Some say it is for worship--but I can worship with my family or a group of friends. My entire life is to be characterized by worship.
Some say it is for evangelism and missions. Jesus did come to "seek and to save that which was lost" after all. But, we have so many other organizations that are so much better at doing this than the church.
Some say it is for fellowship--but I have much deeper fellowship with my family and with my tight circle of friends than I do in the broader congregation. There is a much deeper level of accountability and prayer support there as well.
Some say it is for discipleship. I'm not persuaded this happens very much at all, much less at church.
Perhaps the question goes much deeper than relevance.
Showing posts with label Community. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Community. Show all posts
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
The Holy Club
"Church is a club."
I have heard that statement made numerous times and did not want to believe that it was true. The church often has a club mentality with dues, membership roster, roll call, taking of minutes, doing of "business," yet rarely a plenary session. The members are part of the club not for the benefit of the club itself but because of the vanity of its members. Being part of the club is something that looks good or makes the member of the club appealing because membership is based on what that club offers; this then becomes how the church also is evaluated.
The attitude of the Christians who are part of that church then becomes, "How do I make my church (club) appealing?" Hence, why many people will ride past eight to ten churches to get to the church that is "right" for them. I am not saying that it isn't right to find the church that fits. What I am saying is that this fosters an isolationist mentality that is neither healthy nor biblical.
Often clubs become an ideal place for bragging on one's accomplishments. Clubs can be mutual admiration societies, more concerned about how well one has done at a particular thing or preening over goals having been met. Rarely are struggles ever discussed because that would make one look ineffective or sub-standard--not worthy of the club. Struggles and pain are virtually non-existent in clubs, unless you're part of a club that celebrates failure.
I've never heard of one of those. Failure however is a very real part of life. I have failed on numerous occasions and I have also lived through making up for those failures. The fact is, the church isn't very welcoming to those who have failed. We need a Gospel that speaks to failure and a church willing to embrace people whose lives have been shattered by failure.
Lay down my life for someone else? Esteem someone better than me? Look out after another's interests rather than my own? Owe a debt of love to someone? Not in a club. The club is all about self-congratulation and self-aggrandizement. But the Christ that spent all calls us to spend all as well. That won't get us any accolades or pats on the back. Probably more suffering. Probably more heartache, and probably more tears.
Here is what is missing from churches: relationships. However, in our self-righteousness academies, we are too quick to point the fingers, assign blame, and start issuing the "bless his hearts" and allow the one who has failed to continue on in their failure--quite hypocritical. While we continue on, congratulating ourselves for how righteous we are and tickled that the "evil one has been purged from our midst."
One of the radical truths of the Gospel is that Christ is not so much a personal Savior, which we often emphasize (to the detriment of the Gospel itself), but a Savior of people. Individuals. With hopes, dreams, and failures. Placing the emphasis on Christ as a personal Savior leaves the potential believer with a sense of isolation--a sense of "what do I do next?" The marriage supper of the Lamb is not going to be a private affair.
But if we emphasize Christ as a Savior of people--real, live people, then the possibility of community exists--the possibility that someone will be with me in this. Someone who has failed cannot strike out on a new venture alone. They don't have the wherewithal. They need someone to commit to them in the same way Christ commits to them--sure, their eternity is secure, but what about the present? Not so much.
We all rejoice when the man who has failed miserably in life joins the church; when the mom who aborted her child makes a faith commitment to Christ; when the AIDS victim comes to the altar. Yet where are they in a few months? Christ is their portion, but no portion they have among the Body. The message that is often sent is one that Christ is your personal Savior and Christ can get dirty cleaning you up and fitting you for Body-life.
What then happens to that abandoned person when the time of testing and trial comes? Like the man who fell among thieves, he finds himself broken and bleeding hoping a Good Samaritan might come along.
My wife was in the hospital having had her third surgery in three months. Her back was sliced open, her kidney invaded, and an ultrasonic wand inserted to vibrate apart a stone the size of a quarter. But what a sad lesson we learned. Who from the church showed up to check on us? No one. Who followed up once we got home after two days of kidney spasms and muscle-relaxer induced stupor? Fixed a meal, offered to look after the kids? Not a soul.
