower of Christ means loving our neighbor, no matter who they are or what they believe, or how they feel about us (Matthew 5:43-48). Jesus said that His disciples will be salt and light in this world (Matthew 5:13-16), and that if we love Him, the fruit of that love will be good fruit. Our local church is abundantly fruitful, and I love being a part of that!
Besides caring for one another’s needs, every year we have a Thanksgiving Basket Food Drive in our church, and a few days before Thanksgiving a bunch of us get together to fill boxes with Thanksgiving feasts and hand deliver them to people living in transitional housing in our town. There are members of our church who have ministered the love of Christ to young men at the Training School who wanted to attend a Bible study and be mentored. Every year, our church sponsors a 5K race in our town to raise money for the school department, even though many of us home school our kids or send them to private schools. Each summer, we pour a lot of energy and time into having a community outreach, with games and food for everyone who comes. Lately, we’ve been involved in a 12-church movement called “Love RI” to inspire Christians to reach out to their neighbors in love, to care for them, and to take the love of Christ into South Providence and elsewhere.
Besides the practical ways we love our neighbor, our church also supports missionaries in other countries, as well as right here in the US — Christians who are giving of their lives to care for the poor, for unwed mothers, and for the homeless.
5) My church isn’t filled with “yes men,” Christians who just go along with whatever the latest Christian group think is. Our church welcomes thinkers, Christians who don’t necessarily agree with the status quo, who don’t follow the pastor blindly, who study Scripture on their own, and who have varying political and social interests. We appreciate the differences between followers of Christ, and can have challenging, civil discourse over differing beliefs about what I call the “peripherals,” those things in Scripture that people disagree about (i.e., women in leadership, whether or not the sign gifts have ceased, etc.).
While every church has its blind followers who question nothing, who believe whatever the pastor believes, and who jump on every cultural Christian bandwagon while decrying those who disagree, our church is the kind of place where you can be different and still be loved and accepted.
How about you? Do you have a local church body you belong to? What do you love about it?
When He is Doing Something New
By · CommentsK-LOVE, the Christian rock radio station, sends me a Bible verse of the day. Last week many were about God doing new things. A couple of examples:
Tuesday was
“For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?” – Isaiah 43:19
And Thursday brought
“For I am doing something in your own day, something you wouldn’t believe even if someone told you about it.” – Habakkuk 1:5
I thought this was pretty interesting, because in my week every day brought new things. Really new.
"We pray, and we wait, for God to move. Then God acts all at once. The landscape, and the very earth beneath us, changes."
We pray, and we wait, for God to move. Then God acts all at once. The landscape, and the very earth beneath us, changes. Monday was one of the most difficult days I’ve had in a long time. God really did do something new at my house on Tuesday; before the sun was up, the feline population here had increased from two to eight. Everyone’s life changed dramatically, and not pleasantly, on Thursday. My head was much clearer Friday, but my clarity of thought gave me some jarring insights. One day was despair and the next brought relief. It was exhausting.
I tend to think that new is good. I suspect that’s a cultural attitude we hear all the time in advertising. You know, “new and improved.” Every day held something drastically new, but some of the “new” was bittersweet. Some of the “new” changed the whole playing field. I felt like one of the bad guys in Popeye, being swung over Popeye’s head and slamming onto the floor on either side. Was it good? Was it bad? It sure was happening fast. God was moving, and my kids and I (and a lot of cats) were along for the ride. And the ride’s not over yet.
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him…. Romans 8:28a
But sometimes as “the good” is being worked out, it doesn’t seem like it’s good.
When I looked at the passage above from Isaiah, God was promising obviously good things to Israel: water is coming to the desert and wasteland, times of refreshing. Conversely, the prophet Habakkuk is asking God for justice against wrongdoers, and the new thing God promises him is undoubtedly working for the good, but it’s terrifying: The Babylonians are coming to conquer as a judgment. “They fly like a vulture swooping to devour; they all come bent on violence,” God tells him in Habakkuk 1:9a.
All I knew was to hold on tight to God, to trust that He had everything well in hand and He would see us through. Things might not work out as I would like them to be, but God has a plan, and He would direct.
While I feel the discomfort of all the change, what stays steady is our God. Change startles and confuses us, but the Lord is not surprised. We often say, “He’s always there.” When you yourself are in the storm you can feel like asking where “there” is. David says,
If I go up to the heavens, You are there;
If I make my bed in the depths, You are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
If I settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there your hand will guide me,
Your right hand will hold me fast. – Psalm 139:8 – 10
“There” is right where you stand now.
