"A long time ago, there was a very real man named Jesus, who was also really God, but for many years, he lived on this earth with people like you and me, and was a real live person like you and me... except that unlike you and me, he never, ever did anything bad or wrong. All of his life, he was kind and good and caring and faithful and obedient. But there were people who didn't like him and they wanted to kill him."
I'm telling the Easter story to a group of children, some of whom have heard it many times before and others of whom have never heard it at all.
"Have you ever had a friend or someone who said they loved you, but then they did something that hurt you or made you sad?" Most of the heads nod. "Jesus had friends like that, too. One of them, Judas, wanted to get some money, so he went and told the men who wanted to kill Jesus exactly where they could find him. Jesus knows what it's like to have friends who turn their back on you and hurt you.
"Or has anyone ever made fun of you?" More nodding. "Before the people went to have Jesus killed, they mocked him and teased him because he said he was the King. And even though he really was the King, they thought it was ridiculous, so they made him wear a pretend robe and put a crown--only it was made of thorns--on his head and made him march in front of all the townspeople. Jesus knows what it's like to have people laugh at you, even when you're not doing anything wrong."
One little boy, very concerned, pipes up. "But is Jesus dead now?"
"Hold on," I say. "We're not done with the story... So the soldiers took Jesus and they put him up on a cross. Do you know what a cross is?"
The kids who have heard this story before all say, "Yes." Among the kids who haven't, there is some confusion until I describe it a little and one of them says, "Is that like in Pirates of the Caribbean where those guys are hanging in the background?"
Um, possibly. I have yet to be able to sit through that film. But on I go to describe what happens next. The kids who are familiar with Good Friday don't bat an eye. But I am becoming acutely aware, as I briefly and without great detail reference the nails, the spear, the blood, the agony, that this story is hitting the new kids differently. I am beginning to realize just how horrid this story is. There is no G rating on the Easter narrative. When Jesus finally dies, a girl says, "Do I have to keep listening? This story is scary. And sad." Yes, dear, yes it is.
I have heard the story of Easter countless times. I have told it over and over again. But it's not often that I've been so aware of the darkness of the cross. Rarely have I really felt the confusion over this act of violence against God, against a good man, against a man who understands our deepest griefs and carries our sorrows. And never before have I felt such joyful relief as I arrive at the part of the story when I get to tell the kids that the tomb was EMPTY. That this man who died for our sins though he was sinless, this man who really and truly sympathizes with our pain and weakness, is no longer dead. He was dead, but he is not dead now. He is very much alive and his righteousness is very much ours who believe in His name!
Year after year, month after month, day after day, we reference the cross and the empty tomb. We hear it in sermons, we read it in books, we tell it amongst ourselves. And it can become stale. We can be like the kids who've heard this one a thousand times. Oh yes, Easter. When we celebrate how Jesus died on the cross and rose again. Wait. What?!
I don't want to lose the childlike view of the agonizing old rugged cross, nor the childlike wonder at the resurrection. I want more opportunities to see the story of Easter through the lens of a person who has never heard such a story before, through a child who sees the darkness of it and can't help but jump for joy at the ending (which is really a new beginning). And while I can't ever hear it again for the first time in reality, maybe my own ears can hear it in a fresh way if I keep telling it to those who haven't yet heard.
Showing posts with label Evangelism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Evangelism. Show all posts
Monday, May 05, 2014
Wednesday, November 06, 2013
Achieving Eternity (Meditations on Ecclesiastes)
Do you want to live forever? Regardless of whether you believe it is possible or not, most of us live our lives in pursuit of this goal. We do our best at our work, we strive to realize our dreams, we do great things, we try to make the world a better place, we want to be good friends or good parents... And while we do these things in part because it makes us happy, most of us would have to honestly say that we also do them because we want our achievements, our memory, our good works, our descendants to live on after us. We seek eternity by means of works that will last long after we are gone. We may be dead and in the ground, but our memory will live on in the hearts of those that knew us or benefit from the things we accomplished.
Ecclesiastes is a book about seeking eternity. Though it only mentions the word once, the idea is present in virtually every chapter of the book. Its characters, including its author, are people who seek wisdom and knowledge, or who build great architectural edifices, or who attain high political offices, or who are very religious and want to do great things for God. Some of them are incredibly innovative. Others have large families given to them to care for. There are men and women, kings and lay people, young people and old people, wise people and foolish people, wealthy nobility and the humble poor. And the vast majority of them are seeking eternity by means of a life well-lived, whatever that may mean to each of them. Sound like any world you know?
Of course, this is also no surprise, because Ecclesiastes tells us that God "has put eternity into man's heart". We are created with a desire for immortality imprinted on our very being. Elsewhere in the Bible, we are told that man was made to live forever. But he has been thwarted by sin and is now universally condemned to death. We who are made with eternity in our hearts now have a 100% chance of dying. But this death sentence does not stop us from seeking the immortality we should have had. You will rarely meet a person who could care less about how they will be remembered. Even those who do great evil are often seeking a name for themselves. Better to be infamous for the rest of human history for some terrible deed than to lie forgotten in an unmarked grave with the vast majority of the human race.
