There tends to be this perception that when you elect to go into ministry, they give you a shot (similar to the cootie shot), and you become perfect. Lies. No amount of circles, squares or polka-dots make the cootie shot or the perfection shot effective. I still have the same weaknesses, doubts and fears. And I've been learning, slowly, over the past few weeks, the truth of a phrase a pastor shared with me many years ago: "Cheer up! You're much worse than you think you are. But, cheer up! God is so much bigger and better than you think he is."
I think, in all of us, there is a tendency to not want people to see our junk. We like putting on the façade that we're perfect. We have this misguided perception that our imperfection is abnormal. So let me dispel a myth: I am not perfect. (Shocker, I know.) Further, you are not perfect either. But God has a habit of using broken people for his glory. And, here's the kicker, he is glorified in their weakness, because of their weaknesses, and through their weaknesses, not in spite of them. 2 Corinthians 12:9 tells us, "But he (the Lord) said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses, so that God's power may rest upon me." Check out the Biblical line-up of heroes that God used: Abraham (gave his wife away twice), David (adulterer and murderer), Moses (murderer, ran away from conflict, afraid to speak), etc. etc. Imagine if they lived today… you think people are disturbed by Thomas Jefferson's illegitimate children; imagine what they would think of President-King David, and First-Lady Bathsheba. Yet, God did amazing things through these leaders, through their weakness and strengths…
Why does God use weak people? (1) Because there is no such thing as a non-weak person, and (2) because in recognition of our weaknesses, we recognize his strength, and all the glory goes where it's supposed to go. In the same way, I have great hopes that God has incredible plans for us, as his broken people.
Wednesday morning, I awoke to one of the most beautiful sounds that I have heard in the last two months: the soft and steady pelt of rain! For over a month now, the majority of North Carolina has been without rain. We are in a state of "exceptional" drought, and just this week, my county voted to go to stage two water restrictions. Our reservoirs are at half-capacity: we've been hearing dates for when drinking water will run out, if the drought continues. Some of the men and women in InterVarsity have decided to stop shaving, in a conservation effort to lower water usage. The lack of rain is quite literally making things a little hairy. Lord, have mercy; please pray for rain!
There are many things we can and should do to conserve water (including cutting shower time in half with the shaving thing), yet, try as we might, we cannot make it rain. God alone sends the rain. In the same way, God alone is in charge of the work that he is doing through us. We are merely the vessels. And just like we have a responsibility to be careful with our water usage, we also are called to be obedient to him, walking in his ways, and striving to imitate him. But, at the end of the day, he's the one that makes it rain. "As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish… so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It does not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it."(Isaiah 55:10-11) We play our part; but let's let him be God, ok? Even if that means acknowledging that we are weak, and letting him use our weaknesses for his glory…
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
ahh facebook...
Dearly beloved, I must confess, facebook is both a love and a hate of mine.
I mean, where else can you send flowers to, throw a sheep at, or cheer for your friends? And where else can you spend 10 consecutive hours "friending" people, without even talking to them? Where else does a more comprehensive social networking tool (that's not government classified) exist? And yes, those picture sharing moments... priceless. Or, if you prefer the priced version, facebook also provides that for mere dollars and cents...
Yet, you know that facebook has reached a new level, when it teaches you vocabulary words previously used only on the GRE and other graduate equivalent tests.
Case in point: to defenestrate someone via superpoke.
Never before have I met such a large number of people who know what that incredibly complicated and long word means. Why? Simple. Facebook. :-) Redemption? Perhaps.
By the way, to defenestrate, for those non-facebook savvy, means "to throw out a window." Ah yes, facebook, I knew that you had some educational purpose. :-)
I mean, where else can you send flowers to, throw a sheep at, or cheer for your friends? And where else can you spend 10 consecutive hours "friending" people, without even talking to them? Where else does a more comprehensive social networking tool (that's not government classified) exist? And yes, those picture sharing moments... priceless. Or, if you prefer the priced version, facebook also provides that for mere dollars and cents...
Yet, you know that facebook has reached a new level, when it teaches you vocabulary words previously used only on the GRE and other graduate equivalent tests.
Case in point: to defenestrate someone via superpoke.
Never before have I met such a large number of people who know what that incredibly complicated and long word means. Why? Simple. Facebook. :-) Redemption? Perhaps.
By the way, to defenestrate, for those non-facebook savvy, means "to throw out a window." Ah yes, facebook, I knew that you had some educational purpose. :-)
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Life's Storybook
Confession: I am a journal maniac. I have kept journals since I was 9 years old. And I still have them all. One day when I am famous, someone will open my closet and find my entire life story, scrawled across the pages... handwriting changing drastically over the years!
My journal is probably the book that I open the most often. Some days I don't write at all, and others, I write several times. It is small enough to fit inside my purse, unobtrusive enough to take notes in, and perfect for sketching, doodling, pondering, or pouring out my soul. If you flip through the pages you'll see comic book characters, phone numbers, scenic meadows, tear stains, quiet times, and random poems. It is, in a word, my written storybook. And two nights ago, I finished yet another chapter to it, as I scrawled words on the final sheet of this particular journal..
