by jphilo | May 5, 2009 | Church Newsletter Columns
The Lord is not slow about His promise,
as some count slowness, but is patient toward you,
not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.
II Peter 3:9
In my personal opinion, the world would run more efficiently if God ran His plans by me before launching any new initiatives. In the past, life would have gone smoother if He’d consulted me about how long my father should suffer from multiple sclerosis, how many years of medical trauma our baby needed to experience, and when Mom’s Alzheimer’s should have commenced.
I have suggestions beyond the medical front, also. I could tell God that one of my friends has wandered in the wilderness of despair longer than I deem necessary. Also, I believe a hard trek on the road to book publication would have been preferable to the marathon He mapped out. Whenever our small church sets up for Sunday worship, I am inclined to suggest that He speed up the timeline for our church building’s constructions. I would like to remind Him that warm weather is overdue. Finally, I want to tell him that our son’s five years in a monastery amounted to overkill, as do the decades I’ve spent praying for the salvation of family members and dear friends.
I could add more to the list, but I think you get my gist. If you get it, why doesn’t the sovereign God of the universe get it, too? No matter how often I make suggestions, He doesn’t change. And I have to admit that as I have grown older, I’ve developed a grudging admiration for His timing. Over the years, He has met me during the long waits that irritate my time-conscious soul. He’s used them to prepare me for what He alone knew would happen next. He has used life’s interminable pauses rather than short spurts of action, to conform my will to His and to show me His face.
Despite His patient teaching and my increasing experience, I still spend days and even weeks trying to persuade God to let me mess with His Palm Pilot. So far, He hasn’t capitulated, and in the deepest, most hidden recesses of my heart, I know that’s a good thing. His eternal perspective can be trusted far beyond my temporal one.
In His goodness, He waits for my will to bow to His truth, and when it finally does, a prayer of gratitude rises in my heart. I am thankful for a Lord who isn’t slow about His promises, but is patient while He waits for me to trust and rejoice in His impeccably perfect timing.
by jphilo | Apr 1, 2009 | Church Newsletter Columns
Jesus said to her,
“Stop clinging to Me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father;
but go to My brethren, and say to them,
‘I ascend to My Father and to you Father,
and My God and your God.’”
John 20:17
On the first Easter morning, Mary Magdalene walked through the Garden of Gethsemane, saddened by the death of Christ and the end of her relationship with Him. But at her journey’s end, she found a risen Savior. While she rested in His warm embrace, Jesus gave her a mission. “Go to the brethren,” He commanded, “and proclaim the resurrection.”
Mary left the comfort and safety of His arms and began her missional journey. “They won’t believe me,” she must have thought as she carried the gospel message to the brethren. “How do I convince them Jesus is alive and exactly who He claimed to be – God in human form?” But somewhere, perhaps in the power of the relationship He forged with her over three years, she found the courage for the journey. The certainty of Christ’s presence, the sound of His loving voice, and the memory of His gentle touch guided her along the way.
This Easter morning, our congregation will walk through Gethsemane and mark the fiftieth day of our missional journey. The walk has been inspirational and challenging, convicting and thought-provoking. As Easter approaches, my walk is tinged with growing sadness as I anticipate the end of our corporate journey.
I know the risen Savior waits outside the empty tomb to embrace me and remind me of the mission He’s prepared. “Go,” He will tell me on Easter morning. “Proclaim the resurrection.” But, I’m frightened by His command. I don’t want to take the gospel into the world. The mission is too big for me, the gospel message is foreign to the lost, too unbelievable for them to accept. Outside Christ’s warm embrace, I am doomed to failure.
My steps falter. Only the assurance of a risen Savior gives me courage for the journey. The certainty of His presence, the sound of His loving voice, and memory of His gentle touch guides my steps. Through the power of my relationship with Jesus, I will complete my mission by forging new relationships with those who don’t yet know Him. The strength of those relationships will carry us through the garden, past the empty tomb, and into the presence of the living God who died and rose again.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
by jphilo | Mar 7, 2009 | Church Newsletter Columns
“In the same way that You gave Me a mission in the world,
I give them a mission in the world…
Then the world might believe that You, in fact, sent Me.”