“There” is above you and all about you, protecting you in the storm.
“There” is beside you, waiting for you to turn to Him and let Him take care of the changes that are so frightening.
We get surprised or ambushed. We tremble or weep at the things drastically changing around us. But Hebrews says
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. – Hebrews 13:8
Just as we need Him every day, He is present every day, the Rock that hides us in the storm, the Rock on which we stand when change comes.
Thinking About: Do Christians HAVE To “Go To Church”?
By · CommentsI’m still thinking about people like Anne Rice who say they’re leaving Christianity, but who state unequivocally that they love Jesus. They’re very disillusioned by organized religion, and I certainly understand that. I see a lot of people in the discussion, though, who are confusing Christianity with belonging to a denomination or a local church, and that’s not at all what Christianity is. Christianity is simply the name ascribed to those who believe in and follow Jesus (Acts 11:25-26).
And Jesus didn’t belong to a local church or a denomination. He was Jewish by birth, the Son of God, and He actually did a lot of rebuking of religious people who clung to traditions that missed the heart of God: Love. Mercy. Justice.
So it should follow that “Going to church” doesn’t make me a Christian, and being a Christian doesn’t require my “going to church” in order to obey God. Or does it?
Do I have to go to church if I'm a Christian?
Jesus gathered with His disciples often, to teach and encourage them. His disciples went on to do the same with other disciples, as Jesus commanded them to “go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:19-20)
The early Christians gathered together every single day in the temple courts (the Jewish temple), and broke bread (ate together) in one another’s homes (Acts 2:42-47).
The writer of Hebrews admonished Christians to not turn our backs on the importance of gathering together to “stimulate one another to love and good deeds,” and to “encourage one another” (Hebrews 10:23-25).
But here’s where many Christians get confused by tradition: we don’t have to gather together in big, fancy buildings on Sunday mornings. We can gather together over a shared meal, at the park, in our living rooms, serving alongside one another in ministry, or wherever else Christians come together, with the intent of encouraging one another in our faith, and inspiring one another to do good deeds in love.
I know that probably upsets some people, particularly those who make a living by serving on staff at churches, or who run the finances and pay the bills with their members’ weekly offerings, but it’s the truth. The first Christians didn’t build big fancy buildings that had to be financially supported. (Romans 16:5, 1 Corinthians 16:19, Colossians 4:15, Philemon 1:2)
Paul asked the individuals in the churches (local communities of believers) he’d planted to set aside an offering on the first day of each week, save it up, and wait for him to come. The offering would be delivered to the poor “saints” (Christians) in Jerusalem (Romans 15:25-26, 1 Corinthians 16:1-4). The model there is for Christians to think of their brothers and sisters outside their local communities of believers, and to care for one another wherever we are. That’s why we support missionaries. I’ve never believed that was a “read between the lines” command for Christians to gather together every Sunday in a special building to recite a liturgy, sing some songs, listen to a sermon, and take an offering.
But what I do know is that believers, whom Jesus called “the church” (Matthew 16:18), cared for one another. They were communities of believers within the larger communities they lived in. They shared everything, ate together, and ministered to one another (Acts 2:42-47). In our culture today, we follow that pattern by finding local groups of believers, usually (but not necessarily) in the form of a group who meet together in a church building built especially for the purpose of worshiping together regularly.
However, I know many Christians have been hurt and disillusioned by local churches who are led by false teachers (2 Peter 2:1-22, 1 Timothy 1:3-20), churches whose members have an “us against them” mentality that’s decidedly not Christ-like, and churches who spend exorbitant amounts of money on staff, programs, and buildings while the poor in their neighborhoods (and in their own churches!) suffer. I understand the disillusionment of many of my brothers and sisters. I do.
That’s why Jesus and Paul warned us that there would be false teachers and false converts, people who would do things in the name of Jesus, but about whom He would say, “‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!” (Matthew 7:15-23)
That’s also why I know I’m so thankful to have found a healthy local church in my own journey of faith.
In my next 5 posts, I’ll share 5 reasons I love my own local church. I think when you’re done reading the posts, you’ll agree that I’m blessed!
In the meantime, why do you love “going to church” — or not?