The problem with achieving eternity via long-standing accomplishments (however noble) or via a good name is that we have no guarantee that anything we do in this life will outlive us. You can spend your days toiling to build up your business and have no guarantee that the person who takes over after you won't run it into the ground. You can be a mother who pours her life into her children, giving them every chance at success, teaching them with all wisdom and insight to live a life of godliness and you have no guarantee that they will live on after you as godly, successful people. You can't even guarantee that they will outlive you! And even if we could guarantee good results, "there is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to be among those who come after." So, "what does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?" (Eccl. 1:2, 11). Death comes for us all (another prominent theme in Ecclesiastes), and regardless of what we have done or how often our name is mentioned 500 years from now, we will be forgotten. Think about the handful of names you know from history (out of the billions who have ever lived), and then think about how much deconstruction, reconstruction, reanalysis and "new discoveries!" are part of our knowledge about history. We don't even know those people for who they really, really were.
No, we have no hope of achieving immortality for ourselves, no matter how hard we try. We who are made with eternity in our hearts are doomed to be lost and forgotten to the running sands of time. BUT, "whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it" (Eccl. 3:14). God who put eternity in our hearts also only does that which lasts forever. This means that the only way we will ever live on forever is through participating in God's enduring work. And he invites us into it! In fact, he offers us an exchange: he will take our broken, half-hearted, mediocre, forgettable work, as well as the best, most pleasing achievements we have to offer (which are still just as perishable as we are); and in its place, he will give us the perfect, everlasting, finished work of his son, Jesus. When we admit that we cannot make eternity for ourselves, and instead put all our trust and hope in God's finished and enduring work at the cross of Jesus, then, and only then, do we gain unending life. "And this is eternal life, that they may know you the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent." (John 17:3)
This may mean that we live a life that will be forgotten by mankind. It may mean living in a way that doesn't seem very successful to others, and even at many times to ourselves. But it is our only sure hope for eternity, and that makes it a life worth living.
Ecclesiastes is a book about seeking eternity. Though it only mentions the word once, the idea is present in virtually every chapter of the book. Its characters, including its author, are people who seek wisdom and knowledge, or who build great architectural edifices, or who attain high political offices, or who are very religious and want to do great things for God. Some of them are incredibly innovative. Others have large families given to them to care for. There are men and women, kings and lay people, young people and old people, wise people and foolish people, wealthy nobility and the humble poor. And the vast majority of them are seeking eternity by means of a life well-lived, whatever that may mean to each of them. Sound like any world you know?
Of course, this is also no surprise, because Ecclesiastes tells us that God "has put eternity into man's heart". We are created with a desire for immortality imprinted on our very being. Elsewhere in the Bible, we are told that man was made to live forever. But he has been thwarted by sin and is now universally condemned to death. We who are made with eternity in our hearts now have a 100% chance of dying. But this death sentence does not stop us from seeking the immortality we should have had. You will rarely meet a person who could care less about how they will be remembered. Even those who do great evil are often seeking a name for themselves. Better to be infamous for the rest of human history for some terrible deed than to lie forgotten in an unmarked grave with the vast majority of the human race.
The problem with achieving eternity via long-standing accomplishments (however noble) or via a good name is that we have no guarantee that anything we do in this life will outlive us. You can spend your days toiling to build up your business and have no guarantee that the person who takes over after you won't run it into the ground. You can be a mother who pours her life into her children, giving them every chance at success, teaching them with all wisdom and insight to live a life of godliness and you have no guarantee that they will live on after you as godly, successful people. You can't even guarantee that they will outlive you! And even if we could guarantee good results, "there is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to be among those who come after." So, "what does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?" (Eccl. 1:2, 11). Death comes for us all (another prominent theme in Ecclesiastes), and regardless of what we have done or how often our name is mentioned 500 years from now, we will be forgotten. Think about the handful of names you know from history (out of the billions who have ever lived), and then think about how much deconstruction, reconstruction, reanalysis and "new discoveries!" are part of our knowledge about history. We don't even know those people for who they really, really were.
No, we have no hope of achieving immortality for ourselves, no matter how hard we try. We who are made with eternity in our hearts are doomed to be lost and forgotten to the running sands of time. BUT, "whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it" (Eccl. 3:14). God who put eternity in our hearts also only does that which lasts forever. This means that the only way we will ever live on forever is through participating in God's enduring work. And he invites us into it! In fact, he offers us an exchange: he will take our broken, half-hearted, mediocre, forgettable work, as well as the best, most pleasing achievements we have to offer (which are still just as perishable as we are); and in its place, he will give us the perfect, everlasting, finished work of his son, Jesus. When we admit that we cannot make eternity for ourselves, and instead put all our trust and hope in God's finished and enduring work at the cross of Jesus, then, and only then, do we gain unending life. "And this is eternal life, that they may know you the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent." (John 17:3)
This may mean that we live a life that will be forgotten by mankind. It may mean living in a way that doesn't seem very successful to others, and even at many times to ourselves. But it is our only sure hope for eternity, and that makes it a life worth living.