When I was 9 years old, and began journaling, my journal entries looked something like:
"Dear Journal, Today I woke up at 6am and did my math homework. I hate math. I fed my goat and then ate lunch. I had a peanut butter sandwich. I really like ______ (insert name of crush-of-the-week). Jen told me that if it snows in August she will eat a wheat thin. She really does not like them. Love, Kristen."
As I got older, my journal entries became slightly more developed and more legible. For example, this entry from 27 August 2007 using running as a metaphor for a long work in progress:
"It's mile 4. I'm past the halfway marker... but my muscles are aching. My lungs are burning. My feet thud with dull certainty against the pavement. And everything in me screams, just stop. You've come so far... you're far enough... you can finally rest. Relax. Breathe. But I'm running a race, and just to compete... to make it 3/4 of the way... is not enough. I am running to finish the race, because I know the prize that is in front of me. And so, I run on."
Slightly different vocabulary. Slightly more complex analysis and depth of analogy. Still horrible spelling. But the basic jist was the same: I wrote about the people in my life, what I did, what I thought, and how I felt. I told my story. And, unlike in many personal relationships, my journal knows my entire story. It has seen my tears. It has captured my joys. It has felt the burn of my anger. It has reams filled with exclamation points, question marks and celebration. It cannot truly know me; it is an inanimate object, devoid of feelings, emotions or response. Yet, often times, I have trusted it with my soul more often than people around me. Why? Because until your little sister reads your journal out loud to your Sunday afternoon company, your journal cannot speak back. It can't fail you. It cannot let you down by not responding appropriately. It cannot lie to you. It cannot take your trust and hurt or excitement and trash it. And sometimes, it just feels safer.
And please don't misunderstand me. I love my journal. I will continue journaling; I think it's an excellent and healthy place to process thoughts, prayers, emotions, God, men, dreams, etc. But I also think there is a danger of that becoming our only processing ground. In the insulated world that we live in, the majority of our "processing" and even communicating is done in isolation. We talk on the phone while driving in our cars by ourselves. We walk to class with our ipods turned up to full blast. We keep a blog. We chat via instant message and text message. We facebook stalk. The majority of our communication and processing is done devoid of real human interaction. The result of this? Often, we find ourselves not really known. Our story has been edited so many times that there's not much left. The pages are kind of dusty. And we are alone. Lonely. And we miss out on seeing the whole of our story: our focus is so narrow that we leave out many of the characters never letting them enter into the margins.
As I was thinking about this concept of being known, I was struck by how often we allow our friendships to sink to the level of my 9 year old journals. We know all about the other person, but at the end of the day, we fail to really know the person. In the midst of stories and factoids, we miss the person who thinks, feels, and is. We can tell you many things about their daily activities, their GPA, their family, their 7 foot 1 crush (or 5 foot 1), and what they ate for breakfast, but we miss how they're feeling inside, what they aspire to, and who they are sans all activities. We miss the person. In this regard often grown-up journal reading has an edge because people are more inclined to share their inner soul with lined paper and a pen (or a keyboard and cyber space), than with their friends. And this is a myth of "life" that our culture perpetuates in its "individualized" mentality.
So, I have a challenge for both of us.... you and me.
This week, just once, let's trust enough to share our story with a close friend. Be wise; chose someone that you trust, and who is trustworthy. Do it in person, not online or on facebook or via text message. God has given you a wonderful story to tell... one in which the characters are still being added, the plot is still being developed, and the dialogue can be funky often. But it's your story. And I guarantee you, there is someone out there who needs to hear it. Perhaps they're even a character in it. So while story telling on the pages is not a bad thing, don't let it be an excuse for not telling your story to those around you.
Tell your story. It might even surprise you! The narrative is so much bigger than you'll ever know.... and you'll never know until you dare to tell it. :-)
My journal is probably the book that I open the most often. Some days I don't write at all, and others, I write several times. It is small enough to fit inside my purse, unobtrusive enough to take notes in, and perfect for sketching, doodling, pondering, or pouring out my soul. If you flip through the pages you'll see comic book characters, phone numbers, scenic meadows, tear stains, quiet times, and random poems. It is, in a word, my written storybook. And two nights ago, I finished yet another chapter to it, as I scrawled words on the final sheet of this particular journal..
When I was 9 years old, and began journaling, my journal entries looked something like:
"Dear Journal, Today I woke up at 6am and did my math homework. I hate math. I fed my goat and then ate lunch. I had a peanut butter sandwich. I really like ______ (insert name of crush-of-the-week). Jen told me that if it snows in August she will eat a wheat thin. She really does not like them. Love, Kristen."
As I got older, my journal entries became slightly more developed and more legible. For example, this entry from 27 August 2007 using running as a metaphor for a long work in progress:
"It's mile 4. I'm past the halfway marker... but my muscles are aching. My lungs are burning. My feet thud with dull certainty against the pavement. And everything in me screams, just stop. You've come so far... you're far enough... you can finally rest. Relax. Breathe. But I'm running a race, and just to compete... to make it 3/4 of the way... is not enough. I am running to finish the race, because I know the prize that is in front of me. And so, I run on."