We need each other. The Gospel is meant to be lived out in community. I want to conclude with this question: who out there is willing to walk with a heavily ladened, hurting person until healing comes in God's time? Who?
They will fall inevitably and we will lament, "Oh, what little faith so-and-so had!" "Oh, she must not have really been saved!" "How deceived the poor soul must have been!" "Bless her heart."
The question probably won't be, "Well, what did I do to keep this from happening?" That just demands too much.
I have heard that statement made numerous times and did not want to believe that it was true. The church often has a club mentality with dues, membership roster, roll call, taking of minutes, doing of "business," yet rarely a plenary session. The members are part of the club not for the benefit of the club itself but because of the vanity of its members. Being part of the club is something that looks good or makes the member of the club appealing because membership is based on what that club offers; this then becomes how the church also is evaluated.
The attitude of the Christians who are part of that church then becomes, "How do I make my church (club) appealing?" Hence, why many people will ride past eight to ten churches to get to the church that is "right" for them. I am not saying that it isn't right to find the church that fits. What I am saying is that this fosters an isolationist mentality that is neither healthy nor biblical.
Often clubs become an ideal place for bragging on one's accomplishments. Clubs can be mutual admiration societies, more concerned about how well one has done at a particular thing or preening over goals having been met. Rarely are struggles ever discussed because that would make one look ineffective or sub-standard--not worthy of the club. Struggles and pain are virtually non-existent in clubs, unless you're part of a club that celebrates failure.
I've never heard of one of those. Failure however is a very real part of life. I have failed on numerous occasions and I have also lived through making up for those failures. The fact is, the church isn't very welcoming to those who have failed. We need a Gospel that speaks to failure and a church willing to embrace people whose lives have been shattered by failure.
Lay down my life for someone else? Esteem someone better than me? Look out after another's interests rather than my own? Owe a debt of love to someone? Not in a club. The club is all about self-congratulation and self-aggrandizement. But the Christ that spent all calls us to spend all as well. That won't get us any accolades or pats on the back. Probably more suffering. Probably more heartache, and probably more tears.
Here is what is missing from churches: relationships. However, in our self-righteousness academies, we are too quick to point the fingers, assign blame, and start issuing the "bless his hearts" and allow the one who has failed to continue on in their failure--quite hypocritical. While we continue on, congratulating ourselves for how righteous we are and tickled that the "evil one has been purged from our midst."
One of the radical truths of the Gospel is that Christ is not so much a personal Savior, which we often emphasize (to the detriment of the Gospel itself), but a Savior of people. Individuals. With hopes, dreams, and failures. Placing the emphasis on Christ as a personal Savior leaves the potential believer with a sense of isolation--a sense of "what do I do next?" The marriage supper of the Lamb is not going to be a private affair.
But if we emphasize Christ as a Savior of people--real, live people, then the possibility of community exists--the possibility that someone will be with me in this. Someone who has failed cannot strike out on a new venture alone. They don't have the wherewithal. They need someone to commit to them in the same way Christ commits to them--sure, their eternity is secure, but what about the present? Not so much.
We all rejoice when the man who has failed miserably in life joins the church; when the mom who aborted her child makes a faith commitment to Christ; when the AIDS victim comes to the altar. Yet where are they in a few months? Christ is their portion, but no portion they have among the Body. The message that is often sent is one that Christ is your personal Savior and Christ can get dirty cleaning you up and fitting you for Body-life.
What then happens to that abandoned person when the time of testing and trial comes? Like the man who fell among thieves, he finds himself broken and bleeding hoping a Good Samaritan might come along.
My wife was in the hospital having had her third surgery in three months. Her back was sliced open, her kidney invaded, and an ultrasonic wand inserted to vibrate apart a stone the size of a quarter. But what a sad lesson we learned. Who from the church showed up to check on us? No one. Who followed up once we got home after two days of kidney spasms and muscle-relaxer induced stupor? Fixed a meal, offered to look after the kids? Not a soul.