Wednesday, July 03, 2013
Deceived By My Personality Profile?
"You have such a quiet and gentle spirit! I wish it came that naturally to me!"
I can't tell you how many times I've heard that statement, or something like it, in some small group discussion of I Peter 3. And there was a time when I believed it myself. But there came a point, several years back, when I realized that actually, I only have a quiet and gentle exterior. The frequent state of my inner spirit tells an entirely different story.
We have come to accept certain ideas about different personalities, often based on what we observe from the outside, or on what others observe from the outside and tell us about ourselves. Introverts are good listeners, studious, insightful, good writers, hate public speaking, love to serve in the background, but hate change. Extroverts love people, get a rush out of performing in front of a large crowd, make great evangelists, always know what to say, will talk to any stranger without fear, and are up for any adventure at a moment's notice.
Really?
I'm sure there are some people who fit these stereotypes to a T. But I'm not one of them, and neither is my extroverted husband, nor, to tell the truth, anyone else I know personally. Unfortunately, though, we often view ourselves (and others) according to these respective lists, and fail to see areas both of needed growth, and of unexpected strength.
Take listening, for example. I fall into a pretty classic introvert form: quiet (unless I'm with my sisters), studious, shake when I have to talk to a large group, love time alone with a good book. So I must be a good listener, because all introverts are, right? Also, plenty of people have told me that I am, so there's further confirmation. But what is this observation based on? That my mouth stays shut while others are talking? That I nod my head in the right places? Even that I might have a good observation to make at the end? These things may all be true, but if you could see what is often really going on in my head when I'm "listening", it's not so flattering. I can be perfectly quiet, nodding my head in time... and halfway to another galaxy. Or I might be quietly analyzing your first sentence and trying to figure out how to respond, missing pretty much everything else in the course of my analysis. And then there are the times that I hear every word, but just don't like what you say, and won't plan on taking it into account when I have to make that decision. Good listener, eh?
Or take that passage in I Peter 3. It's true that I'm quiet and usually gentle on the outside. But a quiet and gentle spirit is one that does not fear anything that is frightening, that submits peacefully to God's authority and providence. And far too often, beneath my quiet exterior roll waves of anxiety, stress, distraction, frustration and discontentment! No, truth be told, I have a lot of growing to do in listening and heart-quieting!
On the upside though, despite the fact that I'm supposed to love peace and quiet and a little nook away from people, I've discovered that I really love being around people, meeting new people (though I may feel awkward doing it), and taking big risks, as long as I get to take them with others I love. Maybe since I'm an introvert, I should hate living in a condo community with 5,000 of my closest friends, but in reality, I love living here, and find all the people energizing.
I'm not just picking on the introvert stereotype, either. Extroverts have their own hidden struggles and strengths. Just because you like to be around people and talk to them doesn't mean that talking boldly about the gospel with others is second-nature to you. In fact, if you derive energy from pleasant, affirming social interactions, evangelism for you may well require the same amount of effort and Spirit-given power that an introvert needs for the same task. You may love to be around people, but have a very hard time actually LOVING them. Public speaking may still give you butterflies. But on the other hand, just because you are extroverted doesn't mean you can't be skilled at really listening to people and giving them wise counsel. You can be an extroverted prayer warrior, or an extrovert who thinks very deeply about God's word (or both!).
The simple fact is that God has made us much more than binary creatures, either-ors who function in a black and white world with predictable everything. To begin with, we are all sinful, and manage to fight God's standards even in places where, in theory, we should be the most agreeable. Then, we have complicated mental processes, backgrounds, experiences and personality conglomerations that keep us from matching the stereotype and cause us to make decisions and react to things in ways that make sense only to ourselves (if that!). But it's also true that the God who created amazing galaxies yet unknown to us, an insect world that where new species are still being discovered regularly, and natural mechanisms even the most brilliant scientists have yet to reduce to a simple equation is the God who creates human beings in his own image--not exactly mundane or dichromatic--and calls us each to reflect his glorious diversity in our own unique way as we work together with other unique individuals to form the body of Christ.
It takes humility to admit that an extrovert might be able to teach me how to listen. It may not be easy for an extrovert to go to a godly introvert for encouragement in evangelism. But I don't just want to be a classic introvert. I want to be like Jesus. And that takes consistent growth in ALL areas of my life, the encouragement and admonishment of even the most "unlikely" people, and the eye-opening grace of the Holy Spirit to see my sin for what it is--"positive" exterior actions aside--and to see areas where I've been given strengths outside my "profile" that I can use to build up the body of Christ.
Where are you missing your sin or God's grace in your life because of a label you've been given?
I can't tell you how many times I've heard that statement, or something like it, in some small group discussion of I Peter 3. And there was a time when I believed it myself. But there came a point, several years back, when I realized that actually, I only have a quiet and gentle exterior. The frequent state of my inner spirit tells an entirely different story.