Slightly different vocabulary. Slightly more complex analysis and depth of analogy. Still horrible spelling. But the basic jist was the same: I wrote about the people in my life, what I did, what I thought, and how I felt. I told my story. And, unlike in many personal relationships, my journal knows my entire story. It has seen my tears. It has captured my joys. It has felt the burn of my anger. It has reams filled with exclamation points, question marks and celebration. It cannot truly know me; it is an inanimate object, devoid of feelings, emotions or response. Yet, often times, I have trusted it with my soul more often than people around me. Why? Because until your little sister reads your journal out loud to your Sunday afternoon company, your journal cannot speak back. It can't fail you. It cannot let you down by not responding appropriately. It cannot lie to you. It cannot take your trust and hurt or excitement and trash it. And sometimes, it just feels safer.
And please don't misunderstand me. I love my journal. I will continue journaling; I think it's an excellent and healthy place to process thoughts, prayers, emotions, God, men, dreams, etc. But I also think there is a danger of that becoming our only processing ground. In the insulated world that we live in, the majority of our "processing" and even communicating is done in isolation. We talk on the phone while driving in our cars by ourselves. We walk to class with our ipods turned up to full blast. We keep a blog. We chat via instant message and text message. We facebook stalk. The majority of our communication and processing is done devoid of real human interaction. The result of this? Often, we find ourselves not really known. Our story has been edited so many times that there's not much left. The pages are kind of dusty. And we are alone. Lonely. And we miss out on seeing the whole of our story: our focus is so narrow that we leave out many of the characters never letting them enter into the margins.
As I was thinking about this concept of being known, I was struck by how often we allow our friendships to sink to the level of my 9 year old journals. We know all about the other person, but at the end of the day, we fail to really know the person. In the midst of stories and factoids, we miss the person who thinks, feels, and is. We can tell you many things about their daily activities, their GPA, their family, their 7 foot 1 crush (or 5 foot 1), and what they ate for breakfast, but we miss how they're feeling inside, what they aspire to, and who they are sans all activities. We miss the person. In this regard often grown-up journal reading has an edge because people are more inclined to share their inner soul with lined paper and a pen (or a keyboard and cyber space), than with their friends. And this is a myth of "life" that our culture perpetuates in its "individualized" mentality.
So, I have a challenge for both of us.... you and me.
This week, just once, let's trust enough to share our story with a close friend. Be wise; chose someone that you trust, and who is trustworthy. Do it in person, not online or on facebook or via text message. God has given you a wonderful story to tell... one in which the characters are still being added, the plot is still being developed, and the dialogue can be funky often. But it's your story. And I guarantee you, there is someone out there who needs to hear it. Perhaps they're even a character in it. So while story telling on the pages is not a bad thing, don't let it be an excuse for not telling your story to those around you.
Tell your story. It might even surprise you! The narrative is so much bigger than you'll ever know.... and you'll never know until you dare to tell it. :-)
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Zede-who-zi-kiah?
So, as aforementioned, I've been trekking through Jeremiah for my personal devotions this semester (and I would highly recommend it). However, often times, the story line goes something like this:
Jeremiah tells the people what God says.
The people don't listen and don't care that they don't listen.
God does what he says he is going to do.
The people get angry.
Jeremiah gets horrible things done to him.
So yesterday, I rolled into chapters 37-39 and the reign of a new king named Zedekiah. Old Zeke is actually interested in listening to Jeremiah. In fact, he's fascinated with the words that Jeremiah is speaking. He constantly invites Jeremiah to come and talk to him, even pledging to protect Jeremiah's life, on oath before God, in order to hear the words of Lord through Jeremiah. Three times, he entreats Jeremiah to come and speak to him:
Jeremiah 37:3-> "please pray to the Lord our God for us."
Jeremiah 37:16-18 -> "Is there any word from the Lord?"
Jeremiah 38:14 -> "I am going to ask you something... do not hide anything from me."
Repeatedly, Jeremiah tells Zedekiah to surrender to the Babylonians, for the sake of his people, his city, and his life. Every time, Zedekiah listens, and hears the words of the prophet. Yet, and here's the kicker, he does not act on the words of the Lord; he does not accept them as true for himself. Rather, he is merely a consumer of truth, hearing the words of the Lord, but not accepting them as true, or acting on their validity.
How many times do you and I remember having friends who are fascinated with religion or God-talk? Or perhaps that is you or me...
We hang out in Christian community.
We listen to truth constantly, and we like the way that the gospel makes us feel.
We like knowing about God.
We like engaging "spirituality."
We even enjoy the intellectual stimulation of a good hearty debate about Christian moralism in a post-modern society filled with the evils of relativism.
Yet the take-home from Zedekiah is that just hearing the truth is not enough. Engaging it on an intellectual level, surrounding ourselves with those who believe in its veracity, and placating our consciences from their Sunday guilt is not sufficient. Like Zedekiah, we can surround ourselves with religion or spirituality, and still never know truth for ourselves. And at the end of the day, the truth is still the truth, and God's word does not come back empty. In Zedekiah's case, this meant that he watched his sons and nobles be slaughtered before his eyes. Then his own eyes were removed, and he was bound in bronze shackles for the journey to Babylon (Jeremiah 39:6-7). He knew the truth. He had heard it three times. Yet he did not accept it for himself.