John 17:18, 21b
Two weeks after college graduation, Hiram and I moved to cowboy country. The locals were an assortment of tobacco-chewing, and in some cases, toothless people who wore western shirts, boot cut Levis, cowboy boots, and hats to the country-western jamborees, square dances, and rodeos they considered top drawer entertainment.
It was a different world. The town was overgrown with weeds. Every street was gravel, every vehicle was a truck, and every truck was called an “outfit.” As owners of a VW Beetle, preppy dressers, and regular church-goers, we stuck out like a couple of sore thumbs. The Corner Bar betting pool said we might last six months.
We stayed seven years. At first, the economic downturn of the late 1970s kept us there. But slowly, the people became dear to us though we never felt entirely comfortable in their world. We never bought cowboy boots, but we attended the county fair and rodeos. We didn’t drive a four-wheel drive outfit, but Hiram went on trail rides and I joined the Extension Club. We weren’t country-western fans, but we took square dance lessons. Somehow, even though we dressed funny, didn’t chew tobacco, and attended church on Sunday, we forged strong friendships. When our very sick son was born in 1982, the people supported us and watched our faith sustain us. Through it all, we had no idea this cowboy world could be a mission from God.
Over two decades later, I understand that their cowboy world was and still is exactly that. When two old friends lost teen-aged and young adult sons I started sending cards to the families every few months. I thank them for their kindness when our baby was sick and share memories of their boys. I promise to pray to the God who lost His Son, to ask Him to sustain and comfort them. Writing the letters is emotionally exhausting. My words are often heavy with grief. But the letters are the heartbridge God has provided for sharing the gospel of Christ.
The cowboy world is not comfortable for us. We’ve never really been part of it, but we remain in it because the people are so dear to us. They’re worth a little two-world tension. After all, they are our precious mission from God.
by jphilo | Feb 6, 2009 | Church Newsletter Columns
But wishing to justify himself, he said to Jesus,
“And who is my neighbor?”
Luke 10:29
When my kids were young, they loved to watch Sesame Street. To tell the truth, so did I. Kermit’s live news reports, Monsterpiece Theater with Alistair Cookie, and the squabbles between Bert and Ernie tickled my funny bone while the actors, especially Bob, and puppets made Allen and Anne feel like they were part of the neighborhood.
Before Bob introduced children to the citizens of Sesame Street, he sang a little jingle. “Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood? Without missing a beat, my kids would belt out the answer.“They’re the people that you meet when you’re walking down the street. They’re the people in your neighborhood.” Then with rapt intention, they watched Bob walk outside and greet fascinatingly ordinary people: plumbers, garbage collectors, doctors, artists, electricians, moms, and dads.
If Sesame Street had been popular when the lawyer asked for a definition of “neighbor,” Jesus could have used Bob’s song to answer the trick question. But all Bob wanted to do was make children feel safe and secure, while Jesus wanted to expand the traditional definition of “neighbor.” So, instead of singing a perky tune, He told the parable of a man who was robbed, beaten and dumped along the road – the first century equivalent of Sesame Street. When some very religious people walked by, they crossed to the other side and left him for dead. But when the ordinary, every day Samaritan found him on the street where he lived, he showed compassion, bandaged his wounds, and became his friend.
Later this month, when GCC launches its Fifty Day Missional Church Initiative later this month, you’ll be challenged to expand your definition of “neighbor.” You’ll learn to maintain a missional mindset toward the fascinatingly ordinary people on your street: at work or school, club meetings and community functions, on vacation, at the store, in the doctor’s office. You’ll be encouraged to show Christ’s compassion to the people you meet by binding their wounds and becoming their friends. You’ll discover the mission field God has prepared for you doesn’t have to be halfway around the world. It begins on the front step of your house. So get ready to open the door.
by jphilo | Jan 6, 2009 | Church Newsletter Columns
…I was the least qualified of any of the available Christians.
God saw to it that I was equipped…
And so here I am, preaching and writing about things that are way over my head,
the inexhaustible riches and generosity of Christ.