We have come to accept certain ideas about different personalities, often based on what we observe from the outside, or on what others observe from the outside and tell us about ourselves. Introverts are good listeners, studious, insightful, good writers, hate public speaking, love to serve in the background, but hate change. Extroverts love people, get a rush out of performing in front of a large crowd, make great evangelists, always know what to say, will talk to any stranger without fear, and are up for any adventure at a moment's notice.
Really?
I'm sure there are some people who fit these stereotypes to a T. But I'm not one of them, and neither is my extroverted husband, nor, to tell the truth, anyone else I know personally. Unfortunately, though, we often view ourselves (and others) according to these respective lists, and fail to see areas both of needed growth, and of unexpected strength.
Take listening, for example. I fall into a pretty classic introvert form: quiet (unless I'm with my sisters), studious, shake when I have to talk to a large group, love time alone with a good book. So I must be a good listener, because all introverts are, right? Also, plenty of people have told me that I am, so there's further confirmation. But what is this observation based on? That my mouth stays shut while others are talking? That I nod my head in the right places? Even that I might have a good observation to make at the end? These things may all be true, but if you could see what is often really going on in my head when I'm "listening", it's not so flattering. I can be perfectly quiet, nodding my head in time... and halfway to another galaxy. Or I might be quietly analyzing your first sentence and trying to figure out how to respond, missing pretty much everything else in the course of my analysis. And then there are the times that I hear every word, but just don't like what you say, and won't plan on taking it into account when I have to make that decision. Good listener, eh?
Or take that passage in I Peter 3. It's true that I'm quiet and usually gentle on the outside. But a quiet and gentle spirit is one that does not fear anything that is frightening, that submits peacefully to God's authority and providence. And far too often, beneath my quiet exterior roll waves of anxiety, stress, distraction, frustration and discontentment! No, truth be told, I have a lot of growing to do in listening and heart-quieting!
On the upside though, despite the fact that I'm supposed to love peace and quiet and a little nook away from people, I've discovered that I really love being around people, meeting new people (though I may feel awkward doing it), and taking big risks, as long as I get to take them with others I love. Maybe since I'm an introvert, I should hate living in a condo community with 5,000 of my closest friends, but in reality, I love living here, and find all the people energizing.
I'm not just picking on the introvert stereotype, either. Extroverts have their own hidden struggles and strengths. Just because you like to be around people and talk to them doesn't mean that talking boldly about the gospel with others is second-nature to you. In fact, if you derive energy from pleasant, affirming social interactions, evangelism for you may well require the same amount of effort and Spirit-given power that an introvert needs for the same task. You may love to be around people, but have a very hard time actually LOVING them. Public speaking may still give you butterflies. But on the other hand, just because you are extroverted doesn't mean you can't be skilled at really listening to people and giving them wise counsel. You can be an extroverted prayer warrior, or an extrovert who thinks very deeply about God's word (or both!).
The simple fact is that God has made us much more than binary creatures, either-ors who function in a black and white world with predictable everything. To begin with, we are all sinful, and manage to fight God's standards even in places where, in theory, we should be the most agreeable. Then, we have complicated mental processes, backgrounds, experiences and personality conglomerations that keep us from matching the stereotype and cause us to make decisions and react to things in ways that make sense only to ourselves (if that!). But it's also true that the God who created amazing galaxies yet unknown to us, an insect world that where new species are still being discovered regularly, and natural mechanisms even the most brilliant scientists have yet to reduce to a simple equation is the God who creates human beings in his own image--not exactly mundane or dichromatic--and calls us each to reflect his glorious diversity in our own unique way as we work together with other unique individuals to form the body of Christ.
It takes humility to admit that an extrovert might be able to teach me how to listen. It may not be easy for an extrovert to go to a godly introvert for encouragement in evangelism. But I don't just want to be a classic introvert. I want to be like Jesus. And that takes consistent growth in ALL areas of my life, the encouragement and admonishment of even the most "unlikely" people, and the eye-opening grace of the Holy Spirit to see my sin for what it is--"positive" exterior actions aside--and to see areas where I've been given strengths outside my "profile" that I can use to build up the body of Christ.
Where are you missing your sin or God's grace in your life because of a label you've been given?
Friday, May 03, 2013
Wise Foolishness
Tomorrow is moving day, and it has finally begun to really sink in that this is really happening. So has that feeling of being totally overwhelmed, insufficient and out of our league! The child who has been most excited and supportive of this whole moving process had a meltdown last night, pleading with me to please unsign everything and stay here! This is the point when I become acutely aware of the "foolishness" of what we're about to do. Move our country kids down to Condo Central? Squeeze our 6-member family (plus the dog) into a smaller place (when we've often thought about moving elsewhere for a little extra room)? Sign a lease on an apartment with a rent that, despite being a "deal" for the neighbourhood, is shocking to just about everyone who knows what we're about to pay? And do all this so that we can get to know a bunch of strangers with the hope of seeing the gospel impact their lives? We must be crazy!
