Well, I am still alive, though possibly buried under a pile of boxes... But I thought it was time I dug myself out long enough to give a little update on what we're up to (and why I've been MIA lately, and probably still will be for at least a few more weeks). Many of you who know us personally will have heard this already, but I figured it was time to fill in everyone who has only heard rumblings on this blog or on Facebook.
For the last 6 years, we've been part of a great church family at Sovereign Grace Church Toronto in King City, Ontario. We love this group dearly, and have learned and benefitted much from them over the years. We're grateful for the faithful, wise, biblical teaching of Tim Kerr and others. We're so thankful for the example of godly fellowship we've observed and been a part of, the gracious way others have challenged us, offered true wisdom and encouraged us, as well as the way many have so graciously accepted input from us. We've been greatly blessed by the generosity of this people, and so many of the times in the last 6 years that we've had huge needs miraculously met, God has used these dear people to meet them. And now, although we are sad to leave, we sincerely appreciate their generosity in sending us out on a new mission and adventure!
Last June, our pastor told us about a brand new church planting effort just getting underway in Liberty Village, Toronto. He was aware that we have long had a desire to be back in the city (after 5 years out in rural Ontario), and wanted to help his friend, Darryl Dash, who was heading up this plant and looking for people to be involved. This was admittedly a little out of the blue for us, as we had no real intentions at that point to make such a change in the very near future. We spent the next 6 months wrestling through questions of where God was leading us, getting to know this new little group a bit, and seeking advice from family and a few close friends. In January, in the midst of getting back into the school year, cleaning up after puppies and whatever else we were up to that I can no longer recall (but which at the time seemed to be pushing me toward the mad house), Nathan and Darryl met for lunch, then went to a church planting conference together, and we made a decision to really begin pursuing involvement at Liberty Grace Church. Within the month we realized that if we were going to do this, living 45 minutes north of the city (when the church is almost as downtown as you can get) was not going to be practical or effective for very long. So as we were shooing the last of the puppies off to their new homes, we were starting to look at house listings in Toronto. The absurdly high cost of living in the city was very discouraging (as was the shortage of 3 bedroom places in Liberty Village), but every single one of the many people we sought for counsel was excited and encouraging, and so we began to pray that if this was, in fact, the move we were to make, that God would once again miraculously provide--both a place to live and the finances to pay for it.
Well, the long and the short of it is that He has, yet again, done more than we asked for, and has not only provided what we need for at least the next 6 months' living expenses, but also a townhouse-style condo that is in the same complex as Darryl Dash and his wife, Charlene (we will literally be able to yell at them from our balcony). This is great for fellowship, and ideal for the kind of community/relationship-building outreach that Liberty Grace is pursuing.
So in a very quickly passing 11 days, we say good-bye to the fields and the quiet (and the slow internet) of the Ontario Greenbelt, and move what's left of our stuff into a 3-story city condo. We love the city, we love the people of the city, and we're excited (and a little terrified) to be a part of what God is doing in Liberty Village, but it's going to be a big adjustment, especially for the kids (and therefore for us, too!). So we'd really appreciate your prayers for us as we make this move.
As soon as I have a chance, I want to write more about Liberty Grace Church and the desire to reach Liberty Village with the gospel, but right now, I need to clear a path through the boxes to my bed.
I'll peep out again one of these days!
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Monday, April 01, 2013
When Easter is Dry
The glorious freedom proclaimed by the cross, and the amazing hope of eternal life shouted by the empty tomb are things to be celebrated with tears, loud singing and exuberant joy. And often, these truths bring just such a reaction from my soul. But I'll be honest: this particular Good Friday and Easter Sunday, my emotions didn't cooperate. We're in the middle of a lot of changes and I was tired, physically and emotionally. I spent more of my thoughts on how my two-year-old was behaving during the Good Friday service than on the wonder of my Saviour's death for me. And Easter Sunday started with kids up at a crazy hour clamoring for candy. When we met as a church, I felt pretty emotionally flat-lined. At least until the subtle guilt started rising... At that point, emotions have a tendancy to go south. I mean, what kind of Christian am I if I'm not leaping for joy on the day that is the highlight of the Christian calendar? A brief dry spell that would be just that on any other day suddenly seems reason enough to doubt my salvation on a day when I'm supposed to be especially devout.
Have you ever felt that? Ever had a Christmas season when the miracle of the incarnation got lost in the busyness? Or a Thankgiving when gratitude was not particularly abundant? Or an Easter when you really just wanted to go back to bed? It seems to me that while lack of wonder and awe and thankfulness expose our weakness and sin on any given day, they feel to us to be especially condemning when the calendar says it's time to be amazed and grateful.
