Those Tuesday afternoons

"Nothing is so simple that it's not also complex. What does this mean for ministry? There has always been a temptation to evade complexity in ministry by reducing it to formulas, programs, technologies, and quick fixes. Moses succumbed to it when, instead of carefully following God's directions, he struck the rock rather than speaking to it. He had struck a rock once before and water had poured forth, so he assumed it would work again (Numbers 20:2-12). Jesus resisted the temptation when Satan urged him to instantly prove he was the Son of God by jumping down from the pinnacle of the temple (Matthew 4:5-7)... "
          From Ministry in the Image of God: The Trinitarian Shape of Christian Service

And as we were discussing this in class, I began making my own applications. It's just like that ministry I've been uncomfortable with (let's call it ABC). ABC reduces complex ideas to formulas and tightens the Christian perspective to a narrow focus. You have to think their way or you are taking the "other side." And then it really struck me...This is so much more than just an organization. It's in every human heart. It's in me.

I'm a raking Christian. I want to make a difference. And I want to see that difference.  I can do about anything for as long as I'm seeing a difference. And I don't see any differences so often because I have my own system of what a "difference" looks like. A difference looks like something I can understand. But who am I to decide what a visible difference looks like when I serve the Invisible God? To quantify the unfathomable ways of God? What really makes a difference?

Loving God. Loving others. In that order.

In an odd way, Socrates(Plato) has helped me see that. In the Republic, the definition of justice was boiled down to what I learned in Montessori grade school: Be the best whatever you are. If you're a shoemaker, be the best shoemaker. If you're a soldier, be the best soldier. Whatever you are, be the best at it and you will be doing justice. And that definition is incomplete because it's not just about ourselves but how we relate to others, most importantly God. C.S. Lewis has valuable insight there in regards to us being a ship. But despite how incomplete and which paths it often leads people, there is such truth in that! It's Biblical! And it takes away the pride too. Don't you know that you are part of His Body! And if your gift is prophesying, use it in proportion to your faith. Be the BEST prophet. If your gift is serving, be the best servant! If it is teaching, be the BEST teacher. If it is encouraging, be the BEST encourager. If it is contributing to the needs of others, give GENEROUSLY. If it is leadership, govern diligently. If it is mercy, do it cheerfully. Don't just do what you're good at. Do it and do it the BEST! If you are a hand, be the best hand! If you are a foot, be the best foot. If you are a missionary, be the best missionary. If you are a janitor, be the BEST janitor. If you are a tentmaker, be the best tentmaker!  Because you are His, not your own. And He is the BEST God.

I'm sorry if this all sounds like a kid who just won a game of tug-a-war but this kinda competition isn't competition at all! And this just slapped me in the face. We can love God by "being the best you can be" through His power, not our own! Any glory being a missionary has is absolved because it doesn't go to you! It's about Him! How incredible.

I used to make twister dolls in the grocery store. I wanted to make a difference but felt trapped by myself. I couldn't break my shell (and still am pounding from the inside often). And I saw small kids nearly fainting from boredom as they trudged after their parents. So I made dolls, pouring all my creative energy and inability into them. Sometimes I was bold enough to give them to kids. Other times, I left them in the baby seat of carts, imagining it occupying the kid for hours and providing peace for the parent. And...idealistically, I thought it would show God's love to them. Okay so you and I know those dolls fell through the cracks of the cart, and while it may have been nice, it was just a little too weird to make a difference! I was recently embarrassed when my mom pulled one out of her drawer, "Oh look! You remember those?" How many other "ministries" have looked like this? Nice gestures, but worthless. No difference. 

This bombardment of classes made me think though. Maybe my twister dolls weren't such a waste after all. Not because they really blessed people as any ministry in the sense I imagined but because I did them to God. Maybe in some way, they count to Him. They made a difference.