We need each other. The Gospel is meant to be lived out in community. I want to conclude with this question: who out there is willing to walk with a heavily ladened, hurting person until healing comes in God's time? Who?
They will fall inevitably and we will lament, "Oh, what little faith so-and-so had!" "Oh, she must not have really been saved!" "How deceived the poor soul must have been!" "Bless her heart."
The question probably won't be, "Well, what did I do to keep this from happening?" That just demands too much.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Notes on Pastoral Authority
Having difficulty with an argumentative church member, I asked a couple of brother pastors' advice on the issue. From two different pastors, I received two different responses, polar opposites from one another. One pastor said simply tell him that you're the pastor and that's that. The second said I needed to lovingly admonish the brother and walk with him through this issue.
Pastoral authority is a difficult topic to discuss. How much authority should the pastor have, if any at all? If he does have authority then to whom does he answer? Likewise, who answers to him? How should he exercise that authority? Positions on authority are as many as there are pastors and there are several other factors that guide a pastor's understanding of his own authority.
Some pastors feel they don't need to know what is going on in the church; a hands-off approach. Some pastors micro-manage every minute detail of church life. The Scriptures give evidence of some semblance of authority when Peter urges the elders to whom he was writing. "Shepherd the flock of God which is among you, serving as overseers, not by compulsion but willingly, not for dishonest gain, but eagerly; nor as being lords over those entrusted to you but being examples to the flock" (1 Peter 5:2-3). It is apparent that in Peter's time there were pastors who saw their role in church life as "he who is to be obeyed." Perhaps this attitude did not play out in actual practice but quite certainly the tendency was there.
It was about fifteen minutes before I was to preach at a funeral with one of the predecessors of the church I serve. He is seventy years old. Spending twelve years at the church I now pastor, he asked, "How long have you been here now?"
"Almost six years, sir."
"Well, you've been here long enough to be called pastor now haven't you?"
This is one of the first principles of pastoral authority. Authority is earned. I believe a certain amount comes with the office, but not much. People are not by nature trusting people and when a man comes in from outside their congregation, there is a natural uphill climb to garner respect. Many pastors do not take advantage of this uphill climb to allow their muscles to be hardened by the difficult work of winning people's hearts.
A good friend of mine (and if you're reading, you know who you are) often says, "A man who leads and nobody follows is only taking a walk." Pastoral ministry is not some kind of divine follow-the-leader. It is an earned respect, an earned influence.
A second principle is just to simply love people. We emphasize the Great Commission as well we should, but often we have done it to the detriment of the Greatest Commandment. Loving people is hard and its much easier to tell people about Jesus than to love them to the point of acceptance.
Moreover, people are needy and demand care. One brother pastor jokingly said he had 85 children. Though I disagree with the spirit of that retort, there is a grain of truth in it. As children are needy so God's people are needy and need constant attention and provision.This does not mean God's people won't act unloving. The pastor then can take the lead in a delicate area of church life and show the congregation he serves how to love unloving people. Peter did say "be examples."
A third principle I guide my ministry by is trod where they have trod. Walk with the folks through their difficulties and burdens, rejoice in their rejoicings, weep when they weep. Sometimes pastoral ministry just needs to be a ministry of presence. For the pastor's watch to stop for just a few moments means the world to a lonely elderly person, a grieving widow, or a hurting divorcee.
A final principle is to always pray. I pray with the people God has given me to serve every opportunity I get. I never leave a congregant's home, bedside, or hospital room without praying. Whether the time is happy or sad, I always pray.
One final concern is when to exercise authority. The pastor only has as much authority as the congregation allows him to have. It can raise incrementally through a life of integrity, dealing well with mistakes, and living an authentic Christian life before them. A real pastor and not "super-Christian" fosters an environment of trust when times to exercise authority comes yet hypocrisy can do irreparable harm.
Pastoral authority has its limits and can be abused. The Bible does not even call for "servant-leaders," the vogue, falsely humble moniker for how pastors ought to be. Rather, Jesus just calls for servants.