That's when I take comfort from 1 Corinthians 1: "For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written, 'I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.' Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men."
We preach a gospel that is foolishness to the world, so why should we not expect many of the actions that accompany that gospel to appear foolish as well? Our hope is not in worldly affluence and success, in having a big yard and fresh air for the kids to play in, enjoying all the comforts of life in our dream home (or at least the closest we can come to it). Our hope is not in having neighbours who are all like us, with 4 kids and a dog (we may end up being the only ones in the neighbourhood!). It's not in having our best life now. So we'll do what is foolish, with all the wisdom that God provides, and rest in His strength and the hope of many saved to eternal life!
The kids and I have been reading a book by a mid-20th century missionary to Iran, and just finished it this Wednesday, shortly after I had my own mini-meltdown in the midst of all this stress. I was so encouraged by the closing words of this book, written by someone who gave up many things to see the gospel spread in a difficult land. They are simple words, ones we've heard many times, but they are worth reminding ourselves of again:
"When Jesus Christ is really living in our hearts, we want him to enter and live also in the hearts of our friends and in the hearts of all the people of the world. And we will do everything we can to make the good news of Christ known to everybody everywhere. It was for this that I went to Iran, and I am most grateful to God for calling me to serve him in that land as a missionary.
If God should tell you to go to some place where people to do not know Christ and to spend your life in making him known and showing his love to them, you should obey with joy. For I know of nothing that you could do with your life that would be better than that. 'For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish by have eternal life.'"
That's when I take comfort from 1 Corinthians 1: "For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written, 'I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.' Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men."
We preach a gospel that is foolishness to the world, so why should we not expect many of the actions that accompany that gospel to appear foolish as well? Our hope is not in worldly affluence and success, in having a big yard and fresh air for the kids to play in, enjoying all the comforts of life in our dream home (or at least the closest we can come to it). Our hope is not in having neighbours who are all like us, with 4 kids and a dog (we may end up being the only ones in the neighbourhood!). It's not in having our best life now. So we'll do what is foolish, with all the wisdom that God provides, and rest in His strength and the hope of many saved to eternal life!
The kids and I have been reading a book by a mid-20th century missionary to Iran, and just finished it this Wednesday, shortly after I had my own mini-meltdown in the midst of all this stress. I was so encouraged by the closing words of this book, written by someone who gave up many things to see the gospel spread in a difficult land. They are simple words, ones we've heard many times, but they are worth reminding ourselves of again:
"When Jesus Christ is really living in our hearts, we want him to enter and live also in the hearts of our friends and in the hearts of all the people of the world. And we will do everything we can to make the good news of Christ known to everybody everywhere. It was for this that I went to Iran, and I am most grateful to God for calling me to serve him in that land as a missionary.
If God should tell you to go to some place where people to do not know Christ and to spend your life in making him known and showing his love to them, you should obey with joy. For I know of nothing that you could do with your life that would be better than that. 'For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish by have eternal life.'"
-William McElwee Miller (Tales of Persia: Missionary Stories from Islamic Iran
)
)Sunday, March 03, 2013
Moving The Introvert Walls
A couple weeks ago, I read an interesting and helpful blog post about introverts and evangelism by Seth McBee. Whether you're an extrovert or an introvert, it's worth a read, and you can find it here. The basic point of the post is that introverts shouldn't be expected to evangelise in the same way as extroverts, on whose personality many common evangelism methods are based, and should rather be encouraged to share the gospel in ways that are more tailored to their quieter, more backstage personalities. I've had first-hand observation of how an introvert can be very effective at sharing Christ with others in quieter ways: my mother was, is and likely always will be the epitome of "introverted", but that hasn't stopped her from obeying Jesus' command to go and make disciples. My dad, who is the extrovert, is great at striking up a conversation with just about anyone and quickly drawing them in. But my mother keeps their home open to all the people he brings in, serving them with good food and a pleasant atmosphere, and as she gets to know people, she has a quiet way of bring the wisdom and good news of Scripture to bear on their lives. I know several people who would say that it was as much my mother's hospitality and careful quiet words that brought them to Christ as it was my father's invitation and loud gospel proclamation. So I agree whole-heartedly with this post.
But as an introvert, I want to follow it up with a challenge for all my introverted friends. Because it is not the main point of his post, it is easy to gloss over McBee's caution that we not use our introverted personality as a crutch. As I've seen in my own life though, I think we ARE often guilty of using our introversion as an excuse to go hide in our room, or to remain a "silent cleaning assassin" our whole life long and never go beyond that. We introverts need time away from people to rejuvenate. There's nothing sinful about that; it's part of our God-ordained personality. But it is very easy for us to want that too much. I am so often like the Pharisees: in the interests of staying within the confines of the law, they developed many extra rules and traditions around each point of the law to make sure they didn't come close to breaking any of God's actual commands. I do the same with my personality--I know I need quiet time by myself to rest, so to make sure I get enough, I build a personal space wall that is far higher and farther out than I truly need. You know, just to make sure... And pretty soon, I start believing that the far-out spacing of those walls is what I really do need to function. I become more and more selfish with my time and space, and justify it by my personality.
