Two Sundays ago we were singing the song, “Til I See You Again.” The song’s chorus includes the phrase, “I will learn to trust you…” As we sang the song I had the impression that someone out there was giving their life to the Lord.
After the song I said to the congregation that I knew that someone had given their life to Christ during the singing of that song. I mentioned that when a person comes to the Lord there is more celebration in heaven than any of us could muster up with our guitars and worship team.
And I asked that person to email me and tell me who they were.
Sunday afternoon came. I checked my computer. No email. Sunday night I logged on, disappointed that no one had written me. Monday morning came. No email. Monday afternoon. Nada. I was beginning to feel like I missed the Lord. What a fool, I thought. I went home. I take Tuesdays off.
Tuesday morning I wake up and take my daughter to the dentist. I’m sitting there looking at a recipe on how to make grilled cheese sandwiches with brie cheese and crabmeat in the Houston magazine when I hear a woman’s voice behind me.
“Father Bill? Is that you?"
I glanced back to see a woman who I know attends church. “Hey. Good to see you.”
“It’s so funny to see you here." She pausesd "I was going to email you this morning.”
"Email?“ I dropped the magazine, turned to face her and smiled. “And why were you gong to email me?”
And she shared how, during the singing of that song, she had given her life to Christ! Tears came to our eyes. This was the real deal.
“This is way out of my comfort zone,” she said. “But it is really happening.”
We talked for a while, she left, and I sat there thinking, “Isn’t that just like the Lord?” There I was looking for an email and God gave me a person-to-person confirmation. I guess the redemption of a soul is something that should be shared, person to person.
By the way, last Sunday, during worship I was looking out over the congregation as we were singing and we caught eyes. She was beaming!
Friday, April 25, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Volunteers or Ministers?
I have often heard volunteers say, “I am not a minister.” And, for the most part, in the secular realm, that statement could be true. But as Christians, everything we do – whether it is getting paid big bucks and flying all over the globe, or copying pamphlets to be stuffed in give-a-way bags – it's all considered ministry.
A volunteer has an easier time of it. He or she comes in, does the duty, and leaves. Nothing more but a cog in the machine. But a minister is different. A minister has something on the inside going on. He or she is expressing a hint of passion in everything they do. And, she knows her actions represent the Lord. Thus, she is accountable to present her skills with deliberate passion and the fragrance of eternity bound therein.
If being a volunteer is a “duty;" being a minister is a life-style. If being a volunteer is a task; being a minister is a life-style. See the difference?
Most of us Christians err on two extremes: either our notions of “the ministry” are so highly defined (i.e it is a sacred activity reserved only for the oradained seminarian), or we think the word “ministry” is just the church's word for volunteer, and treat it as such. (To be fair, the church has always tended to "Christianize" common-place things - like the the word "narthex" for "foyer," for example). Both extremes are not only bad theology but taint the wonderful expressions of what God could be doing in you.
On the one hand, “ministry” is the outpouring of who you have been made to be. It is the releasing of your heart and energies into the community. When you dare to give away the stuff in your heart - the stuff God gave you in the first place - it’s like the pouring forth of water onto a dry and thirsty land which, in it's need to have something "living," laps it up. And somewhere in all that, Jesus - seeing the water you offer - does what he does best: he turns it into wine. Before you know it, “ministry” changes from something a seminarian gets paid to do to something you get to do.
On the other extreme, if ministry was just an excuse to volunteer for a task, where would the abundant life be? The world is dying. THe last think it needs is another purposeless volunteer who needs to fill a space? On the contrary, you have been wired with specific gifts, passions, and purpose. Simply volunteering for things is not only a waste of God’s good gift and talent invested in you, but it robs you of your full potential to grow and mature into a seasoned diciple of Christ. Anyone can volunteer, only you can minister.
The idea of ministry presupposes a higher call - that you are dong the thing that you do for, on behalf of – as a representative of – God. When your actions stem from that kind of a heart, everything changes. Your expectations are high. Your accountability is raised through the roof. You are careful to dot every “I,” and cross every “t,” You care for those you lead. For, at the end of the day, you know your activity reaches for greater than just a duty at some mundane hour in the afternoon. It is an action that has eternal repercussions. The very kingdom of God is influenced by the gifts you bring with a servants heart.
We have no volunteers at our Church. You – me – all of us – are ministers. We may not have much, but we lay it out before the Lord in humility and grace. We know that he will take our water and turn it into wine.
Go with that.
A volunteer has an easier time of it. He or she comes in, does the duty, and leaves. Nothing more but a cog in the machine. But a minister is different. A minister has something on the inside going on. He or she is expressing a hint of passion in everything they do. And, she knows her actions represent the Lord. Thus, she is accountable to present her skills with deliberate passion and the fragrance of eternity bound therein.
If being a volunteer is a “duty;" being a minister is a life-style. If being a volunteer is a task; being a minister is a life-style. See the difference?
Most of us Christians err on two extremes: either our notions of “the ministry” are so highly defined (i.e it is a sacred activity reserved only for the oradained seminarian), or we think the word “ministry” is just the church's word for volunteer, and treat it as such. (To be fair, the church has always tended to "Christianize" common-place things - like the the word "narthex" for "foyer," for example). Both extremes are not only bad theology but taint the wonderful expressions of what God could be doing in you.