Pastoral authority is a difficult topic to discuss. How much authority should the pastor have, if any at all? If he does have authority then to whom does he answer? Likewise, who answers to him? How should he exercise that authority? Positions on authority are as many as there are pastors and there are several other factors that guide a pastor's understanding of his own authority.
Some pastors feel they don't need to know what is going on in the church; a hands-off approach. Some pastors micro-manage every minute detail of church life. The Scriptures give evidence of some semblance of authority when Peter urges the elders to whom he was writing. "Shepherd the flock of God which is among you, serving as overseers, not by compulsion but willingly, not for dishonest gain, but eagerly; nor as being lords over those entrusted to you but being examples to the flock" (1 Peter 5:2-3). It is apparent that in Peter's time there were pastors who saw their role in church life as "he who is to be obeyed." Perhaps this attitude did not play out in actual practice but quite certainly the tendency was there.
It was about fifteen minutes before I was to preach at a funeral with one of the predecessors of the church I serve. He is seventy years old. Spending twelve years at the church I now pastor, he asked, "How long have you been here now?"
"Almost six years, sir."
"Well, you've been here long enough to be called pastor now haven't you?"
This is one of the first principles of pastoral authority. Authority is earned. I believe a certain amount comes with the office, but not much. People are not by nature trusting people and when a man comes in from outside their congregation, there is a natural uphill climb to garner respect. Many pastors do not take advantage of this uphill climb to allow their muscles to be hardened by the difficult work of winning people's hearts.
A good friend of mine (and if you're reading, you know who you are) often says, "A man who leads and nobody follows is only taking a walk." Pastoral ministry is not some kind of divine follow-the-leader. It is an earned respect, an earned influence.
A second principle is just to simply love people. We emphasize the Great Commission as well we should, but often we have done it to the detriment of the Greatest Commandment. Loving people is hard and its much easier to tell people about Jesus than to love them to the point of acceptance.
Moreover, people are needy and demand care. One brother pastor jokingly said he had 85 children. Though I disagree with the spirit of that retort, there is a grain of truth in it. As children are needy so God's people are needy and need constant attention and provision.This does not mean God's people won't act unloving. The pastor then can take the lead in a delicate area of church life and show the congregation he serves how to love unloving people. Peter did say "be examples."
A third principle I guide my ministry by is trod where they have trod. Walk with the folks through their difficulties and burdens, rejoice in their rejoicings, weep when they weep. Sometimes pastoral ministry just needs to be a ministry of presence. For the pastor's watch to stop for just a few moments means the world to a lonely elderly person, a grieving widow, or a hurting divorcee.
A final principle is to always pray. I pray with the people God has given me to serve every opportunity I get. I never leave a congregant's home, bedside, or hospital room without praying. Whether the time is happy or sad, I always pray.
One final concern is when to exercise authority. The pastor only has as much authority as the congregation allows him to have. It can raise incrementally through a life of integrity, dealing well with mistakes, and living an authentic Christian life before them. A real pastor and not "super-Christian" fosters an environment of trust when times to exercise authority comes yet hypocrisy can do irreparable harm.
Pastoral authority has its limits and can be abused. The Bible does not even call for "servant-leaders," the vogue, falsely humble moniker for how pastors ought to be. Rather, Jesus just calls for servants.
You know that those who are considered rulers over the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. Yet it shall not be so among you; but whoever desires to become great among you shall be your servant. And whoever of you desires to be first of all shall be slave of all. Mark 10:42-44
Friday, September 21, 2007
Friends or Friendly?
Being new in ministry, other pastors felt the need to give me advice and lots of it. Standing in the Danville Mall, my family had bumped into another pastor and his family. Talking shop, my brother pastor related the story of how a church member, who he claimed was a friend, "stabbed him in the back" (I'm not very fond of that phrase.)
He then offered this piece of advice: "You can be friendly; but don't be friends."
That piece of advice I have not followed. Yesterday, as I stood behind the pulpit preaching yet another funeral service, I understood how atrocious that piece of advice was.
