In the story of the healing of the paralytic in Mark 3:1-5, the great fault of the Sadducees and Pharisees was that they had become enslaved to their liturgical calendar.
Healing could not have happened on the Sabbath because man-made laws were more important than the men for whom they were created to serve, they would say.
How sad when the loving compassion of the Living God grows stale under the uncompromising devotion of religion.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Chain Prayers need Deliverance
I just received another one of those dumb chain prayers in my inbox - you know, the ones that have a nice prayer for prosperity and then say if you forward it to "7 other people within the next 10 minutes" it promises some sort of blessing?
I get two or three of these a week. "If you want God's blessing," they say, "Don't break the chain."
I have some advice for you. Break the chain.
These "Chain Prayers" are about the furthest thing from authentic Christianity that I can imagine. It borders on the practice of superstition, luck, and good fortune and flies in the face of people who have been called out of the practices of the world for a vibrant and living relationship with Jesus Christ.
Don't be fooled. Jesus doesn't not allow Himself to be manipulated. Do you think the power of these letters forces Him to act on your behalf?
Woe to us for thinking we can create anything good by "passing this prayer onto 10 of your best friends - and, be careful; if you break the chain you'll be out of the blessing!" How absolutely silly!
Well meaning Christians have sent me things like this. You've probably received them as well. Perhap even forwarded them along. (It's okay, you won't loose your salvatoin over it.) These prayers contain wonderful, sympathetic, touch-feely sentiments but they invite us into a practice that lies outside the scope of who we are called to be.
Our "promise of blessings" and "divine favor" do not rise and fall with the forwarding or deleting of a Chain Prayer. We serve a Heavenly Father who delights in giving us all things, simply for the asking. We have been ushered into the very throne of Grace and been invited to speak with Him as a friend. Our blessing, favor, healing, and salvation can only be found there. When we place the source of our blessing in anything less than the Person of Christ we have once again succomed and demoted ourselves back to our old sinful, pagan practice - things that have no place (nor carry any weight) in the Kingdom of God.
So the next time you receive an email promising you fame, success, good fortune, or a special blessing, break it, delete it, and cancel it's power. Don't worry. You won't be keeping another person you love from a special blessing, nor will their day be miserable. What even gives you the idea you have the power to do that in the first place?!
Let's put an end to these chain prayers. Make the decision now to simply tell Jesus your need. (Ask Him to bless everyone in adress book as well!)
I get two or three of these a week. "If you want God's blessing," they say, "Don't break the chain."
I have some advice for you. Break the chain.
These "Chain Prayers" are about the furthest thing from authentic Christianity that I can imagine. It borders on the practice of superstition, luck, and good fortune and flies in the face of people who have been called out of the practices of the world for a vibrant and living relationship with Jesus Christ.
Don't be fooled. Jesus doesn't not allow Himself to be manipulated. Do you think the power of these letters forces Him to act on your behalf?
Woe to us for thinking we can create anything good by "passing this prayer onto 10 of your best friends - and, be careful; if you break the chain you'll be out of the blessing!" How absolutely silly!
Well meaning Christians have sent me things like this. You've probably received them as well. Perhap even forwarded them along. (It's okay, you won't loose your salvatoin over it.) These prayers contain wonderful, sympathetic, touch-feely sentiments but they invite us into a practice that lies outside the scope of who we are called to be.
Our "promise of blessings" and "divine favor" do not rise and fall with the forwarding or deleting of a Chain Prayer. We serve a Heavenly Father who delights in giving us all things, simply for the asking. We have been ushered into the very throne of Grace and been invited to speak with Him as a friend. Our blessing, favor, healing, and salvation can only be found there. When we place the source of our blessing in anything less than the Person of Christ we have once again succomed and demoted ourselves back to our old sinful, pagan practice - things that have no place (nor carry any weight) in the Kingdom of God.
So the next time you receive an email promising you fame, success, good fortune, or a special blessing, break it, delete it, and cancel it's power. Don't worry. You won't be keeping another person you love from a special blessing, nor will their day be miserable. What even gives you the idea you have the power to do that in the first place?!
Let's put an end to these chain prayers. Make the decision now to simply tell Jesus your need. (Ask Him to bless everyone in adress book as well!)
How I Got Filled with the Spirit
Here's a blurb from my book entitled, Meet Me in the Desert. It describes how our Heavenly Father baptised me in the Holy Spirit - enjoy!
