Dad

"Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God-–children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God." --John 1:12-13 (NIV) 

Do we really behave every day as children of God?  


I've been struck at odd times lately that if we all treated God as head of the family instead of an ethereal father, we might do things a bit differently.  We usually think about God as if He's far, far away, but He's always right here with us.  He's here on the couch with me as I type this.  He's there where you are reading this.  He's everywhere, in fact. 


Does He really seem real to us?  What if I prayed to Him as if He were sitting right across from me on the fireplace hearth instead of away in the heavens?


If we had a loving, always-available, perfect father who longed to spend time with us every day, would we ever go days, weeks, months, or even years treating him the way we sometimes treat God?  Let's face it. We ignore Him.  We're ungrateful.  We constantly ask for things we don't really need.  And we complain when He gives us the things He knows we should have.  I think we do the things we do because sometimes it's hard to think of God as our Dad, and it's hard to think of ourselves as His kids.


We're in a family.  Our siblings are our brothers and sisters in the Church.  The head of the household is God.  We might elbow each other at the dinner table from time to time, but otherwise this is the best family in the universe.  Rejoice and have a heart-to-heart talk with Dad.


In His service,
Stephanie

     

My Ministry Pogo Stick

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love,may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,  and to know this love that surpasses knowledge–that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.  

 --Ephesians 3:17-19 (NIV)

Our team retreat has been rescheduled to Friday, so my thoughts have returned to composing a succinct statement of my ministry burden or passion.  


First, I don't really even like calling it a burden, because it makes my calling sound like drudgery, like ankle weights.  I picture myself hauling a ball-and-chain through a mud bog. But when I think about my calling, I feel the opposite sensation.  I feel like I'm jumping up and down on a pogo stick.  Anyone who's attended one of the orientation weeks I've facilitated could probably say I seem like I'm jumping up and down on a pogo stick for most of the week.  I have so much fun (and coffee) I'm full of enthusiasm and energy (and caffeine).  So I think I'd really rather call it a ministry pogo stick.


So I can say that if I could state my calling, or my passion, or my pogo stick in terms of my favorite questions to ask people, it would come out something like this:


"What do you think God is trying to teach you/show you in this situation?"
or
"How is God working on you right now?"


These questions have tons of variations and always lead to other questions, but these are really the main areas that I just love to talk about/read about/think about/pray about, etc.  


What these two questions really lead to is how God is pushing the person (almost always a woman, so we'll say it's a "she") to become a little more like the person God wants her to be in whatever area He's working on--right?  So if there's some way I can ask a question or point to a certain passage of the Bible or pray for the person, in order to help the person through the process of growth, which is almost always painful (let's be honest), that's worth everything.  That is really something worth giving my life for.  


So I think what I really get excited about is helping other Christians in the process of maturing, obeying, and determining God's calling and plan for their lives.  


Reading that makes me feel like I'm jumping up and down on a pogo stick.


In His service,
Stephanie

Thanks.

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said.  But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, 'Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!' 'Martha, Martha,' the Lord answered, 'you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.' 

--Luke 10:38-42 (NIV)

As we head into Thanksgiving and my head fills with things to do, I start thinking about Mary and Martha.  When I read these verses, I have so many questions as I see the scene unfold in my head.  I first have to wonder what took place before Jesus arrived.  All we know from the text is that Martha opened her home to Jesus and the disciples.  How much notice did she have that they were coming?  Doesn’t the word “preparation” imply that Martha should have been finished with whatever she was doing by the time her guests arrived?  Why wasn’t she?  On the other hand, if she had no advance warning and Jesus dropped in unannounced, what did she think Jesus and the disciples were expecting?  An elaborate banquet?  Unlikely.

Later in the story, I picture Jesus sitting in one room of the house, teaching the disciples, Mary, and anyone else who was able to be there.  The room is quiet, and the people are listening intently to Jesus’ every word.  I picture Martha in the kitchen, hustling around and becoming angrier by the second.  

Why didn’t Mary choose to help Martha in the kitchen? Jesus says she made a better choice instead.  I also wonder what Jesus was preaching about.  We’ll never know, and neither will Martha.  An opportunity lost forever.  

Eventually, Martha reaches her limit.  I picture her flinging down a rag (did they have rags back then?), pushing a lock of hair out of her face with an exasperated sigh, and charging into the room where Jesus is teaching.  She accuses Jesus of not caring about her, insinuates that it’s Mary’s fault that she’s stuck in the kitchen, and demands that Jesus tell Mary to help in the kitchen.  

Whoa!  Martha has some nerve to interrupt the Lord of the Universe (who is also her guest, by the way) to make demands of Him, accuse Him of not loving her, and complain about the work she has to do to in order to have Him as a guest in her home.  

More importantly, what about the things she doesn’t complain about? She doesn’t say a word about missing out on spending time with Jesus.  She doesn’t seem to be bothered by not hearing His teaching.

Jesus’ response is gentle, calming and understanding, yet offers a rebuke at the same time.  He says she is worried and upset about “many things.”  Since He knows all of her thoughts, I wonder what things He means?  No doubt Martha knows.  