The same question applies to us today. Knowing the gospel is not enough. I know several individuals who can give the correct answer to any spiritual question which you would pose. They can quote scripture better than some pastors. Yet they will tell you that they have not been able to accept it for themselves because they are "still searching." It's a step in the right direction, but eventually, they have to chose... Unfortunately, spiritual proximity does not save us. Free will dictates that we have the choice to accept or reject salvation. We are justified by faith... saved by grace, not works... yet we must take the step of faith (literally) and believe for ourselves, accepting the truth of the gospel as true for us personally...
You can know that the medicine will heal your disease, but if you don't take it, you will not get better.
You can believe that you need food, in order to live, but if you don't take the food and eat it, you will not get sustenance.
So Zedekiah found himself lacking sons, nobles, and eyeballs, and carrying very heavy chains to Babylon... He was offered wellness and life. Child of God, you are offered salvation from your sins. But you, like Zedekiah, have a choice to make.... and at the end of the day, just hearing the word is not enough.
Jeremiah tells the people what God says.
The people don't listen and don't care that they don't listen.
God does what he says he is going to do.
The people get angry.
Jeremiah gets horrible things done to him.
So yesterday, I rolled into chapters 37-39 and the reign of a new king named Zedekiah. Old Zeke is actually interested in listening to Jeremiah. In fact, he's fascinated with the words that Jeremiah is speaking. He constantly invites Jeremiah to come and talk to him, even pledging to protect Jeremiah's life, on oath before God, in order to hear the words of Lord through Jeremiah. Three times, he entreats Jeremiah to come and speak to him:
Jeremiah 37:3-> "please pray to the Lord our God for us."
Jeremiah 37:16-18 -> "Is there any word from the Lord?"
Jeremiah 38:14 -> "I am going to ask you something... do not hide anything from me."
Repeatedly, Jeremiah tells Zedekiah to surrender to the Babylonians, for the sake of his people, his city, and his life. Every time, Zedekiah listens, and hears the words of the prophet. Yet, and here's the kicker, he does not act on the words of the Lord; he does not accept them as true for himself. Rather, he is merely a consumer of truth, hearing the words of the Lord, but not accepting them as true, or acting on their validity.
How many times do you and I remember having friends who are fascinated with religion or God-talk? Or perhaps that is you or me...
We hang out in Christian community.
We listen to truth constantly, and we like the way that the gospel makes us feel.
We like knowing about God.
We like engaging "spirituality."
We even enjoy the intellectual stimulation of a good hearty debate about Christian moralism in a post-modern society filled with the evils of relativism.
Yet the take-home from Zedekiah is that just hearing the truth is not enough. Engaging it on an intellectual level, surrounding ourselves with those who believe in its veracity, and placating our consciences from their Sunday guilt is not sufficient. Like Zedekiah, we can surround ourselves with religion or spirituality, and still never know truth for ourselves. And at the end of the day, the truth is still the truth, and God's word does not come back empty. In Zedekiah's case, this meant that he watched his sons and nobles be slaughtered before his eyes. Then his own eyes were removed, and he was bound in bronze shackles for the journey to Babylon (Jeremiah 39:6-7). He knew the truth. He had heard it three times. Yet he did not accept it for himself.
The same question applies to us today. Knowing the gospel is not enough. I know several individuals who can give the correct answer to any spiritual question which you would pose. They can quote scripture better than some pastors. Yet they will tell you that they have not been able to accept it for themselves because they are "still searching." It's a step in the right direction, but eventually, they have to chose... Unfortunately, spiritual proximity does not save us. Free will dictates that we have the choice to accept or reject salvation. We are justified by faith... saved by grace, not works... yet we must take the step of faith (literally) and believe for ourselves, accepting the truth of the gospel as true for us personally...
You can know that the medicine will heal your disease, but if you don't take it, you will not get better.
You can believe that you need food, in order to live, but if you don't take the food and eat it, you will not get sustenance.
So Zedekiah found himself lacking sons, nobles, and eyeballs, and carrying very heavy chains to Babylon... He was offered wellness and life. Child of God, you are offered salvation from your sins. But you, like Zedekiah, have a choice to make.... and at the end of the day, just hearing the word is not enough.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Horticulture, revisited
I have been ruminating on the horticulture illustration, about which I wrote not too long ago. So, a slightly different take, this time around:
In the art of horticulture, the grafted branch is chosen for its ability to bear fruit. To dig deep, and produce good fruit, according to its purpose. But its roots are weak. And so, it is torn from its old environment, and spliced into the new. And then, as it grows, it is often transplanted or pruned, so that it will produce the best possible fruit.
Sometimes, I wonder if the branch (like, oh say, me) complains. It's not comfortable. It feels out of place. It's not like the other branches on the tree. It doesn't feel like it's producing as much fruit as before. Pruning hurts. And it has to be utterly and completely dependent on the root.
This past Thursday was a melting point for me. I had barely made it out the door before the tears began to flow. Before I left Winston-Salem, one of my advocates at Redeemer prayed that I would get lost at Chapel Hill, so that I would be forced to ask for directions. Well, Thursday night, I felt lost. Alone. Empty. And not able to do much at all. All the doubts, worries, and insecurities were overwhelming. And the voices in my head accusing me would not be quiet. I felt like a branch severed from its comfort zone, out of place, and barren.