I surrendered my life to Christ in November of 1977 on a beach in Central Florida. For me it was all about “giving in” to the Lordship of Christ. I had been wallowing in mud and squandering my wealth for far too long and it was time to get on with the things God had planned for me.
So late one night, sitting in the sand with the roar of waves in the backround, I did it. It felt goofy. But I was just that desperate. I said, “God, I don’t know who you are or what you are. But I’ve heard it said that I need to invite Jesus Christ into my heart and I will be saved. So, I now invite Jesus into my heart. I guess that’s it. Amen.”
When I arose from that beach I had a sense that something “very right” had happened. Over the course of the following months I bought a Bible, read it every day, and began to see the beauty of my Lord Jesus Christ everywhere I went.
While things on the inside had changed dramatically things on the outside were still the same: I still lived in the same beach house, still hung out with the same people who still had their same parties each and every night. For a while I had great satisfaction in having the strength to being able to be in the same room with them without sharing in the same old activities. As the nights wore on, however, there were times when I lacked discipline to stay the straight and narrow road.
“Where is your power, Lord?” I prayed.
Previous to my conversion I had experienced cult and occult power – some of which was frighteningly powerful. I knew God was bigger than Satan, yet – up to that point – had not experienced the fullness of God’s power in my life. I grew increasingly frustrated and “backslid” more times than I care to admit. Where was this so-called “victorious life in Christ”?
Shortly thereafter I received a call from a friend who invited me to a “church meeting at the Quality Courts Hotel on A1A,” in Cocoa Beach. I hitchhiked up and we met in the lobby. The moment we walked into the banquet hall I was literally overcome with something I had never experienced: the power of God’s love. I looked around in awe. People everwhere were laughing, hugging; the room was filled with electricity – and the band hadn’t even played yet!
As the worship began, the Presence of God filled the songs with a sweet fragarance of grace. It was a thick, almost cloud-like. And, though the people leading music looked normal, like me (young, blue jeans, t-shirts, and long hair), their faces grew ablaze with the visible presence of God’s undeniable joy. I didn’t know any of the songs, but it didn’t matter. I felt that even if I sang the wrong notes it would still be “right” somehow.
At one point the worhip leader strummed one chord and invited us into a time of free-form worship. As I observed, everyone around me began singing their own words and melodies in adoration to the Lord. It was beautiful. None of it was rehearsed, but it was choreographed piece of music I have ever heard. Most people were standing, eyes closed and hands upheld. I was astutely aware of the sacredness of the moment and slowly dropped to my chair, burying my head in my open palms.
I heard behind me a man singing, in what I now know to be “tongues.” As he sang my heart was strangly attracted, spiritually riveted to his voice. The more he sang, the more my being seemed to rock with the ebb and flow of his song. It was then when I began to experience the power of the Father’s love poured out to me through the Holy Spirit (Romans 5:5)
In the midst of it all I saw (in my mind) a vision of a door. It was cracked opened about an inch and had intense white light pouring in from its sides, top and bottom. I gazed in awe and wondered how something so brilliant wouldn’t hurt my eyes. I leaned forward and tried to get a better look.
That’s when I heard God say, “Bill, you know I love you.”
I nodded intently. “Yes, Lord, I do.”
“And you know I will never love you any more, or any less, than I love you right now – right?”
“Yes, Lord, I do.”
“There’s nothing you can do to make me love you any more, or any less, than I do at this moment. You know that, right?
“Yes. I do.”
“But, listen: I have more for you.”
“More? For me?”
“Do you want more of Me?”
(Did I want more of Him? By that time in my life I had already realized that everything in the world paled in the face of the love and knowledge of Jesus. I was a fully devoted, fully sold-out, Jesus Freak and wanted – needed – anything and everything He died to give to me. Did I want more of Him? You bet I did!)
“Oh yes, Lord,” I cried. “You know I – “
And before I could finish the statement, the door flew open and I was immersed in the overwhelming light of Christ. In an instant, I saw the horridness of my sin – its effect and stain – completely and wholly swallowed up by God’s unconditional, holy love. I keeled over in my chair and sobbed as the love of God cleansed, restored, and empowered me in the depth of my being. My friends surrounded me, laid their hands on me, and blessed me. I was finally experiencing the power of God, filling me from head to toe, giving me the power I needed to be a victorious follower of Jesus Christ.