And that is precisely why I am thankful for the events that inspire the Easter weekend celebration. The cross proclaims that I am justified by faith alone, not by the measure of my fervent devotion on Good Friday (or any other day). It is faith in Christ and his work that saves me, and not the number of tears I shed because of it. And the resurrection cries out that death and sin have been fully overcome, and that the day is fast approaching when it will be impossible to feel anything BUT joy and delight at the magnitude of Christ's work on our behalf!
The cross and the empty tomb should move us to celebration. But when instead our hearts fail to leap and our soul feels dry, it is the cross and the empty tomb that free us from the condemnation of the laws of religious observance. It is the cross and the empty tomb that respond to the devil's accusations of failure and apathy with the cry, "No! I paid for these sins, and I am making this cold heart new!"
There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.
Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us... For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation (including spiritual dryness), will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:1-4,33-39)
Have you ever felt that? Ever had a Christmas season when the miracle of the incarnation got lost in the busyness? Or a Thankgiving when gratitude was not particularly abundant? Or an Easter when you really just wanted to go back to bed? It seems to me that while lack of wonder and awe and thankfulness expose our weakness and sin on any given day, they feel to us to be especially condemning when the calendar says it's time to be amazed and grateful.
And that is precisely why I am thankful for the events that inspire the Easter weekend celebration. The cross proclaims that I am justified by faith alone, not by the measure of my fervent devotion on Good Friday (or any other day). It is faith in Christ and his work that saves me, and not the number of tears I shed because of it. And the resurrection cries out that death and sin have been fully overcome, and that the day is fast approaching when it will be impossible to feel anything BUT joy and delight at the magnitude of Christ's work on our behalf!
The cross and the empty tomb should move us to celebration. But when instead our hearts fail to leap and our soul feels dry, it is the cross and the empty tomb that free us from the condemnation of the laws of religious observance. It is the cross and the empty tomb that respond to the devil's accusations of failure and apathy with the cry, "No! I paid for these sins, and I am making this cold heart new!"
There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.
Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us... For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation (including spiritual dryness), will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:1-4,33-39)
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Great is His Faithfulness
We're in the early stages of a move right now (hence the lack of posts lately), and I've been taking spare minutes here and there to start the labourious task of going through long-neglected corners and cubbies and culling the contents. It amazes me how much six people can accumulate in the space of 5 short years! Kudos to those of you who've moved after a much longer stretch in one place, because this is bad enough, and I don't even consider myself much of a pack rat!
Of course, the upside of going through closets and files that you haven't touched in years is that you tend to get rewarded with memories--little locks of baby hair from the girl who just turned 9, a love letter from a very smitten boyfriend (now husband of a decade), a cassette tape from my highschool music program that I might listen to if I still had a cassette player... But among all these things, the memories that have been most on my mind since I discovered them in a box a couple weeks ago are in a little packet of cards that once contained large sums of money.
Nathan and I have had few seasons in life where we've had plenty of money to spare. And while I admit that I sometimes envy people who seem to be able to make large purchases without batting an eye, on the whole I really am content to be in the position of just having enough. Maybe it's my upbringing as the daughter of a small-town pastor turned urban church planter. We weren't ever rolling in the dough then either! But when things are tight enough that the car is not allowed to break down and the shoes are going to make it through one last winter or else, there are ample opportunities to experience the blessing of God's visible, miraculous provision (because invariably, the car will break down and those shoes won't last past December). And that little packet of cards are evidence of just that: God's visible, miraculous provision for us. They come from a variety of times over the course of our 10 years of marriage. There's a note that accompanied a brand new dryer when a dear couple in Louisville found out I was hanging all of Susanna's baby clothes up to dry over the shower rod in our little apartment (and another one from the same couple that had grocery money in it). There's an index card from old friends explaining that they'd come into some money and just thought they'd send us some of it (at a time when, unbeknownst to them, we had just lost some furniture in a move). There's a copy of an anonymous cheque for $2000 that was dropped in the offering plate for us when Nathan broke his knee 4 years ago and was out of work (can't wait until heaven when I get to find out who did that!). And that cheque is right alongside another card from that same day that came with another $200, bringing the total to exactly 2 months rent (We found out shortly thereafter that one of our friends had actually been praying for 2 months' rent for us). And there are many, many more! We figure that if we could go back and add it all up, we've been the recipients of unexpected provisions worth over 10 thousand dollars over the last 10 years. God has been so, so faithful to us!