Yet the branch is not bound to the root nor pruned for the purpose of the pain, although that is involved; not because it cannot bear fruit, because it naturally has the ability to bear fruit. Rather, it is re-planted, pruned, and transplanted because the good gardener knows that the branch will produce far richer, better fruit, when it is rooted solidly in good soil and well-pruned. When it has to depend on the good root for its sustenance and nutrients. This is completely counter-intuitive to our culture, which teaches self-sufficiency, independence, and isolation. The branch has to be dependent, otherwise, it will wither and die. Pruning always takes the branch back to the root and the tree, as the parts closest to the sustenance are the most healthy. For Christians, the analogy is much the same. We have to be dependent, both on God (the vine and the gardener) and on the body (the rest of the tree), or we too will wither and die. Our own strength is not enough to sustain us. And the old root never did.
So, when I got home on Thursday, I called a good friend, who knows me well, and loves me despite my weaknesses. Speaking truth in love, she reminded me of who I am in Christ. She reminded me that I am weak. I am unable. And I was looking to myself to be all, do all, and, as the frosting on the cake, make everyone think that I was cool. And I was failing. I was depending on myself, and looking to others for my worth. Yet, she also reminded me of the strength of the root, the wisdom of the gardener, and my own need to depend upon the vine. The truth of the matter is, I am created in the image of God; my worth is defined by him. And yes, I will fail on my own strength. But His strength is enough. The root is strong and dependable, and when we rely on it, we will grow. The old root is dying. Self-sufficiency will get us nowhere. And while the transplant is hard, and does not feel all pretty, warm, and fuzzy, the gardener knows what He is doing.
The first transplant which we undergo is being grafting into the vine, joining God's family. Yet as the years progress, he again and again calls us to trust Him, drinking deeply from the root, as he replants us, challenges us, and prunes us for our good and his glory. Always, we are called to depend on the good root, bearing fruit as a result of His nutrients.
Yet for the sake of growth, for the sake of better, for the sake of glory, sometimes the Gardener makes the cut, and takes the branch out of its comfort zone, into a new, strange environment. And while it hurts, and it takes time for the branch to bear fruit, the Gardener knows what he is doing. He is preparing for the feast. He is taking ordinary fruit and transforming it into a one of a kind masterpiece which only He could dream up.
Solidly rooted, deeply grown, sweet, beautiful, magnificent, and far better than that grown in the backyard orchard. For the sake of glory, we endure the pain and discomfort of transplantation, because ultimately, we know that the Gardener is for us. And He knows what He is doing.
In the art of horticulture, the grafted branch is chosen for its ability to bear fruit. To dig deep, and produce good fruit, according to its purpose. But its roots are weak. And so, it is torn from its old environment, and spliced into the new. And then, as it grows, it is often transplanted or pruned, so that it will produce the best possible fruit.
Sometimes, I wonder if the branch (like, oh say, me) complains. It's not comfortable. It feels out of place. It's not like the other branches on the tree. It doesn't feel like it's producing as much fruit as before. Pruning hurts. And it has to be utterly and completely dependent on the root.
This past Thursday was a melting point for me. I had barely made it out the door before the tears began to flow. Before I left Winston-Salem, one of my advocates at Redeemer prayed that I would get lost at Chapel Hill, so that I would be forced to ask for directions. Well, Thursday night, I felt lost. Alone. Empty. And not able to do much at all. All the doubts, worries, and insecurities were overwhelming. And the voices in my head accusing me would not be quiet. I felt like a branch severed from its comfort zone, out of place, and barren.
Yet the branch is not bound to the root nor pruned for the purpose of the pain, although that is involved; not because it cannot bear fruit, because it naturally has the ability to bear fruit. Rather, it is re-planted, pruned, and transplanted because the good gardener knows that the branch will produce far richer, better fruit, when it is rooted solidly in good soil and well-pruned. When it has to depend on the good root for its sustenance and nutrients. This is completely counter-intuitive to our culture, which teaches self-sufficiency, independence, and isolation. The branch has to be dependent, otherwise, it will wither and die. Pruning always takes the branch back to the root and the tree, as the parts closest to the sustenance are the most healthy. For Christians, the analogy is much the same. We have to be dependent, both on God (the vine and the gardener) and on the body (the rest of the tree), or we too will wither and die. Our own strength is not enough to sustain us. And the old root never did.
So, when I got home on Thursday, I called a good friend, who knows me well, and loves me despite my weaknesses. Speaking truth in love, she reminded me of who I am in Christ. She reminded me that I am weak. I am unable. And I was looking to myself to be all, do all, and, as the frosting on the cake, make everyone think that I was cool. And I was failing. I was depending on myself, and looking to others for my worth. Yet, she also reminded me of the strength of the root, the wisdom of the gardener, and my own need to depend upon the vine. The truth of the matter is, I am created in the image of God; my worth is defined by him. And yes, I will fail on my own strength. But His strength is enough. The root is strong and dependable, and when we rely on it, we will grow. The old root is dying. Self-sufficiency will get us nowhere. And while the transplant is hard, and does not feel all pretty, warm, and fuzzy, the gardener knows what He is doing.