Brother Billy and his family have grown very special to my family in our tenure at our church. They have nearly adopted us as part of their own family, something (unfortunately) unheard of in many churches. There seems to be a presupposed distance between church member and pastor, as well as his family. I understand this distance, but it just does not mesh with my personality and who I am in Christ. I am a very relational person, and I think that is vital for being a successful minister.
The distance breeds an artificiality that is simply impossible to overcome. How can you minister to a flock of God's people and not get close to them? Relationship implies nearness.
Billy's wife regularly kept nursery and my wife and I, as has been said of us, "are determined to keep the nursery full." Billy had progressed to the point where the pulmonary fibrosis he was diagnosed with several years ago needed constant care. Billy's wife had been unable to come to church since our new baby was born, so my baby boy and I made a trip over about six weeks ago. He was passed around like a sack of taters and Billy was thrilled to get to hold him for a short time. There is something about the "babyness" of a baby that just makes elderly people feel good.
About two weeks ago, I made another visit to see Billy, his situation having gotten worse. He felt like the end was near, but still seemed like he had not digressed; there was no noticeable difference in his health. However, this past Monday evening, Billy's son called and said that his daddy had gone on to be with the Lord. I quickly got dressed and spent the next four and a half hours with the family.
As Billy's wife and I stood at Billy's bedside, awaiting the funeral home to come pick up the body, I remembered a promise I had made. I had told Billy the last time I visited that I would bring my boy back over to visit. He was elated and said he couldn't wait to see the "little feller".
As I was preaching yesterday, I related the story to the assembled family and friends. I made a public apology to Billy and his family for failing to keep my promise, and then it happened. The tears began to flow. Perhaps it was because I had failed to keep that promise; perhaps it was because I had sinned, fallible as I am. However, I think I know why. Death is unexpected. We cannot predict it. And Billy's death also caught me off guard.
The shortest verse of the Bible has profound and deep meaning. Jesus wept. He was not afraid to show His emotion. He was not afraid to be transparent. He was not afraid to get close. At the grave of a close friend, Jesus' eyes dripped water, an indication of His humanness, His identification with frail humanity, His love for those to whom He was close. Why should the pastor be any different?
He then offered this piece of advice: "You can be friendly; but don't be friends."
That piece of advice I have not followed. Yesterday, as I stood behind the pulpit preaching yet another funeral service, I understood how atrocious that piece of advice was.
Brother Billy and his family have grown very special to my family in our tenure at our church. They have nearly adopted us as part of their own family, something (unfortunately) unheard of in many churches. There seems to be a presupposed distance between church member and pastor, as well as his family. I understand this distance, but it just does not mesh with my personality and who I am in Christ. I am a very relational person, and I think that is vital for being a successful minister.
The distance breeds an artificiality that is simply impossible to overcome. How can you minister to a flock of God's people and not get close to them? Relationship implies nearness.
Billy's wife regularly kept nursery and my wife and I, as has been said of us, "are determined to keep the nursery full." Billy had progressed to the point where the pulmonary fibrosis he was diagnosed with several years ago needed constant care. Billy's wife had been unable to come to church since our new baby was born, so my baby boy and I made a trip over about six weeks ago. He was passed around like a sack of taters and Billy was thrilled to get to hold him for a short time. There is something about the "babyness" of a baby that just makes elderly people feel good.
About two weeks ago, I made another visit to see Billy, his situation having gotten worse. He felt like the end was near, but still seemed like he had not digressed; there was no noticeable difference in his health. However, this past Monday evening, Billy's son called and said that his daddy had gone on to be with the Lord. I quickly got dressed and spent the next four and a half hours with the family.
As Billy's wife and I stood at Billy's bedside, awaiting the funeral home to come pick up the body, I remembered a promise I had made. I had told Billy the last time I visited that I would bring my boy back over to visit. He was elated and said he couldn't wait to see the "little feller".
As I was preaching yesterday, I related the story to the assembled family and friends. I made a public apology to Billy and his family for failing to keep my promise, and then it happened. The tears began to flow. Perhaps it was because I had failed to keep that promise; perhaps it was because I had sinned, fallible as I am. However, I think I know why. Death is unexpected. We cannot predict it. And Billy's death also caught me off guard.