The whole time this man behind me was singing away, praising God in his own tongue; his voice rising and lowering with the ebb and flow of the miracle happingin in my heart. God was breaking my stubborn pride. In His unrelenting and undeserving mercy, He was restoring the years the locusts had eaten, giving me a heart of flesh for a heart of stone, and trading my sorrows for the joy of the Lord!
Afterwards I couldn’t wait to get home. I ran through the door, headed down the hallway, turned on the bathroom light and looked at myself in the mirror. The experience of God’s power had been so intense that I had to see if I had changed on the outside! In my reflection I saw the radiant face of a young man who had finally found what he was looking for – the peace and power of God in his life. The waters of the Laver had been poured out upon my heart, washing me clean of my sin and filling me with the unimaginable power of the Holy Spirit.
I remember looking at myself in the mirror and saying, “Don’t you ever loose this!” And, today, some thirty years later – by God’s grace and His everlasting faithfulness – I haven’t.
A few years later I heard a song by the late great Keith Green which articulated the experiance:
Like a foolish dreamer, trying to build a highway to the sky,
All my hopes would come tumbling down,
And I never knew just why,
Until today, when you pulled away the clouds that hung like curtains
On my eyes,
Well I've been blind all these wasted years
And I though I was so wise,
But then you took me by surprise.
Like waking up from the longest dream, how real it seemed,
Until your love broke through,
I've been lost in a fantasy, that blinded me,
Until your love broke through.
All my life I've been searching for that crazy missing part,
And with one touch, you just rolled away the stone
That held my heart,
And now I see that the answer was as easy, as just asking you in,
And I am so sure I could never doubt your gentle touch again,
It's like the power of the wind.
Like waking up from the longest dream, how real it seemed,
until your love broke through,
I've been lost in a fantasy, that blinded me,
Until your love, until your love, broke through.
(From the song, Your Love Broke Through, Keith Green)
That was my first visit to the Laver. And I have returned to it many, many times (remember Ephesians 5:18!). The Laver is always there for us. Why not pause now – just for a moment – bow your head to His throne of Grace – and ask the Father to fill you afresh with the power of the Holy Spirit?
I surrendered my life to Christ in November of 1977 on a beach in Central Florida. For me it was all about “giving in” to the Lordship of Christ. I had been wallowing in mud and squandering my wealth for far too long and it was time to get on with the things God had planned for me.
So late one night, sitting in the sand with the roar of waves in the backround, I did it. It felt goofy. But I was just that desperate. I said, “God, I don’t know who you are or what you are. But I’ve heard it said that I need to invite Jesus Christ into my heart and I will be saved. So, I now invite Jesus into my heart. I guess that’s it. Amen.”
When I arose from that beach I had a sense that something “very right” had happened. Over the course of the following months I bought a Bible, read it every day, and began to see the beauty of my Lord Jesus Christ everywhere I went.
While things on the inside had changed dramatically things on the outside were still the same: I still lived in the same beach house, still hung out with the same people who still had their same parties each and every night. For a while I had great satisfaction in having the strength to being able to be in the same room with them without sharing in the same old activities. As the nights wore on, however, there were times when I lacked discipline to stay the straight and narrow road.
“Where is your power, Lord?” I prayed.
Previous to my conversion I had experienced cult and occult power – some of which was frighteningly powerful. I knew God was bigger than Satan, yet – up to that point – had not experienced the fullness of God’s power in my life. I grew increasingly frustrated and “backslid” more times than I care to admit. Where was this so-called “victorious life in Christ”?
Shortly thereafter I received a call from a friend who invited me to a “church meeting at the Quality Courts Hotel on A1A,” in Cocoa Beach. I hitchhiked up and we met in the lobby. The moment we walked into the banquet hall I was literally overcome with something I had never experienced: the power of God’s love. I looked around in awe. People everwhere were laughing, hugging; the room was filled with electricity – and the band hadn’t even played yet!
As the worship began, the Presence of God filled the songs with a sweet fragarance of grace. It was a thick, almost cloud-like. And, though the people leading music looked normal, like me (young, blue jeans, t-shirts, and long hair), their faces grew ablaze with the visible presence of God’s undeniable joy. I didn’t know any of the songs, but it didn’t matter. I felt that even if I sang the wrong notes it would still be “right” somehow.
