Some thinking

I've been inundated in the last few months with the concept of salvation - when it happens, how it happens, how we can tell if it has happened. Seems like everywhere I turn another source is showing me a different facet - something I hadn't thought about, a question I had never considered. These are things that I have always thought were black and white. I might have run from these discussions at an earlier time - fearful or insecure that someone might shake my resolve. But I've been finding that God has graciously given me a peace about approaching the discussions and even about the unresolved questions they bring up.

Perhaps you have heard about the New York Times Best Seller, Radical, by David Platt, pastor of a large church in Birmingham, Alabama. Last week our small group hit chapter seven where he suggests that there are a billion people who have never heard of the name of Jesus and these people are condemned to hell if we don't do obediently answer the call of the Great Commission. Platt suggests that many of us don't actively believe in universalism but we act like we do when we ignore that millions of people haven't heard the gospel.

Then I read something about this new book - not even released yet - by Rob Bell, pastor of a Michigan megachurch, called Love Wins. Early reviews of the book have brought a firestorm of criticism about his views on universalism. From the reviews, it appears he questions the consequences of a life lived in denial of Jesus Christ. That not as many are going to hell as we think.

As one of my earlier posts eluded to, I don't love having my long held beliefs shaken or even challenged. Seems the older I get, the more God places those situations in my path. Strangely, the Holy Spirit has been giving me a calm in inquiring, pondering and discovering. I've thought a lot about this over the last several months. I seem to have reached a point in reading about theologies where I don't need to agree with them to garner nuggets of usefulness for my spiritual journey.

Is it naive to feel that God is giving me a peace in NOT knowing the answer? Is it in humility that I am accepting these things or ignorance? I think this is a growing maturity - peace in fleshing out the details and feeling confident in the God I serve to allow those other perspectives in and in the end finding that I trust in Him enough to not know the answer.

One thing I know for certain, is that I don't want myself so wrapped up in holding on tightly to beliefs I've always known that I'm afraid for them to be tested. For years I lived there and I had a faith that I couldn't share as easily. God is bigger than that and He can handle the scrutiny. That is something I can't help but share.

KAIROS of Ohio

I was recently witness to something that has left me without adequate words to explain. But because of it's power and impact, I have to try. So here goes.

My dad began talking about prison ministry over a year ago when he signed up for participation in a correspondence bible study program. He didn't talk about it much - I had to ask him to tell me about it, which is weird. My dad is a talker and he likes to tell his daughters about things that are going on with him. Once I asked, he was more than happy to share. Then shortly before Christmas I heard a mention of him participating in something bigger - a different program. Not written - a visit to the prison. Once again, he didn't talk about it that much or make a big thing of it, which again is strange because we are a talking family. So in the beginning of February when I began hearing about the scope of this new endeavor, we all started to see the effect it was having on my dad. This was big. Bigger than he'd let on. He would be part of a team of men going into the prison from Thursday evening through Sunday night (staying at a nearby church at night) ministering to 30 some prisoners in a medium to high security facility. It would require 30 hours of training leading up to the weekend, serious prayer commitment, posters and placemats made, and 150 dozen cookies. KAIROS is known throughout the country for their cookies. Check it out online and you'll find references to KAIROS cookies. They take cookies into the facility and every resident and staff member gets at least 2 dozen homemade cookies from KAIROS with a hand delivered blessing from God.

Hearing about the cookies was the first inkling I had to the impact of this adventure. My dad and NOT my mom had not signed up for this. And I still wish I had been there to see when Dad first told her that this was a confirmed requirement. 150 dozen cookies. Seriously. I'm surprised she didn't kawhomp him with a frying pan - or a cookie sheet. My mom LOVES being inconvenienced for something my dad has planned..... ;) reunions, dinners, business trips.... yikes. She loves my dad but she doesn't hold back the fury. And I'll bet this was a doozey at first :) But strangely, by the time I talked to her, she had found some peace about it. My sisters and I prayed hard that week. Eventually we found that she wasn't mad - overwhelmed maybe - but totally acknowledging that God was in control of this and He was calling them to get involved with a church body. Still very hesitant to ask for help, though. By the following week she was determined and with some help from my sister, her family and a friend, and the strength of the Holy Spirit to keep them going, she was astounded that they had nearly enough baked already. They were both surprised that I had friends from church and bible studies that would be willing to commit to pray and bake cookies without even knowing my parents! Not out of obligation but willingness to serve God. God was speaking in every offered prayer and cookie.