On the one hand, “ministry” is the outpouring of who you have been made to be. It is the releasing of your heart and energies into the community. When you dare to give away the stuff in your heart - the stuff God gave you in the first place - it’s like the pouring forth of water onto a dry and thirsty land which, in it's need to have something "living," laps it up. And somewhere in all that, Jesus - seeing the water you offer - does what he does best: he turns it into wine. Before you know it, “ministry” changes from something a seminarian gets paid to do to something you get to do.
On the other extreme, if ministry was just an excuse to volunteer for a task, where would the abundant life be? The world is dying. THe last think it needs is another purposeless volunteer who needs to fill a space? On the contrary, you have been wired with specific gifts, passions, and purpose. Simply volunteering for things is not only a waste of God’s good gift and talent invested in you, but it robs you of your full potential to grow and mature into a seasoned diciple of Christ. Anyone can volunteer, only you can minister.
The idea of ministry presupposes a higher call - that you are dong the thing that you do for, on behalf of – as a representative of – God. When your actions stem from that kind of a heart, everything changes. Your expectations are high. Your accountability is raised through the roof. You are careful to dot every “I,” and cross every “t,” You care for those you lead. For, at the end of the day, you know your activity reaches for greater than just a duty at some mundane hour in the afternoon. It is an action that has eternal repercussions. The very kingdom of God is influenced by the gifts you bring with a servants heart.
We have no volunteers at our Church. You – me – all of us – are ministers. We may not have much, but we lay it out before the Lord in humility and grace. We know that he will take our water and turn it into wine.
Go with that.
Monday, April 7, 2008
The Frustated King
Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a young, very self established young prince. He was blessed with the wisdom of the ancients’ and had the wondrous ability to do all things well. Soon after his 21st birthday his father, the King, established him as Coordinator of His Mighty Kingdom. “My son does all things well,” the King proclaimed. “It is my dream that all of my faithful subjects become as he is today. Go, my son.. Share what you have been given to everyone you see!”
And the crowd roared! Everyone was filled with the desire to live into the dreams of the King.
Many years came and went. The Father rarely saw his son. And, when he did, he looked haggard, empty – unlike the joyful young man whom he had consecrated years before. In addition, and contrary to his Father’s desire, the Kingdom had begun to shrink. Ponds dried up, illnesses and plagues savaged the land, and the dragons were spawning everywhere.
“My young Prince,” the King questioned. “What is happening to my Kingdom? I left it in your most capable hands and yet I have yet to see my dream established in the hearts of my faithful subjects.”
“Alas, my Father,” the young Prince said, “If it be not for the servants of your Kingdom, I would have had the whole land alive with the joy of your dream.”
“What?” the King questioned. “Tell me more.”
The weary Prince drew closer to his Father’s throne. “Your servants are slow to learn, O Father. They aren’t as gifted as you and I are and thus cannot adequately fulfill the noble task of fulfilling your dream. Thus, O Father, I have taken it upon myself to do all things – without delegating the tasks to other, more menial folk. In this way, we can be sure that the dream of the King will be done decently and in order, made perfect under my most adequate hands.”
At this the King grew sad. Later that night he looked from his bedroom window across the rolling hills of his Kingdom. The sun was setting and the sparse flickering embers of lighted fires began spotting the hills. He heard the bleating of sheep, the barking of a dog, the sounds of children laughing and singing simple songs of the Kingdom., and...
O, how he longed that everyone in the Kingdom could be given the chance to live His dream.
Matthew 28:19
And the crowd roared! Everyone was filled with the desire to live into the dreams of the King.
Many years came and went. The Father rarely saw his son. And, when he did, he looked haggard, empty – unlike the joyful young man whom he had consecrated years before. In addition, and contrary to his Father’s desire, the Kingdom had begun to shrink. Ponds dried up, illnesses and plagues savaged the land, and the dragons were spawning everywhere.
“My young Prince,” the King questioned. “What is happening to my Kingdom? I left it in your most capable hands and yet I have yet to see my dream established in the hearts of my faithful subjects.”
“Alas, my Father,” the young Prince said, “If it be not for the servants of your Kingdom, I would have had the whole land alive with the joy of your dream.”
“What?” the King questioned. “Tell me more.”
The weary Prince drew closer to his Father’s throne. “Your servants are slow to learn, O Father. They aren’t as gifted as you and I are and thus cannot adequately fulfill the noble task of fulfilling your dream. Thus, O Father, I have taken it upon myself to do all things – without delegating the tasks to other, more menial folk. In this way, we can be sure that the dream of the King will be done decently and in order, made perfect under my most adequate hands.”
At this the King grew sad. Later that night he looked from his bedroom window across the rolling hills of his Kingdom. The sun was setting and the sparse flickering embers of lighted fires began spotting the hills. He heard the bleating of sheep, the barking of a dog, the sounds of children laughing and singing simple songs of the Kingdom., and...
O, how he longed that everyone in the Kingdom could be given the chance to live His dream.
Matthew 28:19
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