I'm discovering lately though, that while my fundamental need for "alone time" hasn't changed, I don't need anywhere near as much as I thought I did. And I'm actually capable of talking to people I don't know very well, and being open with them. We've been around more people in the last couple months than I ever thought possible, and not only am I still functioning, but (in the interest of full disclosure), I'm actually enjoying getting to know lots of new people and opening our lives to them. Yes, I've had days here and there when I really feel the need to tune out and have some quiet, to be in my own head space for a nice long while. But most days, little snatches of peace here and there have been enough to sustain me. And you're talking to the girl who was just reminded the other night of how someone we lived with for a few months (in the same house) figured really getting to know me was a lost cause because I was so good at keeping to myself the whole time!
I'm challenging myself, and all you introverted folks out there, to question our wall-placement. Are we guarding our time and our tongue more than necessary? Are we willing to sacrifice personal space to love others and see many know Christ? What is more important to us: that we function in a way that is always comfortable and convenient to us, or that lost and hurting people feel our care and hear the good news we have to offer? I'm not asking us to morph into extroverts. I'm not asking us to completely forsake quiet rejuvenation--we do need that to function and be better able to care for others. I'm not asking us to be the babbling brooks in the midst of a crowd. I'm not asking us to go stand on a soapbox in the town square and preach to a bunch of total strangers. Not today, anyway. But I am asking us to examine our reasons for remaining hidden and silent, and to look for ways that we can move our walls closer in and lower down, to push ourselves to serve others and speak into their lives even when we did it yesterday. Or this morning. Or when they are a complete stranger.
Yes, we are given different personality strengths from extroverts, and we should use our bent toward reflection, quiet service and one-on-one communication to God's glory, working alongside our extroverted brothers and sisters as one body with many different members. Yet there is also joy to be found in stretching and pushing and sometimes serving out of our weaknesses. And let's face it, folks: there is a definite weakness in having a personality that pushes us away from people. (Not just knocking the introvert here; extroverts have their own weaknesses.) But here is an opportunity to know God's strength perfected in our weakness. We will not always feel fully functional and refreshed when we are embracing the call to hospitality and evangelism. We may occasionally feel like we just can't sustain one more hour with people. But that is a place where God's grace and power have the chance to shine, carrying us through and holding us up when we know we have no more energy of our own. Any grace I've had these past few months to go on joyfully interacting with people when that seems like all I'm doing all the time has been exactly that: GRACE! And so here is not a new law, but rather a new chance to see God's sustaining grace at work in your life.
Start by being a cleaning assassin for Jesus. Be an introverted evangelist, and by God's grace, excel at it. But also allow God to move your walls in, to perforate them and even tear them down when they are in the way of reaching others with his grace, because in so doing, you'll allow more room for his grace in your own life.
But as an introvert, I want to follow it up with a challenge for all my introverted friends. Because it is not the main point of his post, it is easy to gloss over McBee's caution that we not use our introverted personality as a crutch. As I've seen in my own life though, I think we ARE often guilty of using our introversion as an excuse to go hide in our room, or to remain a "silent cleaning assassin" our whole life long and never go beyond that. We introverts need time away from people to rejuvenate. There's nothing sinful about that; it's part of our God-ordained personality. But it is very easy for us to want that too much. I am so often like the Pharisees: in the interests of staying within the confines of the law, they developed many extra rules and traditions around each point of the law to make sure they didn't come close to breaking any of God's actual commands. I do the same with my personality--I know I need quiet time by myself to rest, so to make sure I get enough, I build a personal space wall that is far higher and farther out than I truly need. You know, just to make sure... And pretty soon, I start believing that the far-out spacing of those walls is what I really do need to function. I become more and more selfish with my time and space, and justify it by my personality.
I'm discovering lately though, that while my fundamental need for "alone time" hasn't changed, I don't need anywhere near as much as I thought I did. And I'm actually capable of talking to people I don't know very well, and being open with them. We've been around more people in the last couple months than I ever thought possible, and not only am I still functioning, but (in the interest of full disclosure), I'm actually enjoying getting to know lots of new people and opening our lives to them. Yes, I've had days here and there when I really feel the need to tune out and have some quiet, to be in my own head space for a nice long while. But most days, little snatches of peace here and there have been enough to sustain me. And you're talking to the girl who was just reminded the other night of how someone we lived with for a few months (in the same house) figured really getting to know me was a lost cause because I was so good at keeping to myself the whole time!
I'm challenging myself, and all you introverted folks out there, to question our wall-placement. Are we guarding our time and our tongue more than necessary? Are we willing to sacrifice personal space to love others and see many know Christ? What is more important to us: that we function in a way that is always comfortable and convenient to us, or that lost and hurting people feel our care and hear the good news we have to offer? I'm not asking us to morph into extroverts. I'm not asking us to completely forsake quiet rejuvenation--we do need that to function and be better able to care for others. I'm not asking us to be the babbling brooks in the midst of a crowd. I'm not asking us to go stand on a soapbox in the town square and preach to a bunch of total strangers. Not today, anyway. But I am asking us to examine our reasons for remaining hidden and silent, and to look for ways that we can move our walls closer in and lower down, to push ourselves to serve others and speak into their lives even when we did it yesterday. Or this morning. Or when they are a complete stranger.