When I headed up to Ohio to drop off the cookies at the end of February, I was listening and practicing our reflection song for the upcoming week's worship. The bridge says, "send us out to be, your hands and feet" over and over. And I got all teary, that more than anyone in our family, my father was obeying that call from God - sent out to be His hands and feet. And that lives would be changed that weekend for the glory of God. My dad was truly doing something radical that could result in the gospel going forth to all the world. Who sees that kind of change in their parents in their life? My parents gave us a tremendous hunger for the Word of God and were experiencing that unsettling feeling that God wasn't done. He wanted them to share from their overflow of blessing. How awesome that Kairos is the Greek word meaning a moment or undetermined period of time in which something special happens. It wasn't just the weekend that was turning out to be special. Something bigger was happening. To my dad and my mom and even to our whole family.

So it's finally Sunday afternoon and mom and I pull up to the entrance to Trumbull Correctional Institute at nearly the same time and drove into the parking lot. I had been looking forward to this time for nearly 6 weeks and it had finally arrived. I was not even a little apprehensive - was I just weird? Mom caught me up on dad's recent phone calls. Everything he had to say was positive. His host at TCI was talkative and receptive. It was strange deciding what to wear to avoid metal of any kind but I guess I did okay. No beeping as I passed through the metal detector. We waited with a bunch of folks to make the walk over to the gymnasium where the ceremony would take place.

So much about the ceremony was familiar. It was a gym, filled with 200-250 folding chairs, a podium, a microphone, a songbook of praise lyrics. It was so hard to remember that the men that sat in the rows just in front (previous graduates of KAIROS) were incarcerated for some serious things. It was far easier to remember that they were praising God with me as brothers in Christ.

My life has been so unreasonably blessed that so much of this took time to process. Every single solitary celebratable event in my life was met with smiles, love, food, and proud hugs from my father and mother and sisters and as much extended family as would fit in the house. Birthdays, graduations, new jobs, promotions, anniversaries. As these men walked in to all of us singing "When the Saints Come Marching In" maybe that was the most celebration that any of them had ever enjoyed in support of something they did. I recalled how shocking it was as a teacher in a school of at risk children to learn that so many of my students had parents who cared so little about how they were doing in school. Many of those kids could have grown up into these men. Never celebrated. Never encouraged. So it wasn't hard to smile at them. It wasn't hard to clap until your hands hurt. It was awfully hard not to hug them. These guys - no matter where this weekend landed them on the spectrum were moving toward receiving the gift of salvation. They were on their way. And some of them were now my brothers. I wanted to whoop like we were at a Steeler's game. But I didn't. :) I thought they might remove me.... :)

I have to tell you the truth. The thing that packed the biggest wallop was my dad. And that surprised me. Just to give you a background, my father has no tolerance for misbehavior. Little tolerance for arrogance and swagger. Frankly, sassing was one fast way to get him riled up when I was a kid - heck, it still works today. Disrespect from the grandkids even unsettles him. So this was a little weird - these guys had swagger to spare. I guess part of me held my breath a little. Residents were not to thank the volunteers. No performances. Keep it short. They had rules and they were just dying to break them. :) I kind of wondered what he thought when they danced across the line of the rules. I saw some inkling that he at least noticed. But as we talked later, over dinner, I would find out that he had none of the reactions I expected. His love for Jesus and these men had made all of that intolerance fly right out the window. More than anything, as I saw him talk about these men, I saw in my father gentleness, compassion, and tenderness. And while I never doubted the love of my dad once in life, I was floored by this. He had learned so much about what brought these men to this point and had come to grips with his own sinful nature to such a degree, that there was now no condemnation in him for them. I was truly seeing the reflection of my savior in my earthly dad. Praise God....

