Manifestation

As you can tell from the date of my last blog entry, it’s been quite a while since I’ve posted anything. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, or not that I haven’t intended to write something. And it’s not that I haven’t had anything to say. It’s just been difficult for me to write lately. To be honest, I’m going through a difficult time in my life. Right now, I would classify life as spiritually chaotic, and when I struggle through times like this, my first inclination is to isolate myself. Since writing has become a manner of communication for me, isolation from the written word has almost become inevitable.

Over the last week or so, several people have asked why my blogs have not been as frequent as usual. To my surprise, some people have even mentioned that they’ve missed them and have encouraged me to get back on a regular schedule again. With all that said, the inevitable question arose: “What am I going to write about?” I posed this question to a good friend of mine, and he replied with the frustratingly obvious: “Why not write about what’s going on in your life right now? What are you having the most trouble with”. I hesitated, and reluctantly the answer became the theme of this blog: I have trouble allowing people to minister to me.

Being in vocational ministry has been much more difficult than I ever thought. Many of the stories that I heard while in seminary have become all too real as I attempt to carve out the ministry that God wants for me. There are times when it can be very lonely and painful, often causing me to question whether or not I want to endure this journey much longer. However, after pouring my heart out to God in prayer, He quickly reminds me of how ridiculous that consideration really is. This is what He created me for, and in reality there is nothing more I would rather do with the rest of my life.

Despite the isolation and times when I feel like I’m in this alone, there are always a handful of people who have offered to take my hand as I walk through this valley. A few are fellow pastors, but most are just friends and acquaintances that I’ve known through my journey of life. And ironically, that’s where I find the most difficulty. Like I said, I have trouble allowing others to minister to me; especially those that are not in ministry as I am. Please don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I believe that everyone has to have a theological background to offer Godly ministry. Some of the most wise and loving people I know have never darkened the door of a seminary or served a day on a church staff.

The problem lies inside me, and is mixed with pride, selfishness and arrogance that automatically want to construct walls as I isolate myself further. I guess I feel that since I’m a minister in the church, I need to have everything together, under control and figured out; whatever that means. I need to be the one that's ministering to others, not being so weak that others have to minister to me, right? Well, let me explain how ridiculous I have found this to be.

Scripture tells us that the Church is the “Body of Christ”, and I believe this to be true in a very literal sense. The Apostle Paul says in 1 Corinthians 12:12-27, that we “are the Body of Christ and individually members of it.” In essence, the Church represents Christ as flesh and blood while He is not physically present on earth. That designation carries the responsibility of acting in the same ways that He acted when he walked the earth. When we offer loving ministry to one another, we are literally manifesting God to each other. And consequently, when we refuse ministry from others, we refuse to allow God to work through someone else, and deny them the opportunity to be used by God.

What I realize is that not only have I been denying others to allow God to work through them, but in essence, I’ve been denying God to speak to me directly. As I call out to God in prayer, “Why are you so silent? Why are you not answering my prayers?”, I am ignoring His voice being poured out through others that He has chosen to use in a divine way. He reminds me that He is present in those that care for me, with hands and feet. Christ with flesh on. It’s Him.

Through the people that reach out to me, I see the reality of 2 Corinthians 1:4. It says that God “comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” The reality is that we all walk through dark times as we journey through this life. Sometimes we are comforted. Sometimes we need comforting. But could it be that God is working through others to comfort me, so that I can then have the peace to again comfort others? Is ministry somewhat of a give-and-take experience as we allow God to work through each other? Could it be that we are all just children of a living God that longs to exhibit His power through each and every one of us in a serendipitous ministry of brothers and sisters in Christ revealing and manifesting God to the world?

So I will choose to receive ministry from anyone who is called to care for me. Because as I do, I have the opportunity to see God speaking to me in the flesh. Hands and feet. Lovingly breaking through the human realm to touch me and reach my deepest need.

Thank you to all who have ministered to me and been Christ with flesh and bones.

The Power of Pain

Let me ask you a question. We live in a culture, where we are constantly taught to avoid pain and suffering at ALL cost, right? Pain and suffering, whether physical or emotional, is meant to be avoided. Go to the doctor for this. Take a pill for that. How is the world are we supposed to teach our children that pain and suffering is part of the Christian's journey, and should not only be expected, but welcomed! In his book “On the Anvil”, Max Lucado takes a look at human sufferings. He compares the suffering of a Christian to that of being on a blacksmith’s anvil. As the blacksmith hammers the hot steel, it’s not exactly a pretty sight. It’s chaotic. It’s ugly. It takes much work. It’s hot and uncomfortable. But after the blacksmith has completed his job, what he is left with is a beautiful piece of metal; perhaps a sword or a valuable tool. The point that Lucado makes is that through our suffering we become refined. We become better. As God allows us to go through the fire, what comes out on the other side is beautiful. Yes, it’s painful, chaotic and ugly. But when the work has come to fruition, what remains is a tool that God can then use, on his terms. Beautiful. Useful. Refined!