At one point the worhip leader strummed one chord and invited us into a time of free-form worship. As I observed, everyone around me began singing their own words and melodies in adoration to the Lord. It was beautiful. None of it was rehearsed, but it was choreographed piece of music I have ever heard. Most people were standing, eyes closed and hands upheld. I was astutely aware of the sacredness of the moment and slowly dropped to my chair, burying my head in my open palms.
I heard behind me a man singing, in what I now know to be “tongues.” As he sang my heart was strangly attracted, spiritually riveted to his voice. The more he sang, the more my being seemed to rock with the ebb and flow of his song. It was then when I began to experience the power of the Father’s love poured out to me through the Holy Spirit (Romans 5:5)
In the midst of it all I saw (in my mind) a vision of a door. It was cracked opened about an inch and had intense white light pouring in from its sides, top and bottom. I gazed in awe and wondered how something so brilliant wouldn’t hurt my eyes. I leaned forward and tried to get a better look.
That’s when I heard God say, “Bill, you know I love you.”
I nodded intently. “Yes, Lord, I do.”
“And you know I will never love you any more, or any less, than I love you right now – right?”
“Yes, Lord, I do.”
“There’s nothing you can do to make me love you any more, or any less, than I do at this moment. You know that, right?
“Yes. I do.”
“But, listen: I have more for you.”
“More? For me?”
“Do you want more of Me?”
(Did I want more of Him? By that time in my life I had already realized that everything in the world paled in the face of the love and knowledge of Jesus. I was a fully devoted, fully sold-out, Jesus Freak and wanted – needed – anything and everything He died to give to me. Did I want more of Him? You bet I did!)
“Oh yes, Lord,” I cried. “You know I – “
And before I could finish the statement, the door flew open and I was immersed in the overwhelming light of Christ. In an instant, I saw the horridness of my sin – its effect and stain – completely and wholly swallowed up by God’s unconditional, holy love. I keeled over in my chair and sobbed as the love of God cleansed, restored, and empowered me in the depth of my being. My friends surrounded me, laid their hands on me, and blessed me. I was finally experiencing the power of God, filling me from head to toe, giving me the power I needed to be a victorious follower of Jesus Christ.
The whole time this man behind me was singing away, praising God in his own tongue; his voice rising and lowering with the ebb and flow of the miracle happingin in my heart. God was breaking my stubborn pride. In His unrelenting and undeserving mercy, He was restoring the years the locusts had eaten, giving me a heart of flesh for a heart of stone, and trading my sorrows for the joy of the Lord!
Afterwards I couldn’t wait to get home. I ran through the door, headed down the hallway, turned on the bathroom light and looked at myself in the mirror. The experience of God’s power had been so intense that I had to see if I had changed on the outside! In my reflection I saw the radiant face of a young man who had finally found what he was looking for – the peace and power of God in his life. The waters of the Laver had been poured out upon my heart, washing me clean of my sin and filling me with the unimaginable power of the Holy Spirit.
I remember looking at myself in the mirror and saying, “Don’t you ever loose this!” And, today, some thirty years later – by God’s grace and His everlasting faithfulness – I haven’t.
A few years later I heard a song by the late great Keith Green which articulated the experiance:
Like a foolish dreamer, trying to build a highway to the sky,
All my hopes would come tumbling down,
And I never knew just why,
Until today, when you pulled away the clouds that hung like curtains
On my eyes,
Well I've been blind all these wasted years
And I though I was so wise,
But then you took me by surprise.
Like waking up from the longest dream, how real it seemed,
Until your love broke through,
I've been lost in a fantasy, that blinded me,
Until your love broke through.
All my life I've been searching for that crazy missing part,
And with one touch, you just rolled away the stone
That held my heart,
And now I see that the answer was as easy, as just asking you in,
And I am so sure I could never doubt your gentle touch again,
It's like the power of the wind.
Like waking up from the longest dream, how real it seemed,
until your love broke through,
I've been lost in a fantasy, that blinded me,
Until your love, until your love, broke through.
(From the song, Your Love Broke Through, Keith Green)
That was my first visit to the Laver. And I have returned to it many, many times (remember Ephesians 5:18!). The Laver is always there for us. Why not pause now – just for a moment – bow your head to His throne of Grace – and ask the Father to fill you afresh with the power of the Holy Spirit?
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Can Love NOT Heal? Yes.