Ephesians 3:8
The weekend after Thanksgiving, I was feeling smug about December. The Christmas decorating was done, several gifts had been purchased, my writing tasks for the month looked manageable, and I had outlined a holiday schedule in my planner.
But Monday morning our son phoned from the monastery in West Virginia. The crisis we’d anticipated since he moved there five years ago had arrived. The next two weeks were a blur of days at the monastery, a weekend with relatives in Ohio, a week at the Morgantown, West Virginia clinic where Allen received treatment for post-traumatic stress syndrome, and finally a long trip home together.
Two or three years ago, a crisis like that would have paralyzed me. But God began preparing me for it a while back when I memorized Ephesians 3:8. The verse tells how God prepared Paul for ministry to the Gentiles. God continued to equip me this fall when I read the book Reformission by Mark Driscoll and attended Pastor Tim’s Sunday school class about developing a missional mindset. The book and the class trained me to look at my life as my mission field. So when our son’s call came, I was ready to deal not only with the needs of my family during an emergency situation, but also to look for ways He would use me in it.
In short, I was prepared to be a woman on a mission. While at the monastery, whenever possible, I thanked the monks for their love toward Allen. I answered the questions they had and showed compassion as they released him from their care. At our relatives’ home, I entered into their holiday preparations and thanked them for their willing ministry to us. And at the clinic, which did not claim to be Christian, I told the therapists I was a writer and interviewed them about their treatment methods. By the end of the week, they suggested I write a book for Christians parents about post-traumatic stress in children.
In the next few months, you will have the opportunity to develop a missional midset about your life as GCC launches its missional church initiative. During worship services, in Sunday school classes, at small church and in daily quiet time, you will examine your life circumstances and discover God’s purpose in them. You will be challenged to trust God to equip you for service, and once you are equipped, to take action. In short you will learn to be missional within your ordinary, everyday life.
We’re about to become men and women on mission from God. Are you ready?
by jphilo | Dec 2, 2008 | Church Newsletter Columns
…the shepherds began saying to one another,
“Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this thing that has happened
which the Lord has made known to us.”
Luke 2: 15
A herd of deer moved into our neighborhood this summer. They’re not into block parties, but now and then they traipse across the yard or creep down the road. Sometime when I walk in the morning, I hear twigs snap in the underbrush, or I see them gathered by the creek, or I surprise them on the road. But mostly, they hide in the woods and watch me stride by, oblivious and unknowing.
I want a picture of my neighbors, something to remind me of their presence. So every morning I take my camera on my walk. The deer have cooperated on several occasions, making enough noise for me to locate them in the woods, holding still long enough for me to find my camera and start shooting. But something always goes wrong: the deer hide in the shadows so the pictures are dark and fuzzy, the camera is on the wrong setting or the battery dies, a car barrels down the road and sends the deer running.
But I refuse to give up. Someday the conditions will be perfect, and I’ll photograph my shy, elusive neighbors in all their glory. When that happens, people will know because I’ll share the picture with everyone. No way will I keep quiet when the great day arrives. I’ll post the photo on my blog and on Facebook, then get an enlargement made and hang it somewhere at home.
Maybe my chance will come this December, even as the light grows weaker, the shadows deepen, and the cold intensifies. Such circumstances don’t hold much hope, but I’ll keep trying. After all, God once roused a bunch of lonely shepherds sitting on a hillside one dark night. He sent them to Bethlehem and showed Himself to them in a dirty stable, lying in a lowly manger. Not the circumstances anyone would pick for a press conference, much less for revealing the long-hidden face of God. But His methods proved effective. The shepherds left the manger with the picture of Jesus written large on their hearts. They went back to the hillside, glorifying and praising God for showing them the long hidden truth, the hope of all who believe.
Sometimes hidden things are best revealed in less-than-perfect circumstances. So I’ll keep carrying my camera on my morning walks. I’ll watch for my neighbors on these wintery mornings, and maybe I’ll get my deer picture yet. Stranger things have happened in out-of-the-way places, in the cold and in the dark. In one particular case, the results were eternally glorious.