Oh Lord, I commit my life to you (again). I acknowledge that I have no idea of what my heartfelt commitment will look like. No clue how to be "the best that I can be" without the One who created me. Let me come to know you. When I'm tempted to either think I made no difference or judge what a difference looks like, help me instead to look to You, to Your death and burial. To Your sufferings and scars and the upside down way we live through Your Death. Your idea of success defies mine. Making a difference sometimes looks nothing like raking. I desire to see You whether or not I can see what You are doing. I will love you. I will love others. Amen. Yours,

Abby

Souls, grey bags, and bodies

"Jesus is not just 'beaming up' our souls out of planet Earth in Star Trek fasion; rather, Jesus is bringing reconciliation to every last speck of the universe..." (When Helping Hurts)

"I came to think of the soul as something of a 'grey bag' which everyone had inside--it was invisible, vitally important, and a little bit ghostly, but it needed 'saving', and every effort should be co-ordinated to bring as many souls as possible into the kingdom. I wish I had known that the love of Christ demanded and enabled me to love the whole person, not just the soulish piece."
John X. Chrisman (otherwise known as Grandpa Fahs)

From one Beggar to Another

For every ministry with the homeless, there is bound to be that one guy who says "Amen" to your prayers extra loudly. If faith were degrees on a volume button, he'd be a football stadium. That one guy who beats all other spiritual giants. I met this guy, and his many faces, not too long ago at Feed the Hungry. Sometimes he bikes in, preaching about hell and occupying wall street. Other times, he pulls me aside and gives me pop quizzes on the books of the Bible. As it turns out, Ruth is the shortest book. Sometimes he's black, sometimes he's white. Sometimes he uses my Bible as justification for a handout--"the Bible says to give to the poor, amen?".  Whatever he looks like, it's usually extremely hard to start a conversation about God with him because as it turns out, he knows God better than you. He knows where he is going, is in the good Word every day amen, and always takes that extra bag of chips to share with poor homeless soul. He is on the right track so we have no need to evangelize him. Sometimes he'll join in and help us preach the ears off those other addicted bums. What are we supposed to do with these perfect homeless men?

One of these guys came to us around thanksgiving time. Of course, he was wondering if we were doing a thanksgiving meal at the college this year, as we had last, so he could help other homeless. After a brief conversation where he played pastor, he went back to talking about the thanksgiving meal last year. He was really touched by the fact that the meal was homecooked, that we set up hand-me-downs like a store rather than just in a heap, and most importantly, that we provided the transportation. "You just kept bringing buses. Then, some of the student's own aunts came in their own cars and picked us up to bring us to Bethel. Their own personal cars. I couldn't believe it! The students' own aunts! Nobody has ever done something like that for me before." I can't overstate how many other homeless friends he pulled aside and repeated this same story to. With each telling, the number of aunts and their own cars increased. These aunts and their cars ranked higher than all-you-can-eat food and doggybags. And that's saying something!

I still don't know how to break through to these homeless pastors. I don't have the discernment to know when to challenge my friend about his pop quizzes or how to deflect the conversation away from being "saved" or "not saved" and into the Person of Christ. How do we show these objects of our pity Christ's compassion? How do we break through to these people who seem so transparently lost in our eyes and yet so secure in their own?  Do we care for them in an inn with our own money, do our own aunts drive them in their own cars?

I'm sure it starts by showing ourselves as homeless as well. Our souls are all restless until they find their rest in Him, whether those restless souls are tossing in silk sheets or in an alley somewhere. And this isn't some successful strategy for evangelism. It's the truth and we can't minister our way around it. Our idols may not be hidden in a bottle concealed in a brown bag but just like my homeless friends, we are only fooling ourselves. Our attempts to clothe ourselves except by Jesus' blood are flimsy and transparent. 

I'm afraid that's the only step I've got so far! And I am still working on it. I'll leave you with this thought

"Evangelism is one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread."

                              C.S. Lewis or Temple

He makes me lie down in green pastures

I guess I've always known that a cow isn't into fast food (besides for the obvious reason, "Eat mor chikin"). And a sheep doesn't do take-out. They stay where they're at until the grass is thoroughly mowed. Like fingernails that have been trimmed way too low. And, as our chapel speaker today reminded me, I'm into spiritual fast food. I want to spend time in God's Word, I love the high that comes after discovering something new in the Bible. And yet sometimes I get discouraged when I don't get that in the 10, 20 minutes I've laid aside for God. Doesn't He get that?! I know He has my whole life but doesn't He know I'm glorifying Him through studying for that test or taking this class? Besides, I read a passage I memorized today so I already knew all about it.

I don't know how practical it is but, God, I have to stop fitting You in between the cracks in my day and start fitting everything else into my cracks between songs. So many of my classes this semester would be SO helpful for bringing You glory later but without this semester being wholly dedicated to You, they're worthless. So I ask for You to strengthen me, prepare me, motivate me. And above all, abide with me. Walk with me to my classes, bug me when I zone out, push and prod me when I squirm out of homework. Be with me. You are my Shepherd. Help me to see where You are and stay there in the stillness of my heart. You are God.

Abby