The shortest verse of the Bible has profound and deep meaning. Jesus wept. He was not afraid to show His emotion. He was not afraid to be transparent. He was not afraid to get close. At the grave of a close friend, Jesus' eyes dripped water, an indication of His humanness, His identification with frail humanity, His love for those to whom He was close. Why should the pastor be any different?
Sunday, August 26, 2007
A Banner Report
It has been a booger of a week. Hospitals; surgeries; a stressful in-home visit; preparing three messages and a Bible study; homeschooling; plus spending the night in Richmond away from family (though I had my oldest daughter with me).
In the thread of my last post, a few readers requested that I share a bit about how my preaching engagement went at Banner Christian School. Everything went spectacular and I was immensely impressed with the school. Banner is an actual school, not one of those where they stick a DVD in and a proctor circulates the room. I had a great time meeting the kids, sharing with them, and preaching the Word. I was afraid that a group of 6th - 12th graders would be unruly and I would not be able to keep their attention but they were genuinely interested in what I had to say. Don't get me wrong, they were still a group of obnoxious teenagers!
The day was tailored to foster an environment of unity among the young people. A neighbor Christian school had closed their doors and Banner subsequently picked up about fifty new kids. Afraid an "us/them" mentality might develop among the student body, the faculty discussed and approved the idea of a field day centered around a common theme: unity.
The day began with praise and worship at 7:55 (yawn, I'm a preacher; everyone knows I don't get out of bed until 10:00). At 8:15 I shared a message from Ephesians 4:1-3 and my outline was clever: If you walk as Jesus walks, you will act as Jesus acts and you will love as Jesus loves. I could not believe it, but they listened better than my Sunday morning crowd!
After a brief time of prayer, the kids went outside and had a field day of sorts, all the games team games; no individual competitions: tug-of-war and the human knot were notable. After a packed lunch provided by our hostess (it was the first time I had eaten a fruit cup in years) we gathered back in the sanctuary for another time of Scripture and Bible study. I had been asked to share something about myself during the second study session, so I shared my testimony of how I came to Christ. At the conclusion, the kids applauded and several of the teenage boys in the back pew rolled their fists in the air, vintage Arsenio Hall, grunting "Oooh, oooh, oooh!"
I focused on John 13:34-35 during the Bible study and the radical new standard that Jesus placed on loving one another and how it applies even to teenagers. Afterwards, my daughter and I stayed around for skits the kids had prepared on 1 Corinthians 12. I left much more blessed than those kids. I saw the fresh look of God on their faces and it was a blessing to me to encourage them in their walks with the Lord.I begged them to walk humbly among one another and to look for opportunities to minister to one another. Stick up for one another; defend one another; don't allow the devil an inch in your walks with Christ nor with one another. Avoid cliques; and I assured them that, yes, kids your age can and indeed should minister.
It was exciting to me to be near a group of kids genuinely interested, hoping, and praying God will work through them. I also encouraged them to see the minister inside of them; that it is not a cheesy thing but something God honors. I prayed with them before I left asking that God's hand of blessing would be upon their school and each one of them.
So, like many of my visits with my congregants, I leave having intended to be a blessing but rather come away blessed. Odd, huh?
In the thread of my last post, a few readers requested that I share a bit about how my preaching engagement went at Banner Christian School. Everything went spectacular and I was immensely impressed with the school. Banner is an actual school, not one of those where they stick a DVD in and a proctor circulates the room. I had a great time meeting the kids, sharing with them, and preaching the Word. I was afraid that a group of 6th - 12th graders would be unruly and I would not be able to keep their attention but they were genuinely interested in what I had to say. Don't get me wrong, they were still a group of obnoxious teenagers!
The day was tailored to foster an environment of unity among the young people. A neighbor Christian school had closed their doors and Banner subsequently picked up about fifty new kids. Afraid an "us/them" mentality might develop among the student body, the faculty discussed and approved the idea of a field day centered around a common theme: unity.