Yes, we are given different personality strengths from extroverts, and we should use our bent toward reflection, quiet service and one-on-one communication to God's glory, working alongside our extroverted brothers and sisters as one body with many different members. Yet there is also joy to be found in stretching and pushing and sometimes serving out of our weaknesses. And let's face it, folks: there is a definite weakness in having a personality that pushes us away from people. (Not just knocking the introvert here; extroverts have their own weaknesses.) But here is an opportunity to know God's strength perfected in our weakness. We will not always feel fully functional and refreshed when we are embracing the call to hospitality and evangelism. We may occasionally feel like we just can't sustain one more hour with people. But that is a place where God's grace and power have the chance to shine, carrying us through and holding us up when we know we have no more energy of our own. Any grace I've had these past few months to go on joyfully interacting with people when that seems like all I'm doing all the time has been exactly that: GRACE! And so here is not a new law, but rather a new chance to see God's sustaining grace at work in your life.
Start by being a cleaning assassin for Jesus. Be an introverted evangelist, and by God's grace, excel at it. But also allow God to move your walls in, to perforate them and even tear them down when they are in the way of reaching others with his grace, because in so doing, you'll allow more room for his grace in your own life.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Interrupted
I am not a fan of interruptions. When I have a plan for how my day is going to go, and some person suddenly decides it's the perfect time to need something from me, I often respond grudgingly at best. I'm not sure it matters whether the plan involves work or rest--it's the fact that my plans must be waylaid in order to serve someone else. Like right now, as I'm sitting down to type this and my daughter thinks that's a great time to dump out the crayons all over the floor and feed them to the dog... excuse me while I interrupt this blog post to go clean up.
Aaaaand... we're back! As I was saying--now that the crayon-dumping munchkin is safely behind the bars of her crib--I am not a fan of interruptions. But we've been talking a lot about building community lately, and a rather necessary part of building true community is being willing to put your plans on hold to meet needs and serve others around you, even when it seems very inconvenient. It's a rather essential part of being able to truly love others, when we can put aside our own desires--without irritability--to care for them. As the Sara Groves song goes: "Love to me is when you put down that one more thing and say, 'I've got something better to do.'" It's essential for marriage; it's essential for parenthood; it's essential for fellow members of Christ's body; it's essential for our ability to love and serve the unbelievers around us.
And it's very hard. We are selfish creatures who would really rather get that one more thing done, or just have some peace and quiet to read a good book after a busy week, even if someone beside us is drowning.
But this is not so much a post about the how much I hate to be interrupted. It's more about a discovery I made this week as I was reading through Mark's Gospel.
Jesus got interrupted.
Maybe you've been aware of that fact for a while. But until this week, I think I've always had this idea in my head that as fully God, Jesus couldn't possibly know what it's like to be interrupted, because he always would have known what was coming. Apparently, not so. We don't understand all the ins-and-outs of how Jesus existed as fully God and fully man at the same time, but I've come across a few places now where Jesus plans one thing, and quite another happens. Take the feeding of the 5,000. It's a story we all know, but I had never before noticed the context of this miracle. This was the plan: The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. (Mothers, can I get a witness?!) And they went away in the boat to a desolate place by themselves.
So Jesus knows they all need a good meal and a nap, and he makes it happen, right? Um, well, actually, it looks more like this: Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they ran there on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things. (Mark 6:30-35). And the people are hungry, so he goes on to have his disciples--those guys who so badly needed to rest--distribute bread and fish to thousands of people, and oversee the clean-up afterwards! (Can you imagine the WORK?)
Jesus knows what it's like to have your plans changed on you. Jesus understands the temptation to go right on with your own plan, to say, "Come on, people! Haven't I served you enough lately? Go away and let me sleep!" He sympathizes because he's gone off for some time alone, hoping no one would notice him, and been interrupted by some foreign woman who won't leave off begging him to heal her demon-possessed daughter (Mark 7:24-25). When I want a little peace and quiet to write, and instead I have to go clean up someone else's crayon mess, I'm not facing something that Jesus never knew. There really is no temptation that is not common to man, Jesus included!
Yes, rest is good and needed. After all those 5,000+ people have full bellies and good teaching, Jesus does dismiss his disciples and go spend some quiet time alone in prayer. But there is also a place to set aside the necessities, to get a little less to eat for dinner because your neighbour dropped by at the last minute and you set an extra place at the table. There is a place to forego the nap, or the neatly folded laundry, or the "family only" movie night in order to show the love of Christ to another.