Ironically, peer pressure appeared to spur many of the men to get up and talk. A few whoops and hollers from their fellow residents and they would give. And while on the surface it looked, well - like peer pressure, I've laughed since then thinking - what the heck! When has peer pressure ever resulted in something so good in their lives?? Go, peer pressure!!!! They still had to get up there and say something..... And speak they did.

I cried a lot less than I expected. I guess a part of me expected heartfelt confessions and tearfully empassioned testimony. But in the hours since, I have thought a lot about what I heard and what I didn't hear that night. These men have spent lifetimes guarding their feelings and afraid of being vulnerable. And placing the words they shared in that context changes everything. "I have a lot to think about." "I've never felt more love than I did from these total strangers." "I need Jesus." "I don't want to forget how I feel." "I love these guys." That is powerful when you consider what their default behavior and feelings probably would be. And who they've had to be to survive - in life and in prison. Those words aren't just surprising - they're supernatural.

But surprisingly, this wasn't what broke my heart either. There is a video that plays in my head.

Part 1 - Levort Block was my dad's host for the weekend. I see my dad straining as Levort walks in. Dad's neck literally looks longer trying to find Levort. Daddy excitedly points him out to us - he has a ballcap on. Levort doesn't see him. Levort's not very tall and he wanders to a seat in the far back - nearly as far away from us as possible. And as everyone else settles and quiets, Levort calls out and waves to my dad. And my dad - the guy who never likes to do anything that might make him look like a rule breaker or embarrass himself- shoots his hand up and I'm pretty sure I'd swear yells something out...... what the heck... :)

Part 2 - Levort walks up to the mic during their open mic time and says some words. He's not to thank anyone. But at one point he stops looks at Daddy and thanks his sponsor and holds out his hand in dad's direction. I turn to Daddy and his hand is over his mouth and his reddened eyes are looking down. Having a hard time keeping it together. This man has touched the heart of my father.

Part 3 - The program is over and everyone visiting the prison is asked to leave. It's not a request. We have to go. So we stand up and move across the room. Daddy hesitates from his stormtrooper walk. He stands on his toes and strains his neck again to see if he can find Levort. My father simply cannot leave that room without saying goodbye to Levort. And despite knowing what he's done, my dad wants - no needs him to meet my mom and I. Daddy introduces us. We shake his hand with smiles and warmth and love - I restrain my desire to hug this man who has given my father such a gift. Daddy hugs him and we leave. My dad has been moved by the supernatural power of the Spirit.

And if all that isn't enough, Daddy has committed to attending the KAIROS night on Thursdays at the prison, over an hour away from home. At first he thought it just might be a couple of times but after this last Thursday, he knows that it is just as important as the time he spent with the residents over that weekend. My dad is mentoring and discipling. Somehow, as his daughter and a woman who proudly bears the seal of the Spirit in part due to the kind of father he is, I can think of no better way to honor Jesus Christ than for him to use his gift of leadership and love to mentor another child in our royal family.... My dad has love to spare and so does our Heavenly Father. To God be the Glory.

Radical

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aoicm4wnQ4c&feature=player_embedded

I just began reading this book by David Platt, and with only the first chapter under my belt, I have so much to consider. You want challenging?…this book is it. It is so challenging that one quote from the front of the book (where one generally finds rave reviews), Russell D. Moore warns that while some books are commended, saying ”you won’t want to put it down” the enemy is begging for us to put this book down. And you may feel compelled to listen. It’s hard and already uncomfortable but surprisingly resonates so true so in the pursuit of truth you read on. Apart from the power of Christ in me, this call is completely unreasonable. But it begs me to contemplate how simple it would be to be radical in the culture. The way we live is so much in opposition to so much of what Jesus called us to practice. And yet, my life is NOT radical right now and it makes me long for and pray for that change to His glory – not just in me but in all Christians.

The Small Stuff

Have you ever felt like you are having a terrible day when everything just refuses to go the way you planned? We all have those days when Murphy’s Law seems to trump everything.