The day began with praise and worship at 7:55 (yawn, I'm a preacher; everyone knows I don't get out of bed until 10:00). At 8:15 I shared a message from Ephesians 4:1-3 and my outline was clever: If you walk as Jesus walks, you will act as Jesus acts and you will love as Jesus loves. I could not believe it, but they listened better than my Sunday morning crowd!
After a brief time of prayer, the kids went outside and had a field day of sorts, all the games team games; no individual competitions: tug-of-war and the human knot were notable. After a packed lunch provided by our hostess (it was the first time I had eaten a fruit cup in years) we gathered back in the sanctuary for another time of Scripture and Bible study. I had been asked to share something about myself during the second study session, so I shared my testimony of how I came to Christ. At the conclusion, the kids applauded and several of the teenage boys in the back pew rolled their fists in the air, vintage Arsenio Hall, grunting "Oooh, oooh, oooh!"
I focused on John 13:34-35 during the Bible study and the radical new standard that Jesus placed on loving one another and how it applies even to teenagers. Afterwards, my daughter and I stayed around for skits the kids had prepared on 1 Corinthians 12. I left much more blessed than those kids. I saw the fresh look of God on their faces and it was a blessing to me to encourage them in their walks with the Lord.I begged them to walk humbly among one another and to look for opportunities to minister to one another. Stick up for one another; defend one another; don't allow the devil an inch in your walks with Christ nor with one another. Avoid cliques; and I assured them that, yes, kids your age can and indeed should minister.
It was exciting to me to be near a group of kids genuinely interested, hoping, and praying God will work through them. I also encouraged them to see the minister inside of them; that it is not a cheesy thing but something God honors. I prayed with them before I left asking that God's hand of blessing would be upon their school and each one of them.
So, like many of my visits with my congregants, I leave having intended to be a blessing but rather come away blessed. Odd, huh?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Prayer Request
I have been invited by Banner Christian Academy of Richmond, VA to come and preach at their inaugural chapel service this Friday. I actually have to speak twice in that day, two separate messages, one in the morning and one that afternoon, but to the same audience. The school has experienced some varied transition over the past year and the principal asked me to speak on a particular theme: unity.
The unity of God's people has always been near to my heart. I would appreciate your prayers as I prepare to address several hundred 6th - 12th graders and their faculty. If you have any suggestions, I would love to hear them. Thank you!
The unity of God's people has always been near to my heart. I would appreciate your prayers as I prepare to address several hundred 6th - 12th graders and their faculty. If you have any suggestions, I would love to hear them. Thank you!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Leah's Pony: A Word on Community
The ladies at our local library love to see us coming. The reason? We check out lots of books (typically about twenty at a time, not including momma and daddy). This last time we stopped in, my six-year old found a book with a horse on the cover; obviously that makes it worth checking out. The story contained within however, led me to tears for what the church is, and what it has become.
The book she found was Leah's Pony, by Elizabeth Friedrich. The story is set in the 1930's in the Great Plains. Leah has a pony given to her by her daddy. Proudly she rides it until the Great Depression sets in and ransacks the family finances. Add to that a drought as well as an infestation of locusts that finish off their meager corn crop and the family is broke. In order to save the family farm from foreclosure, several items necessary to their livelihood are to be auctioned off by the local bank.
Determined not to let that happen, Leah goes to the local mercantile and offers the owner the opportunity to buy her pony. He does and with the squalid amount she received, prepares her heart for what was to come next. Knowing the tractor was essential to the family's life, Leah bravely makes the first bid.
"One dollar," she said, timid as a mouse. The only one offended by the leanness of her bid was the auctioneer himself, as he scorns her bid, "That tractor is worth five hundred dollars!" However, what happened next is what caught me off guard, my heart genuinely unprepared for what was about to happen.
All eyes were immediately upon Leah as she clutched the ransom price for the family farm, having traded her pony for beans. No one bid against her. Reluctant and renitent, the auctioneer received one dollar for the tractor. As other items were auctioned off, neighbors bid on the family's things for nominal prices and after paying for them, turned them back over to the family.