Somehow, the knowledge that Jesus has been right there with me in the interruption, has felt the inconvenience himself, gives me extra grace to push on through and serve others when I'd rather serve myself. After all, when he was faced with the temptation to run away and hide in the closet (or bathroom, or pick your place of secrecy), he had a stronger emotion that overcame the temptation: compassion. He saw the people around him, and they were like sheep without a shepherd, and he loved them. I am those people. You are those people. We were like sheep without a shepherd, and out of compassion for his lost sheep, he interrupted endless ages of being worshipped in splendour and enjoying all heaven's glories to come to this dirty, sin-filled earth to know hunger, and fatigue, and need, and to rescue his lost sheep from their shepherdless wandering. If Jesus did that, if he subjected himself to such an interruption, how can I not put aside my own pleasures and desires to serve his sheep, both those who are already found, and those who are yet lost? Indeed, Jesus subjected himself to such an interruption so that we might be given his perfect record of compassionate service, and so that we might receive the Holy Spirit who empowers us to joyfully set aside our plans and instead be a conduit of his compassionate love to others!
I'm not a fan of interruptions, but maybe I need to be, because interruptions are an opportunity to know the love of the Jesus who was interrupted for me.
Aaaaand... we're back! As I was saying--now that the crayon-dumping munchkin is safely behind the bars of her crib--I am not a fan of interruptions. But we've been talking a lot about building community lately, and a rather necessary part of building true community is being willing to put your plans on hold to meet needs and serve others around you, even when it seems very inconvenient. It's a rather essential part of being able to truly love others, when we can put aside our own desires--without irritability--to care for them. As the Sara Groves song goes: "Love to me is when you put down that one more thing and say, 'I've got something better to do.'" It's essential for marriage; it's essential for parenthood; it's essential for fellow members of Christ's body; it's essential for our ability to love and serve the unbelievers around us.
And it's very hard. We are selfish creatures who would really rather get that one more thing done, or just have some peace and quiet to read a good book after a busy week, even if someone beside us is drowning.
But this is not so much a post about the how much I hate to be interrupted. It's more about a discovery I made this week as I was reading through Mark's Gospel.
Jesus got interrupted.
Maybe you've been aware of that fact for a while. But until this week, I think I've always had this idea in my head that as fully God, Jesus couldn't possibly know what it's like to be interrupted, because he always would have known what was coming. Apparently, not so. We don't understand all the ins-and-outs of how Jesus existed as fully God and fully man at the same time, but I've come across a few places now where Jesus plans one thing, and quite another happens. Take the feeding of the 5,000. It's a story we all know, but I had never before noticed the context of this miracle. This was the plan: The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. (Mothers, can I get a witness?!) And they went away in the boat to a desolate place by themselves.
So Jesus knows they all need a good meal and a nap, and he makes it happen, right? Um, well, actually, it looks more like this: Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they ran there on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things. (Mark 6:30-35). And the people are hungry, so he goes on to have his disciples--those guys who so badly needed to rest--distribute bread and fish to thousands of people, and oversee the clean-up afterwards! (Can you imagine the WORK?)
Jesus knows what it's like to have your plans changed on you. Jesus understands the temptation to go right on with your own plan, to say, "Come on, people! Haven't I served you enough lately? Go away and let me sleep!" He sympathizes because he's gone off for some time alone, hoping no one would notice him, and been interrupted by some foreign woman who won't leave off begging him to heal her demon-possessed daughter (Mark 7:24-25). When I want a little peace and quiet to write, and instead I have to go clean up someone else's crayon mess, I'm not facing something that Jesus never knew. There really is no temptation that is not common to man, Jesus included!
Yes, rest is good and needed. After all those 5,000+ people have full bellies and good teaching, Jesus does dismiss his disciples and go spend some quiet time alone in prayer. But there is also a place to set aside the necessities, to get a little less to eat for dinner because your neighbour dropped by at the last minute and you set an extra place at the table. There is a place to forego the nap, or the neatly folded laundry, or the "family only" movie night in order to show the love of Christ to another.
Somehow, the knowledge that Jesus has been right there with me in the interruption, has felt the inconvenience himself, gives me extra grace to push on through and serve others when I'd rather serve myself. After all, when he was faced with the temptation to run away and hide in the closet (or bathroom, or pick your place of secrecy), he had a stronger emotion that overcame the temptation: compassion. He saw the people around him, and they were like sheep without a shepherd, and he loved them. I am those people. You are those people. We were like sheep without a shepherd, and out of compassion for his lost sheep, he interrupted endless ages of being worshipped in splendour and enjoying all heaven's glories to come to this dirty, sin-filled earth to know hunger, and fatigue, and need, and to rescue his lost sheep from their shepherdless wandering. If Jesus did that, if he subjected himself to such an interruption, how can I not put aside my own pleasures and desires to serve his sheep, both those who are already found, and those who are yet lost? Indeed, Jesus subjected himself to such an interruption so that we might be given his perfect record of compassionate service, and so that we might receive the Holy Spirit who empowers us to joyfully set aside our plans and instead be a conduit of his compassionate love to others!
I'm not a fan of interruptions, but maybe I need to be, because interruptions are an opportunity to know the love of the Jesus who was interrupted for me.
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