My sister, Emily called me last week to chat and her first words were, “I’m having the worst day ever.” She was on her way home midday, driving a co-worker’s car so she could get an extra set of keys and then return to work to unlock her own vehicle, having spent 90 minutes in transit. Her day had already been a string of unfortunate mishaps and inconveniences when she quickly stopped in the restroom. All was going fine until she slung her purse over her shoulder and the keys sailed across the small space and plopped into the bowl……..of an already mid-flushing toilet. And all the keys, several metal keychains among them, disappeared into the great unknown…. REALLY – HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN! A visit to the janitor deepened her frustration as he tried to retrieve them with a magnetic snake apparatus all the while sharing his astonishment that she saw the keys and still flushed. She tried to make him understand it didn’t happen that way. But what was the use? The outcome was the same…..

So she called me to pass the time. I was glad. It gave me the chance to talk to her about the book she loaned me, Choosing to See by MaryBeth Chapman, wife of Steven Curtis Chapman and mother of Maria Sue, tragically lost in an accident in their driveway in May of 2008. I was surprised Emily had been able to get through the book as the mother of twin seven year olds. We talked about how real MaryBeth Chapman was and how frank she was about her struggles with things not going according to plan and her walk with God before and through the grief. And at one point my sister stopped. “God had me call you for just this. This truly is nothing like a bad day. He needed to remind me of that.”

Later she called me and laughed. She heard this song and it gave even further meaning to her day. God is so good to speak to us, through all the stuff. Even the little stuff.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqqdA8LHN7I

The Real Church

It seems that wherever I am, I keep hearing conversations, messages or dialogue that center around what the church was designed by God to be versus what it has been made into by man. Last week I listened to some teaching that the Greek word for church used in the New Testament was the word EKKLESIA – translated church, but more accurately translated congregation.

And there you have it. Somewhere along the way, we humans made church into a building or a series of rituals or any number of other things. But it appears that all along the church was supposed to be a who rather than a what.

That has been a progression for me as an individual, which is likely why it strikes such a chord. As a young Christian, it was much easier to put the “what” of church in a box. It could be put away Sunday afternoon and pulled out of its box on various weekdays to take part in my life as I desired. Something I did because I knew I should because it made my life better and something I could check off on a list.

But who changes everything. Congregations are people. And being part of a living, breathing organism must change who I am. It makes me accountable. It motivates me to grow and share and build. Memorial Park Church is that kind of church - people who make up the family of God with a common love for Jesus. Not a building or a place or even limited to people you see on Sunday morning but a living, changing, growing group of people bound by love and sharing it with everyone possible . I know it’s been said before but changes like this seem big and exciting and remind me that when our God moves in ways this big, grab hold of something because it’s going to be a wild ride. I simply cannot wait to see what is next for His People – His Church…….

Farewell, Gibson

Saturday we did the hardest thing we've ever had to do in our lives. We took Gibson in to the vet and didn't bring him home. I can't really write more of it yet but it was the right thing and the worst thing and both Bob and I hurt so much it feels like it won't ever heal. I keep praying that God takes away that image of her carrying away that lifeless body when moments before I was hugging that soft, snuggly, quivering creature who was counting on me to take care of him......

I know my God

God has been with us and answered my prayers over the last few days. Gibson is responding to the medication and we have enjoyed the last few days with him and hope to have some more to come. I don't know how many we'll get but God has answered that prayer too - I'm just taking things a day at a time. Enjoying hearing him continue to try and bark, relishing as he fusses over his guests, eats like a king, and taking in every snuggle.

At one point I was pretty devastated because even in my dog loving family, we believed God's silence on what happened to our pets meant that once they were gone, they were gone. That's no consolation to a childless couple whose only babies are their dependent pets. I was talking to my sister - the one I call when I need the truth delivered. Everyone must have an Emily - someone who gives it to you straight with no sugar. And I received a different message than I expected. And although I'm taking liberties, this is what she said:

"So you don't have any verses that are easy to cling to. There are a lot of specific things that the Bible is silent about. What you do now is look at the character of the God you know. That should be enough. He redeems His creation to Himself. And in fact and in practice, your dog is His creation, in so many ways designed carefully by Him and in this case, especially yours."

She's right. The book of Esther has no mention of the name of God, yet His handprint is all over ever word of the book in lives of those people. God's all over this too and although I don't know specifics, I know God loves His creation and the dying it experiences was brought about by sin that His creation didn't choose, all the more reason to believe in its perfect restoration.