And yet, still we doubt his faithfulness! Even now, in the midst of planning for a move, we are continually tempted to wonder how in the world we are going to get by. We're just like those disciples who had witnessed Jesus' provision again and again, and still wonder how he's going to manage to feed those 5,000 hungry people. And then, after he more than manages, they immediately wonder about this new crowd of 4,000. Where's their food going to come from? God provides for us over and over without fail, and yet we struggle to believe he can do it again. Well, I am here to testify to you, and (maybe even more so) to myself, that God has ALWAYS been faithful to us. There has NEVER been one true need unmet, NEVER been a lack of grace for the trials of the day, NEVER been an abandoning of us in the hour of our weakness. God has already been faithful in filling our greatest need--to be reconciled to him through Christ's death on our behalf. And if he did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and you needn't worry about lacking food or clothes or any other necessary thing. He feeds the birds; he'll feed us, too. God has been faithful; he will be again.
And yes, he has been again, because just last week, he provided yet another unexpected large sum of money to help finance this move, from a family member who is getting a settlement from a 20-year-long dispute (side note: how amazing that God would allow that to go on for so long, so that just at the right time, we'd get what we need!). Lord, we believe you are faithful; help our unbelief!
This move will be a down-size, so we have a lot to toss, sell and give away. But you'd better believe that little packet of cards will be coming with us. In fact, if I didn't think my two-year-old might rip them to shreds, I'd post them on the fridge for a constant reminder!
All I have needed, his hand has provided. He's always been faithful to me!
Of course, the upside of going through closets and files that you haven't touched in years is that you tend to get rewarded with memories--little locks of baby hair from the girl who just turned 9, a love letter from a very smitten boyfriend (now husband of a decade), a cassette tape from my highschool music program that I might listen to if I still had a cassette player... But among all these things, the memories that have been most on my mind since I discovered them in a box a couple weeks ago are in a little packet of cards that once contained large sums of money.
Nathan and I have had few seasons in life where we've had plenty of money to spare. And while I admit that I sometimes envy people who seem to be able to make large purchases without batting an eye, on the whole I really am content to be in the position of just having enough. Maybe it's my upbringing as the daughter of a small-town pastor turned urban church planter. We weren't ever rolling in the dough then either! But when things are tight enough that the car is not allowed to break down and the shoes are going to make it through one last winter or else, there are ample opportunities to experience the blessing of God's visible, miraculous provision (because invariably, the car will break down and those shoes won't last past December). And that little packet of cards are evidence of just that: God's visible, miraculous provision for us. They come from a variety of times over the course of our 10 years of marriage. There's a note that accompanied a brand new dryer when a dear couple in Louisville found out I was hanging all of Susanna's baby clothes up to dry over the shower rod in our little apartment (and another one from the same couple that had grocery money in it). There's an index card from old friends explaining that they'd come into some money and just thought they'd send us some of it (at a time when, unbeknownst to them, we had just lost some furniture in a move). There's a copy of an anonymous cheque for $2000 that was dropped in the offering plate for us when Nathan broke his knee 4 years ago and was out of work (can't wait until heaven when I get to find out who did that!). And that cheque is right alongside another card from that same day that came with another $200, bringing the total to exactly 2 months rent (We found out shortly thereafter that one of our friends had actually been praying for 2 months' rent for us). And there are many, many more! We figure that if we could go back and add it all up, we've been the recipients of unexpected provisions worth over 10 thousand dollars over the last 10 years. God has been so, so faithful to us!
And yet, still we doubt his faithfulness! Even now, in the midst of planning for a move, we are continually tempted to wonder how in the world we are going to get by. We're just like those disciples who had witnessed Jesus' provision again and again, and still wonder how he's going to manage to feed those 5,000 hungry people. And then, after he more than manages, they immediately wonder about this new crowd of 4,000. Where's their food going to come from? God provides for us over and over without fail, and yet we struggle to believe he can do it again. Well, I am here to testify to you, and (maybe even more so) to myself, that God has ALWAYS been faithful to us. There has NEVER been one true need unmet, NEVER been a lack of grace for the trials of the day, NEVER been an abandoning of us in the hour of our weakness. God has already been faithful in filling our greatest need--to be reconciled to him through Christ's death on our behalf. And if he did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and you needn't worry about lacking food or clothes or any other necessary thing. He feeds the birds; he'll feed us, too. God has been faithful; he will be again.
And yes, he has been again, because just last week, he provided yet another unexpected large sum of money to help finance this move, from a family member who is getting a settlement from a 20-year-long dispute (side note: how amazing that God would allow that to go on for so long, so that just at the right time, we'd get what we need!). Lord, we believe you are faithful; help our unbelief!
This move will be a down-size, so we have a lot to toss, sell and give away. But you'd better believe that little packet of cards will be coming with us. In fact, if I didn't think my two-year-old might rip them to shreds, I'd post them on the fridge for a constant reminder!
All I have needed, his hand has provided. He's always been faithful to me!
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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