The first transplant which we undergo is being grafting into the vine, joining God's family. Yet as the years progress, he again and again calls us to trust Him, drinking deeply from the root, as he replants us, challenges us, and prunes us for our good and his glory. Always, we are called to depend on the good root, bearing fruit as a result of His nutrients.
Yet for the sake of growth, for the sake of better, for the sake of glory, sometimes the Gardener makes the cut, and takes the branch out of its comfort zone, into a new, strange environment. And while it hurts, and it takes time for the branch to bear fruit, the Gardener knows what he is doing. He is preparing for the feast. He is taking ordinary fruit and transforming it into a one of a kind masterpiece which only He could dream up.
Solidly rooted, deeply grown, sweet, beautiful, magnificent, and far better than that grown in the backyard orchard. For the sake of glory, we endure the pain and discomfort of transplantation, because ultimately, we know that the Gardener is for us. And He knows what He is doing.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
The gift of coffee
Gentle reader, if you are not already sitting down, I think this might be a timely occasion to take said precautions and seat yourself. Are you prepared for the shock which is about to envelop this room?
Today has been a day of monumental occasion. This morning, when I woke up, I did not start the coffee. Nor did I grab my trusty coffee mug on the way out the door. Nor did I stop in Alpine or Daily Grind to refuel my trusty coffee mug. Nor did I get coffee in Panera (although it would have completed my bagel and cheese perfectly). No, dear friend, for the first time in almost a year and a half, I have had a day completely devoid of coffee. And let me tell you, it has certainly changed my life.
... I couldn't ask students if they wanted to go grab a cup of coffee. And "Would you like to grab a mug of milk?" just doesn't have the same ring to it.
... I found it hard to fully appreciate Panera, without the lovely free refills of delicious coffee constantly reminding me of my gratitude.
... I couldn't ask a friend to go grab coffee with me after dinner, because oh wait, I wasn't drinking coffee.
... and I took a nap on my kitchen floor around 4pm when the lack of caffeine kicked in.
But, all in all, I must say, this experimental separation from my beloved beverage merely made me miss it deeply, appreciate it more, and look for external sources of entertainment and ways of keeping myself awake. In exchange for the rooty-tooty richness of my cup of joe, I:
-- saw a fire engine do a three point turn in the middle of Franklin street. Classy.
-- learned that when you eat goat cheese and pass gas, it smells like a goat.
-- had a letter k made out of a straw as a present for me.
-- had an excuse to take a nap in the middle of the day.
But in seriousness, sometimes it is necessary to take good things in our lives and put them once again into prospective. As I took a day away from coffee, I noticed how much of my day depends on and centers around that love. Coffee is not in and of itself a bad thing, but it does have the potential to gain more prominence in my life than it should. Any good thing in our lives has that potential: food, drink, friends, sex, music, shopping, etc. But Jesus is the only one who can rule our lives. Coffee, or my dependence on it, should not even be close. Our good gifts, loves, and passions, should never replace our love for our Savior, our dependence on Him, and His prominence in our lives.
I don't know what those items are in your lives... but if you find yourself relying upon anything to the degree that you "can't live without it," I would urge you to put it in perspective. Take a day, week, month, hour away. It's a good thing to have passions and pleasures, and a plow to which we can lay a shoulder gladly. But those gifts of God should never never be given more time, weight, importance, or love than He receives. And if that means that we have to take a step back, in order to more fully appreciate the God and the gift, then I think that is the bean of choice...
So, Java Joe, you are my sweet love. But dearest love, my life does not rely on your rich aroma. And as a reminder of that fact, sometimes it is necessary that I lay aside what I love, so that I can keep perspective on what is truly the most important in life.
Today has been a day of monumental occasion. This morning, when I woke up, I did not start the coffee. Nor did I grab my trusty coffee mug on the way out the door. Nor did I stop in Alpine or Daily Grind to refuel my trusty coffee mug. Nor did I get coffee in Panera (although it would have completed my bagel and cheese perfectly). No, dear friend, for the first time in almost a year and a half, I have had a day completely devoid of coffee. And let me tell you, it has certainly changed my life.
... I couldn't ask students if they wanted to go grab a cup of coffee. And "Would you like to grab a mug of milk?" just doesn't have the same ring to it.
... I found it hard to fully appreciate Panera, without the lovely free refills of delicious coffee constantly reminding me of my gratitude.
... I couldn't ask a friend to go grab coffee with me after dinner, because oh wait, I wasn't drinking coffee.
... and I took a nap on my kitchen floor around 4pm when the lack of caffeine kicked in.
But, all in all, I must say, this experimental separation from my beloved beverage merely made me miss it deeply, appreciate it more, and look for external sources of entertainment and ways of keeping myself awake. In exchange for the rooty-tooty richness of my cup of joe, I:
-- saw a fire engine do a three point turn in the middle of Franklin street. Classy.
-- learned that when you eat goat cheese and pass gas, it smells like a goat.
-- had a letter k made out of a straw as a present for me.
-- had an excuse to take a nap in the middle of the day.