A day at a time

I realized something about myself last night. My inability to live in the present really is crippling sometimes.

I suppose I've always known that I mull over the past and overplan the future. As a result, I spend a lot of time overthinking words I've said or situations in which I wished I'd done something different. Conversely, I spend just as much, if not more time worrying about the future. Really overridden with anxiety and dread sometimes. Like now.

While Bob - a very "in the moment" sort of guy - spends the time we have left with Gibson enjoying him, I could very well waste the time sobbing over what I'm going to do without him.

But then, isn't that how God must see my every days? He wants me to live with his daily manna. I know He's going to give me enough to get me through. Enough to have joy in a moment. Enough to have some of the most memorable times with my dog even now while he's sick.

For people who don't have dogs and don't get dog lovers, this parallel with my relationship to God may seem trite. But I believe with all my heart that He put Gibson in my life to not only teach me patience and kindness but to model the kind of unconditional love that He offers us. It really never matters how selfish I am - Gibson loves me anyway. It never matters that I've got no time for him and that he is on my last nerve - he loves me just the same. And sought me out to love me just the same the same as if I opened my arms.

Jesus didn't spend his 33 years of life mourning his eventual death. He lived and lived so fully that it serves as a template to all of us. A life full of joy and meaning. I need to live that way right now and it's going to take some work. I could pray that Gibson will be healed but that doesn't seem likely and I can't know if that's God's will for us. But I can pray with full confidence, knowing that He will answer, for the peace that comes with His sufficiency to meet the need of my day each morning. With joy and peace and love. I know He wants that. He wants that for me now when it's hard and He wants that for me for always.

Gibson

When I first began blogging, it was in memorial to my grandmother, the summer before she passed away. The reactivation of the blog seemed this time to not be connected to sadness and death.

But yesterday morning I took my beagle Gibson to the vet because while still energetic as a goofball, had been laboring in his breath since Friday night. The news was not good. All indications point to lung cancer and the prognosis is bleak - they hope he'll make it to Christmas. Seems crazy and unfair and just horribly sad.

Yesterday was relatively terrible. Not for him. He's still bopping around because he can't understand vet language. I'm sure he doesn't get while I'm crying all the time either. I called my pet loving family on both sides and they were devastated too.

You see, Gibson was the first real commitment for Bob and I. 13 years ago we got engaged in September and in March we picked up a new 6 week old puppy that never made it back home. We picked him out when he was still very tiny and allowed to stay inside but he was the offspring of two hunting dogs (Hook and Juliette) and was sent back to living in a run with a little warming room. It was winter and so cold and at least one puppy had died already when it wandered out into the run. So we got our vet's okay to keep him and he never lived outside again. He's come a long way since then sleeping on a memory foam mattress between the two of us for the last near 13 years...... :)

Bob wasn't a dog person. His sister had a beagle when she lived at home but they hadn't grown up with dogs. So I don't think he realized when I asked him to come with me to see them after they were born that there was no way we'd come home without picking one out. He was hooked by that furry little poofball from the very beginning. We picked him because he was the most uniquely marked of all them - all dark on his back. His name was Dagny (girl dog name) from that time until we took him to the vet and Dr. Childress told us she was a he :).

So I guess for a time, I'll record some of these stories of the life and time of the very best friend a couple could ever have. I can promise you that as I write these, I will be sad and probably sobbing but writing them is my way of celebrating his life.

Unreasonable

This week I read a review of Matthew 10:8b "freely you received, freely give" that noted that the word for freely is also translated unreasonably. Unreasonable service. Interesting.

For so much of my early adult life, I didn't get service. I knew I should want to serve out of my love for Jesus but that wasn't where my desire to participate in service projects came from. I thought it would be fun and personally fullfilling and deep down, I knew I'd feel pretty good when I saw how others viewed me.

As my relationship with Christ has grown, serving has certainly felt different. My desire to serve comes from a near urgency to share the overflow in my heart of what God has given me. It is amazing how God has changed my motivations and yet far exceeds the benefits I youthfully and naively calculated.

As we enter a universal season of giving, as Christians, we are challenged to make the giving different. Unreasonable service and giving motivated by an unreasonable grace from our Father. May this be the message we deliver.