In the book of Job, we see the quintessential example of human suffering intertwined with the nature and sovereignty of God. We see life being played out in a great drama. On the big stage we see Satan suggesting that Job was only faithful because of God’s blessings in his life. Take away the blessings, and Job would surely reject and curse God. God begs to differ, knowing full well that Job’s heart was in the right place. “Prove it!”, Satan challenges. God sees redemptive history in front of Him. The big picture. He knows the pain that Job will go through, but in the end it will bring Him glory. And that’s what lies at the heart of this story. God’s glory.

Well, God allows the heat to be turned up on Job’s life and he makes it though the fire. Job became the steel. He was sent into the fire. Thrown upon the anvil. Beaten with the hammer. Refined for God’s will. What remained? A tool to be used for God over the next several thousand years and for all eternity! Pretty awesome, huh? Do you think Job had any idea how his personal suffering would be used for the glory of God? Probably not. In fact, there is no evidence that Job had any idea what was going on between Satan and God. And he probably had never realized what God’s will was throughout his tragedy. All that mattered was God’s glory and Job faithfulness. The point was made.

We all go through tragedy. You may be going through a tragedy as you read this. Most of us do not go through suffering to the magnitude that Job did, but that doesn’t matter. Suffering is suffering. Pain is pain. But as we feel the heat being turned up, and the hammer coming down upon us, do we ask God to stop the pain? Or do we just try asking Him why? Do we ask Him what the purpose of this particular trial might be? How can it be used for His glory? How can it be used in the big picture? How can we grow from it? See, God has a reason for every tear we shed. We may never know what those reasons are, but that really doesn’t matter. What matters is that God receives the glory and we prove to be faithful. And our kids need to see this lived out in our lives. They need to see that we, as parents, teachers, leaders, confront the pain and suffering because it is an element of a fallen world. And they need to see that we welcome pain and suffering because it refines and makes us better!

Try Again

One night last week, my 7 year old boy and I climbed into bed for our nightly ritual of story time. For some reason, he chose an old book of nursery rhymes that we hadn't read in years. "Daddy, Read this one!", my son said pointing to a short little poem titled “Try Again”, by an unknown author. After reading it, I thought to myself, "This sounds kind of familiar!" And after my son went to bed, I meditated on these words a little more. It made me think about “perseverance” and what it really mean to persevere? Is perseverance something that we do, or is persevering more about something that we are? Something that comes from within?

“’Tis a lesson you should heed,
Try again;
If at first you don’t succeed,
Try again;
Then your courage should appear,
For if you will persevere,
You will conquer, never fear;
Try again.
If you find your task is hard
Try again;
Time will bring you your reward
Try again;
All that other folk can do,
Why, with patience, may not you?
Only keep this rule in view,
Try again.”

In the book of James, it says that “the testing of our faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:4) I think that as we mature in our faith, through perseverance, we learn. We grow. Things that once seemed obscure become clear. We find success, and despite our circumstances, we realize that there is really nothing more we need.

Courage. What does it mean to be courageous, especially in today's culture? Life can still be a little scary, can't it? At times, down right terrifying. But we are to "rejoice in our sufferings, because we know suffering produces perseverance”? (Romans 5:3). How does a person rejoice when diagnosed with terminal cancer? How does a parent rejoice when their child is abducted? I guess we can be certain that our fears will be conquered because “in all things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.” (Romans 8:37). Easier said than done, huh?

Like the forming of a pearl, sometimes life requires the passing of time before we see the rewards that life offers us. “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial.” (James 1:12) Later, James reaffirms this promise when he says, "As you know, we consider blessed those who have persevered.” (James 5:11)

See, despite the rat race that we often fall into, and the constant battle to “keep up with the Joneses”, we can still have victory in our perseverance; not by other people's standards, but by those of God. So instead of other people, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus” (Hebrews 12:2) and “let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” (12:1).

The Perfect Failure

We're very sensitive to failure, aren't we? We live in a culture that bases a person's worth on the amount of success they obtain in life. Overall, failure is considered negative, and success is thought to be the only acceptable option. But who decides what is failure and what is success? I wonder if what we sometime consider failure is not such bad thing after all. I wonder if it's possible to view failure as somewhat of a teacher. A motivator. I wonder that if we learn not to fear failure, might we learn much more as we travel the roads of life, and grow more in our spirituality? As we celebrated Easter yesterday, I thought a lot about failure and how it applies to my faith. Failure and faith. They don't seem to go together, do they? Well, let me explain.

This morning, I found myself pondering the same things that I seem to do each year. There is almost a “real time” reflection of the events that transpired over 2000 years ago for me. I sit here and imagine the thoughts that must have been going through the minds of Jesus' disciples just before He rose from the dead. The Messiah had finally come. The Roman yoke of oppression was just about to be cast off and Jesus was going to lead the way into battle! "Hosanna!", they cried on Palm Sunday! "Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!" But then, in a short time of less than a week, things changed radically. Sitting there on Saturday night, cowering in fear, in their minds, it was over. Failure.