He directs her that “only one thing is needed.”  This “one thing” is the answer to Martha’s immediate situation and to all situations--stop and spend time with the only One who matters.  He goes on to tell Martha that “Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”  What Mary has learned will never be taken from her, and Jesus Himself will never be taken from her either.

Here’s my biggest question about this story: After Jesus responds to Martha, what does she do?  Does she listen to Jesus, realize He’s right, and humbly take a seat at his feet?  Or does she roll her eyes, huff back to the kitchen, and finish working by herself?  

This Thanksgiving, when you’re faced with the choice of checking items off of your to-do list, or spending time with the only One who matters, choose what is better.  It will not be taken away from you.

With Thanks,

Stephanie

What Are You Willing to Give Your Life For?

Our team is having a retreat on Friday.  As part of our preparation, my boss has asked each of us to write out a statement of our ministry burden or passion.  I printed out the worksheets she provided, and as I was looking over the first page (truthfully, to set it aside and get back to it later) something made me stop in my tracks, and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind since.  The worksheet said, "A ministry burden or passion is something you'd be willing to give your life for."

Willing to give my life for?

I put the piece of paper down, but that sentence kept circling around in my head all day.  I did some other work, I put together a video presentation, I spent some time this evening pulling weeds, I worked on a knitting project, but the whole time I just kept asking myself, "What ministry am I willing to give my life for?  What is that important to me?"

There were other sentences on that page that described what a ministry burden or passion is.  "...a God-given concern," "...something you are willing to sacrifice for," "...something that really motivates you."  All of those and the others were helpful and descriptive.  But I'm not ruminating over any of those.  Those make it easy to write a statement of my ministry burden or passion.  But when I think about what ministry I'd be willing to give my life for, I suddenly develop writer's block and have no idea what kind of ministry I'm excited about.

I would give my life in obedience to the Lord, so in that sense, I suppose whatever ministry He's called me to is one I'd be willing to give my life for.  But unfortunately, my statement has to be more specific than merely writing "Jesus, and everything that involves" on this piece of paper and calling it done.

I'll keep working on it.  Stay tuned for the final product.

In His Service,
Stephanie

Thorn in the Flesh

"So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations,t a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me.But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."  

--2 Cor. 12:7-10 (ESV)

Which would cause you more torment: epilepsy or someone you love betraying you?  Migraines or finding out your best friend had been laughing at you behind your back?  Which would be more humbling?  Which would drive you to your knees more quickly?


In 2 Corinthians 7-10, Paul talks of the "thorn in the flesh" that was given to him to harass or torment him, a "messenger of Satan," which was to keep him from becoming conceited.  Paul begged the Lord three times to take it from him, but He refused, saying "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Cor. 12:10.  


I listened to two sermons in the car today, one on the way downtown and one on the way back.  They both dealt with these verses, with Paul's thorn in the flesh.  The pastor's position was that the thorn was not a physical infirmity, but instead was a person or a group of people.


When I first heard this theory, I dismissed it out of hand, because it just didn't seem right to me.  In all of my extensive theological training after being a Christian for 4 long years (yes, I'm being sarcastic), I quickly rejected this idea as preposterous.  I heard it again, maybe a year later, only this time it was twice in one day, and the second time in the same day it was from my own pastor, who I couldn't possibly respect more.  Of course, I shared my brilliant and well-researched opinion with him that I didn't think the thorn in the flesh could possibly have been a person or people. Later, I replayed the conversation in my head and felt like a total, unmitigated idiot.  If I were an apostle, I would have been Peter.  I realized that my pastor had some extremely valid points (of course!).  He mentioned that John MacArthur held the same view, so I decided to try to get the facts.  I found two sermons where MacArthur addressed the very issue, and those are the sermons I listened to in the car today.  


Paul had poured his heart and soul into the church in Corinth.  They had come so far, he was so proud of them.  He counted the church in Corinth a huge success.  He had done such a great job with them. 


I had a light bulb appear above my head while I was driving on I-65.  He had worked so hard.  He was so proud of the church.  The church was Paul's achievement.  Excuse me, whose success?  Whose achievement?  Paul was so proud of the church and its success.  God chose the most appropriate and the most painful discipline to adjust Paul's attitude.


Enter false teachers.  Paul refers to "a messenger of Satan" when he talks about these people who led the Corinthians astray.  Satan, the Father of Lies.  God allowed Satan to have his way with the Corinthian church to "torment" Paul and show him that the church in Corinth wasn't Paul's achievement at all.  


"But it's not fair," you say.  Why punish the Corinthians just because Paul had a pride problem?  Well, it was God's church to build, and His to allow the false teachers to enter, to serve His purposes.  


These false teachers came into the Corinthian church and told the church members that Paul had it all wrong.  They said Paul was the false teacher, and the Corinthians followed the wolves without a protest.  Paul loved these people, they were his brothers and sisters in Christ!  He had brought them so far, he had taught them and led them.  Betrayed.  The pain was nearly unbearable.  Time would make the wound heal, but it would always ache from time to time. 


What do you think?  Was Paul's "thorn in the flesh" a physical ailment, or a person or group of people? Or something else altogether?


To listen to the sermons, click here:  
http://www.gty.org/resources/sermons/scripture/2-corinthians


In His service,
Stephanie