This is a story of loving, caring community; a story of sacrifice; a story of placing others over oneself; a story of giving. A story of solidarity.
We seem horrified to break into the lives of others, into their pain, into their sorrows and griefs. We become so wrapped up in our own problems, however insignificant they may be, that they eclipse the needs of others; the forest for the trees. There seems to be a gap governed by politeness that keeps us from other people. You don't bother me with your problems and I won't bother you with mine.
And sometimes we rationalize and think to ourselves, "Well, I don't want to be a nuisance; they have enough problems as it is without adding mine." The fact is, the church has become abysmally deficient in developing genuine community among her people. Our cult of individuality and "do it self" mentality holds community at bay. We convulse at the notion that we cannot do it ourselves.
And sometimes, we just don't want to be saddled with someone else's troubles. So what do we do? Offer a half-hearted smile, breathe a good word about God, mouth support, and tuck tail and run. Let's face it: a supportive community is an intrusive community.
By intrusive, I don't mean that you are all up in everybody's business. Having the heart to look in on people that you know are in pain is what makes Christian ministry Christian. And then shouldering that burden, owning that pain with them, and letting them piggy-back on your faith is what fosters genuine community. The pain of life sometimes simply cannot be shouldered alone.
Leah's one small sacrifice led to many others also sacrificing. When the opportunity was there to take advantage and reap a benefit at someone else's expense, her sacrifice emboldened others to do the same. That is a genuine community, a community Christ honors.
The book she found was Leah's Pony, by Elizabeth Friedrich. The story is set in the 1930's in the Great Plains. Leah has a pony given to her by her daddy. Proudly she rides it until the Great Depression sets in and ransacks the family finances. Add to that a drought as well as an infestation of locusts that finish off their meager corn crop and the family is broke. In order to save the family farm from foreclosure, several items necessary to their livelihood are to be auctioned off by the local bank.Determined not to let that happen, Leah goes to the local mercantile and offers the owner the opportunity to buy her pony. He does and with the squalid amount she received, prepares her heart for what was to come next. Knowing the tractor was essential to the family's life, Leah bravely makes the first bid.
"One dollar," she said, timid as a mouse. The only one offended by the leanness of her bid was the auctioneer himself, as he scorns her bid, "That tractor is worth five hundred dollars!" However, what happened next is what caught me off guard, my heart genuinely unprepared for what was about to happen.
All eyes were immediately upon Leah as she clutched the ransom price for the family farm, having traded her pony for beans. No one bid against her. Reluctant and renitent, the auctioneer received one dollar for the tractor. As other items were auctioned off, neighbors bid on the family's things for nominal prices and after paying for them, turned them back over to the family.
This is a story of loving, caring community; a story of sacrifice; a story of placing others over oneself; a story of giving. A story of solidarity.
We seem horrified to break into the lives of others, into their pain, into their sorrows and griefs. We become so wrapped up in our own problems, however insignificant they may be, that they eclipse the needs of others; the forest for the trees. There seems to be a gap governed by politeness that keeps us from other people. You don't bother me with your problems and I won't bother you with mine.
And sometimes we rationalize and think to ourselves, "Well, I don't want to be a nuisance; they have enough problems as it is without adding mine." The fact is, the church has become abysmally deficient in developing genuine community among her people. Our cult of individuality and "do it self" mentality holds community at bay. We convulse at the notion that we cannot do it ourselves.
And sometimes, we just don't want to be saddled with someone else's troubles. So what do we do? Offer a half-hearted smile, breathe a good word about God, mouth support, and tuck tail and run. Let's face it: a supportive community is an intrusive community.
By intrusive, I don't mean that you are all up in everybody's business. Having the heart to look in on people that you know are in pain is what makes Christian ministry Christian. And then shouldering that burden, owning that pain with them, and letting them piggy-back on your faith is what fosters genuine community. The pain of life sometimes simply cannot be shouldered alone.
Leah's one small sacrifice led to many others also sacrificing. When the opportunity was there to take advantage and reap a benefit at someone else's expense, her sacrifice emboldened others to do the same. That is a genuine community, a community Christ honors.
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