But in seriousness, sometimes it is necessary to take good things in our lives and put them once again into prospective. As I took a day away from coffee, I noticed how much of my day depends on and centers around that love. Coffee is not in and of itself a bad thing, but it does have the potential to gain more prominence in my life than it should. Any good thing in our lives has that potential: food, drink, friends, sex, music, shopping, etc. But Jesus is the only one who can rule our lives. Coffee, or my dependence on it, should not even be close. Our good gifts, loves, and passions, should never replace our love for our Savior, our dependence on Him, and His prominence in our lives.
I don't know what those items are in your lives... but if you find yourself relying upon anything to the degree that you "can't live without it," I would urge you to put it in perspective. Take a day, week, month, hour away. It's a good thing to have passions and pleasures, and a plow to which we can lay a shoulder gladly. But those gifts of God should never never be given more time, weight, importance, or love than He receives. And if that means that we have to take a step back, in order to more fully appreciate the God and the gift, then I think that is the bean of choice...
So, Java Joe, you are my sweet love. But dearest love, my life does not rely on your rich aroma. And as a reminder of that fact, sometimes it is necessary that I lay aside what I love, so that I can keep perspective on what is truly the most important in life.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
A Lesson in Horticulture
So one weekend this summer, I was hanging out at my aunt and uncle's house for an afternoon. They live on a small farm, and grow a wide variety of vegetables and fruits. Our typical routine involves taking a quick spin around the garden and orchard before we head instead to eat a meal rich with the produce of those two respective plots. On this particular visit, the lesson of the day was on grafting apple trees...
For those like me, unfamiliar with the process, Grafting is the process of taking a shoot from one plant (typically one designed for bearing fruit) and attaching it to another plant (typically one that has sturdy roots). To do this, first you cut the branch which you want to transplant from its source. Then, you cut a cleft in the tree or bush that serves as the root. Inserting the shoot into the cleft, you then bind the "wound" tightly, so that the shoot does not fall out, and so that the nutrients of the tree can be transported to the shoot. As the "wound" heals, the vascular structure and tissues of the two merge, and become one. The nutrients of the tree will then be transported to the shoot. The wound, while completely healed, is visibly evident in the large knob which forms around the graft, where the shoot was literally bound into the root.
The metaphor of the vine and the branches, and the grafting process is used numerous times throughout scripture, as a form of illustration of our relationship with God: He as the vine, we as the branches, which are grafted into his family. As I visited with my aunt and uncle, the visual example of grafting made me look at the metaphor in a slightly different light... My lesson in horticulture struck me with three new realizations:
Lesson number 1: The branches depend on the root for life. The root does not need the branches in order to be sustained. God's work, already begun, does not perish without the in graft of new branches. The root provides the structure, the nutrients, and the means for growth. Without the root, the branch dies. The role of the branch is to produce fruit. This is its only role. It is also the role for which the branch is designed, but it is only completed and made good when the branch is joined to the tree. Romans 11:17-18 tells us as Christians likewise,
"If some of the branches have been broken off, and, you, though a wild olive shoot, have been grafted in among the others and now share in the nourishing sap from the olive root, do not boast over those branches. If you do, consider this: You do not support the root, but the root supports you."
Again, John 15:5 Jesus tells us, "I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."
Lesson number 2: The branches grafted into the new root must be completely separated from their old root. They cannot be joined to and sustained by both the old and the new. If you try and splice a branch to two roots, the branch will die, because the raw wound will not be fully healed as it is bound to the tree. The nutrients will "leak out" and not produce good fruit. The roots determine the growth of the branch. If you are united to both the world and Christ, you will not grow. You cannot be rooted in both kingdoms. Romans 6:5-6 tells us,
"For when we were controlled by the sinful nature, the sinful passions aroused by the law were at work in our bodies, so that we bore fruit for death. But now, by dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new ways of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code."
Lesson number 3: The result of the graft is visibly evident in the construct of the branch. At first the graft is most visible in the knob, uniting the branch and the vine. As the months and years progress, the graft is visible in the fruit, as the fruit shows evidence of the fruit. While the branch maintains many of the attributes of its making, over the years, it begins to look more and more like the root. The knob of its graft is still visible, but many years down the road, when the tree is fully mature, the branch begins to look more and more like the tree. Yet the knob remains, as a reminder that the branch was grafted in and remains dependent on the root.
So to with Christians. We grow more and more like the root into which we are planted. If that is the world, then our fruit demonstrates our root. If into Christ, then we are daily being transformed into His likeness. While our sinful nature remains as evidence of our graft (the knob), we anticipate when we will be without the knob, devoid of sinful nature, enveloped in God's glory, always bearing fruit to the glory of God. Revelations 22:2 tells us of the tree of life, which is "..bearing fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse."
This is what we hope for.... and what we were made for. The purpose of the branch is to bear fruit, to the glory of God. We are grafted into a good root. Let us bear fruit as such...