When our faith is met with God's power, healing happens. Faith has to be present somewhere, in someone, for healing to happen. Without faith it is impossible to please God. That being true, I might also add, without faith it is impossible to create access to God. Praise God for the gift of faith!
We have the glorious experience of interfacing with the Creator many times in life. While God has chosen to give us experiences of His grace sovereignly, there are also times when He withholds the experience of His Presence until beckoned by the simple faith of one of His own. In the case of the friends who lowered the man from the ceiling to be healed by Jesus, it was their faith which provoked the Son of God to forgive the ailing man from his sins. When He saw their faith, He moved to meet it. (See Mark 2:3-5.)
Sometimes a person leaves the ministry of the Holy Spirit unhealed and, though it would seem, untouched. Yet this is God's wisdom – the choice not to heal. For, in the words of St. Gregory of Nazianzus, "healing is not reasonable in the case of those who would afterwards be injured by unbelief." (St. Gregory of Nazianzus, Fourth Theological Oration, 10. B#7, p.183)
Only God knows what our faith levels will be in the future. If we are sore intent - perhaps even dying - to to live within the trajectory of discipleship, he heals. Yet, if he knows that we might, after the room being swept clean, open it up again to the same critters for which we needed healing in the first place, it is an act of Love NOT to heal - or even to consider what we think we need best.
Would He bestow a blessing? Sure. A special grace/anointing to make it 'round the next bend? Well of course. Perhaps even gifts of ministry wherewith to serve others? It happens all the time. But would He bestow healing to that which He knows will be fractured or undone by one action or another?
In cases such as this, love demands He NOT heal.
God lives as Master over Death itself. Nothing is impossible for God. Yet, there are things He chooses not to accomplish in our lives – and that for good reason, reasons for which we simply need to trust. And while His “inaction” may lie behind disappointment, frustration, anger, pain, and even bitterness - it too, in itself, is an act of healing – an act of preventative healing, if you will, motivated by His knowledge of your future, faltering faith. In this case, God's greatest healing for you would be, and perhaps is, not to heal.
Why? Because He loves you.
We have the glorious experience of interfacing with the Creator many times in life. While God has chosen to give us experiences of His grace sovereignly, there are also times when He withholds the experience of His Presence until beckoned by the simple faith of one of His own. In the case of the friends who lowered the man from the ceiling to be healed by Jesus, it was their faith which provoked the Son of God to forgive the ailing man from his sins. When He saw their faith, He moved to meet it. (See Mark 2:3-5.)
Sometimes a person leaves the ministry of the Holy Spirit unhealed and, though it would seem, untouched. Yet this is God's wisdom – the choice not to heal. For, in the words of St. Gregory of Nazianzus, "healing is not reasonable in the case of those who would afterwards be injured by unbelief." (St. Gregory of Nazianzus, Fourth Theological Oration, 10. B#7, p.183)
Only God knows what our faith levels will be in the future. If we are sore intent - perhaps even dying - to to live within the trajectory of discipleship, he heals. Yet, if he knows that we might, after the room being swept clean, open it up again to the same critters for which we needed healing in the first place, it is an act of Love NOT to heal - or even to consider what we think we need best.
Would He bestow a blessing? Sure. A special grace/anointing to make it 'round the next bend? Well of course. Perhaps even gifts of ministry wherewith to serve others? It happens all the time. But would He bestow healing to that which He knows will be fractured or undone by one action or another?
In cases such as this, love demands He NOT heal.
God lives as Master over Death itself. Nothing is impossible for God. Yet, there are things He chooses not to accomplish in our lives – and that for good reason, reasons for which we simply need to trust. And while His “inaction” may lie behind disappointment, frustration, anger, pain, and even bitterness - it too, in itself, is an act of healing – an act of preventative healing, if you will, motivated by His knowledge of your future, faltering faith. In this case, God's greatest healing for you would be, and perhaps is, not to heal.
Why? Because He loves you.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Something Better than an Email
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!
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!
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
Monday, January 7, 2008
Journey of the Magi
Fellow Magi,
I stumbled across this powerful T.S. Eliot Poem this morning in my quiet time. Check it out for yourself.
Journey of the Magi
'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped in away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no imformation, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say)
satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like
Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
I stumbled across this powerful T.S. Eliot Poem this morning in my quiet time. Check it out for yourself.
Journey of the Magi
'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped in away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no imformation, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say)
satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like
Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
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