Jesus' disciples had been assuming that He was the great military and political Messiah that had been expected by the Jewish people. He had finally come and they had a front row seat! All the hopes and dreams of the Jewish people had finally come to fruition! And just when they thought Jesus was going to mount a stallion, pull out a holy sword and start slaying the Roman scumbags, things start to change. Jesus starts talking about death, betrayal and things that sounded like defeat. Things that sounded like failure. And in a few hours, Jesus was dead. "Uhhh, What just happened?"

Within the course of one evening, Jesus was arrested, brutally beaten and nailed to a cross. His lifeless and disfigured body was taken down form the cross and placed in a sealed tomb. From all practical perspectives, it was over. Life as they thought it was going to be, had now transpired into a future of fear and uncertainty. Can you imagine how they felt? Can you imagine the frustration and anger? The overwhelming anxiety?

“How did we misinterpret what Jesus had been telling us over the last three years?", they must have asked themselves. “Were we totally misled?” “Are we all fools?” “Was our mission with Jesus a complete failure?” "Are we next?" "Will the Roman soldiers soon be breaking down our doors?" "Dude! We're screwed! Game over, man!" The anxiety must have felt like the weight of the world! Fear. Rejection. Anger. Confusion. All of these emotions must have been running wild as they anticipated what would happen next. From the world's point of view, this must have appeared to have been the perfect failure.

There always seems to be two sides to every story. In this case, one side tells us that Jesus' ministry was in fact, a perfect failure. This side leaves Jesus in His tomb and leaves the disciples defeated, broken, dejected and afraid. The other side of the story is what Christians all over the world celebrated yesterday. Something that contradicts all reason. Something happened that had the power to take these eleven broken men that were hiding in fear, and used them to transform the world. He is risen! We serve a God that is alive and loved His creation so much that He was willing to die for them. That means you and that means me. And after all the egg hunts, candy and Easter services, the story still ends the same. He is still risen.

Asking Questions

Lately, I've been getting into some discussions regarding questions about the Christian faith. What I've seen is that a large number of these questions stem from one thing: doubts or a lack of faith. I'll admit, my first reaction to some of these conversations has been frustration, but after meditating on some of the underlying motives, my heart began to soften a little. I began to see that maybe my frustrations were only a natural defense mechanism for my own questions of faith. I know what your thinking, and before you make a decision about my underlying motives for this blog, please indulge me for a cyberspace minute or two. I think you'll see where I'm going with this and maybe even come along for the ride. If not, no worries because I'm paying for the gas, and it's my vehicle.

From time to time, we all have questions about our faith. As we stumble and bump around this life, like a clumsy toddler learning to use his legs, we inevitably bump into things that just don't make sense. We wonder. We question. We wrestle with our thoughts. We get frustrated and many times, we give up. There is so much about God that falls into the unknown, so how can anyone with all honesty say that they have it all figured out? If they do, they either suffer from a slightly swollen ego, or they've been conditioned to believe that questioning God is just a step away from being a heretic. Our Church culture has built a structure that discourages questioning and subtly belittles those who do. And doubts or even unbelief? Forget it! Full out rejection!

But is it OK to question our faith? Is it a natural part of our spiritual walk? Are doubts and fears about our faith acceptable, or are they manifestations of unbelief. Is it possible to believe, but still struggle with unbelief? St. Augustine revealed the nature of questioning faith in Confessions. For him, the mere act of questioning was actually a portal into a deeper faith and a closer relationship with God. In his experience, he saw questioning as an energy that moved him toward God. Learning to ask questions, and how to ask questions is reflected in much of his work. But one thing remains clear, Augustine saw questioning of God and faith in general, as a natural and healthy form of spiritual discipline.

In Mark 9:13-30, Jesus heals a boy that is possessed by a demon. When his father asks Jesus to help them he says, "But if you can, take pity on us and help us." Jesus responds, "If you can? Everything is possible for him who believes." The boy's father responds, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!" Jesus then cast the demon out of the boy. There were no preconditions on the man's faith, and there was no chastisement for his lack of belief. The man proclaims that he understands some of what's going on with Jesus, but some of it is also difficult. Perhaps this man had seen and heard of the miracles Jesus had preformed. Maybe he had heard murmurings that Jesus was the long awaited Messiah, but His rejection by the religious leaders caused him to doubt these claims. Maybe he was afraid. Afraid of letting go of tradition and what he had been taught his entire life.

For me, questioning is liberating. It is a doorway that reveals to me that I serve a God that is big enough to handle the tough questions that I have about Him. But the interesting thing about questioning, is that it actually moves me toward a deeper faith and knowledge that I lacked to begin with. I think that if we remain in unbelief and stubbornly ignore our doubts, we end up with a shallow faith that is actually more dangerous than questioning.

Don't get me wrong. I do believe, I just need help with my unbelief.