Monday, October 8, 2007
Chosen Stones
the silent stones of heartbeat and heartache
of buried dreams and burning passions
veiled behind the shadow of sensibility,
each stone a mountain transplanted
from gathering dust, death and dirt
to grow as a foundation, small
to fortress tall.
does it grow beneath your lowered lids
or does it fall?
does the mountain's majesty in
miniature form find freedom to
point heavenward, as it was designed?
or dust unto dust, to death
does it return?
a mountainous heap of rubble,
under the guise of dream.
image bearer, dreamer of dreams:
designed.
molded.
breathed.
eloquence incarnate,
majesty in mere flesh,
reflected in us.
and so we breathe, create, design,
dream.
images. form. beautiful.
each stone properly placed
forms
a path of hewn and hammered
stone, carefully captured,
leading you, me, we
into the heart of God.
walk with me, brother,
sister, friend,
let us go together into the heart of God.
*KG 19 September 2007
Monday, October 1, 2007
What is it that you do?
An InterVarsity staff worker’s primary task is to invite to students into intimate relationship with God and His church, His bride. Inherent within that task are the gerund responsibilities of
Knowing and Engaging: being familiar with the campus and students and their strengths, weaknesses, character, and needs. Not only knowing the campus, but actively seeking out ways to engage the campus through its own culture.
Translating: taking the gospel to the campus in a language that it can understand and relate to, without sacrificing or soft-peddling gospel truth. This involves careful listening, quality communication, and cross-cultural sensitivities, all the while connecting the gospel truth.
Inviting: constantly working to extend the kingdom through invitation and action.
Teaching: passing on words of truth to the students; increasing their knowledge of the kingdom through words and example.
Guiding: leading the students in Christian living, both through words, discipleship, and example. Most importantly, this involves walking with students in their lives. Again, the metaphor of the shepherd’s staff is applicable, as sometimes guiding pressure is laid on the sheep to direct it in the way in which it should go.
Affirming: welcoming the wanderers back into the fold, affirming the gifts and callings of the flock, loving the sheep, and reminding students of their identity in the fold.
Challenging: refusing to let the flock wallow in fallow or well-worn ground. Calling them to grow in their relationships with each other and with God. Making sure that they are connected to the church body.
Exemplifying: demonstrating Christian leadership, including in our weaknesses and failures. Being transparent in our dependence on Christ for our salvation and for grace to live the lives to which we are called. Living out community.
Training: equipping student leaders to be effective members of the body, the church, and effective witnesses in their spheres, whatever those are or will be.
Praying: constantly interceding for transformation of the campus, the students, and the faculty.
Hoping and Expecting: seeing the campus and students with kingdom vision. Believing that God can and will do mighty things and dreaming of how things can and will eventually be.
While all of these are elements of the role of an InterVarsity staff member, none of them are achieved every day by any of us. If the Shepherd is not present, then the staff does very little good. My job title as InterVarsity staff member can be boiled down to seeing the campus with Jesus’ eyes and loving it as he does; speaking the gospel in a language that students can hear and understand; sharing my life with students, sinful as it is, in confidence of God’s grace reflected through me; pointing to the cross; and challenging the body to grow kingdom-bound. I am a staff in the hands of the shepherd. My task is to invite children of the King into the banquet feast, in fellowship with God and each other, and to provide directions and guidance on how to get there.
**excerpts from a paper which I recently had to write.
Knowing and Engaging: being familiar with the campus and students and their strengths, weaknesses, character, and needs. Not only knowing the campus, but actively seeking out ways to engage the campus through its own culture.
Translating: taking the gospel to the campus in a language that it can understand and relate to, without sacrificing or soft-peddling gospel truth. This involves careful listening, quality communication, and cross-cultural sensitivities, all the while connecting the gospel truth.
Inviting: constantly working to extend the kingdom through invitation and action.
Teaching: passing on words of truth to the students; increasing their knowledge of the kingdom through words and example.
Guiding: leading the students in Christian living, both through words, discipleship, and example. Most importantly, this involves walking with students in their lives. Again, the metaphor of the shepherd’s staff is applicable, as sometimes guiding pressure is laid on the sheep to direct it in the way in which it should go.
Affirming: welcoming the wanderers back into the fold, affirming the gifts and callings of the flock, loving the sheep, and reminding students of their identity in the fold.
Challenging: refusing to let the flock wallow in fallow or well-worn ground. Calling them to grow in their relationships with each other and with God. Making sure that they are connected to the church body.
Exemplifying: demonstrating Christian leadership, including in our weaknesses and failures. Being transparent in our dependence on Christ for our salvation and for grace to live the lives to which we are called. Living out community.
Training: equipping student leaders to be effective members of the body, the church, and effective witnesses in their spheres, whatever those are or will be.
Praying: constantly interceding for transformation of the campus, the students, and the faculty.
Hoping and Expecting: seeing the campus and students with kingdom vision. Believing that God can and will do mighty things and dreaming of how things can and will eventually be.
While all of these are elements of the role of an InterVarsity staff member, none of them are achieved every day by any of us. If the Shepherd is not present, then the staff does very little good. My job title as InterVarsity staff member can be boiled down to seeing the campus with Jesus’ eyes and loving it as he does; speaking the gospel in a language that students can hear and understand; sharing my life with students, sinful as it is, in confidence of God’s grace reflected through me; pointing to the cross; and challenging the body to grow kingdom-bound. I am a staff in the hands of the shepherd. My task is to invite children of the King into the banquet feast, in fellowship with God and each other, and to provide directions and guidance on how to get there.
**excerpts from a paper which I recently had to write.
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