Thinking About: Leaving Christianity a la Anne Rice
By · CommentsThinking about:
While I completely understand why Anne Rice has “left Christianity” yet not Jesus — because I agree with her frustration and heartbreak — I think she’s set a precedent that she won’t be able to carry over into other areas of her life: that of quitting a family because of the actions of a few, or many, of its members.
I don’t have to agree (and I often don’t) with the way other Christians live out their faith in Christ in order for me to be a part of the same family. I’ve been adopted into that family by God Himself, given a new identity, and then sent out into the world as His child. I’m a part of the family of, well, of Christ. I’m a Christian because of what God has done. I can’t just up and leave the family because a lot of my brothers and sisters drive me crazy or embarrass me or just plain tick me off.
Just because my family is filled with people who are different from me doesn't mean I'm going to "quit" them -- they're my family!
To me, what Anne Rice has done is like saying I’m not a Quillin because I don’t like the way a lot of Quillins act, behave, or think. The local group of Quillins I’m related to are my family. I’m a member of them, and I love them, even when they say or do things that aren’t what I would say or do, even when they believe differently from me, even when we disagree and argue and get angry with one another.
And get this — even if my husband divorced me (basically kicking me out of the family), I could keep his name, become a famous writer, and make “Quillin” stand for all kinds of things he doesn’t stand for.
Do you think Scott or the rest of the Quillins would give up their name and publicly “leave” the family because I misrepresent the name Quillin to the world? Of course not! Knowing Scott, he’d counter back loudly, making sure everyone knew that I don’t represent HIM. Do you think Jesus ever thought about giving up His Name (”Christ”) because there are a bunch of us out here bearing His Name in a way that makes Him cringe?
This Motley Crew — I Love ‘Em
In the same way I took the Quillin name when Scott married me, we took Jesus’s Name upon ourselves when we said, “I’m a Christian” and were adopted into the family of God through Jesus. And boy, we’re a motley crew, aren’t we? Wandering around, speaking for Him (often putting words in His mouth that He never spoke), trying to represent Him to the world the way we think He wants to be represented, and just generally messing up left and right while doing our best to live up to the Name of Jesus. It’s a tall order, isn’t it? And let’s face it — we make a mess out of it a lot of the time, with our railing against this and that, our infighting about who to vote for, members of our family picketing funerals and killing abortion doctors, some of our cousins saying other cousins aren’t “real family” because they don’t speak in tongues or believe every word of the Bible is inspired by God, ancestors who burned people at the stake, family groups believing things about worship we don’t believe — and the list just goes on an on.
But isn’t that just like an extended family?
Here’s the thing that gets me about Anne Rice “quitting” her adopted family: as a married-in member of the Quillin family, I’m free to speak up when I believe a Quillin is acting in a way that is not in line with what we as a family stand for. Actually, I do that a lot. It drives them a little batty sometimes. But I want the Quillin name to mean something beautiful, to be associated with good things. I’d say we are known mostly for good things, for caring for people, for compassion, and for telling the truth even when it costs us. Some of the Quillins are known for their bawdy sense of humor, which some find good, while I find embarrassing. But we make a lot of mistakes, too, and we have a history that’s spotted with some pretty ugly things. I was quite a mess when I first came into this family, and if it weren’t for the love of the rest of the Quillins, who had the guts (and love for me) to speak up, I’d still be there. But making mistakes and having a messy history doesn’t cause any of us to give up the Quillin name and walk away from it — as if that would change anything. No, we grow, we change, we seek forgiveness, we reconcile with those we’ve hurt, we listen and try to understand. We aspire to greater things, like love.
Especially love.
I’m Just Gonna Keep Speaking Up
I’ll always speak up for those things in the Quillin family, and I want them to do the same with me. If I’m being a putz, being harsh, being a crazed perfectionist, being judgmental or self-righteous, I want someone to say to me, in love, “Hey, that’s not cool. That’s not what we’re about.”
In the same way, and first and foremost, I’m an ambassador for Jesus Christ, not just to my earthly family, not just to my spiritual family, but to the world. I have a ministry of reconciliation I’ve been called to, and so do you, if you are a part of the family of Christ. I’m going to speak up when I see my brothers and sisters acting or speaking in ways that don’t reflect what our family’s about — glorifying God by being Christ’s ambassadors, being salt and light in the world — and I want my brothers and sisters in Christ to do the same with me. Please.
If we are out of our mind, it is for the sake of God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you. For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.
So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. 2 Corinthians 5:13-21
