Jesus Has Already Said These Things to Us – Update 4.8.13

IN listening to a message by David Platt, I found myself immobile, sitting on the floor of my room. I had heard the teaching live in the stadium of however many thousand, but for some reason the words did not strike me until I was cleaning my flat in England a few months later. A friend had posted the video on Facebook, and I remember it being good, so I turned it on while I tidied in lieu of going to church one Sunday morning. Having heard it before, I did not expect it to leave me so convicted.

Platt was going through Luke 9: 57 – 62, and in the passage, one of the people who had been listening to Jesus cries out, "I'll go with you anywhere!" Now, you'd think Jesus would celebrate, dance, do a jig, whatever, at this declaration of allegiance. But He doesn't. Jesus, being Jesus, replies, "Foxes have dens, and birds have nest, but the Son of Man doesn't have a place to call his own."

...and silence. Well, alright, maybe Jesus was just being philosophical. But in the next sentences down, He gets all too gritty. "I will follow you, but I have to go bury my father." What does all compassionate, all loving Jesus say? “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”

It seems calloused. But it gets worse. Another calls out, "I will follow you, but let me go and say goodbye to my family." Response: "No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”

Are you ready for the kicker? In his teaching David Platt asks, "What if Jesus' initial invitation to you had been hate your mom and dad [in comparison to your love for Me]? What if He had said pick up an instrument of death and follow me? What if He said to us give up everything you have? And this is where we come face-to-face with the frightening reality:

Jesus has already said these things to us."

Sometimes in being in full time ministry, I make the devastating mistake of thinking I've already abandoned everything for Him. And I haven't. I know I haven't because I still ask the questions like, what can Christ do to fill me up more in my life? When really I ought to be asking is what I can do to fill Him up more. There are times when I wish to scream at myself, "Do you even understand who you're following?" A creator. A God. A prince. A life shattering, soul shaking, nail splintering, blood piercing saviour.

But God has grace on me. He is patient, He understands my humanity, and the little improvements mean the world to Him. Hallelujah.

Update — 4.8.13 

After three months of studying the book of Philippians with my class of 28 students, I had the honour of releasing them out onto the mission field. They're currently in Newcastle and Livingpool, England, and will then be headed out into Albania to share the gospel. I rather think I understand how mother hens feel now.

I will miss their hungry faces, eager to scoot in and learn about what I had to say about the people of Philippi and what Paul's letter was attempting to teach them. While I had prayed about which book to teach, I was shocked at how perfectly Philippians applied to the class and their struggles. It gave me goose bumps each time I spoke with a student about what the team was grappling with as a group, and it always 'just happened' to be what we were studying in Philippians that lesson. Things like that ought not be a surprise, but it's always a wonder to me how God orchestrates with such delicacy.

Some of my enthusiastic students.

My students astounded me with their maturity and willingness to tackle their flaws head on. Aside from teaching in a classroom setting, I also had counselling sessions with many of them, sorting through issues of perfectionism, fear of God, worship, and more. Many of them encountered God, His father-like heart, and love for the first time. It was beautiful to see their transformations. I have no doubt I will hear many stories about how they, in turn, taught others about the love of God.

The Fisherman – Update 2.4.13

DURING my writing education, I was instructed to never have your audience read large chunks of scripture. Ever. Period. But, then again, I was also taught to never begin a sentence with 'but.' There is, unfortunately, something about the Bible which bores the Western mind. So bare with me as you and I both break this rule. Because everything significant about this post has to do with this passage from Luke:

Jesus was standing on the shore of Lake Gennesaret, teaching the people as they crowded around him to hear God’s message. Near the shore he saw two boats left there by some fishermen who had gone to wash their nets. Jesus got into the boat that belonged to Simon and asked him to row it out a little way from the shore. Then Jesus sat down in the boat to teach the crowd.

When Jesus had finished speaking, he told Simon, “Row the boat out into the deep water and let your nets down to catch some fish.”

“Master,” Simon answered, “we have worked hard all night long and have not caught a thing. But if you tell me to, I will let the nets down.” They did it and caught so many fish that their nets began ripping apart. Then they signalled for their partners in the other boat to come and help them. The men came, and together they filled the two boats so full that they both began to sink.

When Simon Peter saw this happen, he knelt down in front of Jesus and said, “Lord, don’t come near me! I am a sinner.” Peter and everyone with him were completely surprised at all the fish they had caught. His partners James and John, the sons of Zebedee, were surprised too.

Jesus told Simon, “Don’t be afraid! From now on you will bring in people instead of fish.” The men pulled their boats up on the shore. Then they left everything and went with Jesus. (Luke 5:1-11 CEV) 

Let me ask you the question I was posed at Urbana 2012 (a large missions conference in the States): why was Simon Peter able to up and leave the catch of his life to follow Christ? Think about that for a moment: here was Simon, a fisherman who slaved every day, distantly dreaming of the catch of his life. That one day he would bring in so many fish that he could have an instant retirement. And it happened. Done. Dream fulfilled. So, why did Simon exchange an opportunity for a life of leisure for Christ?
It could have been because he was so in awe at the miracle, but I'm not sure that's the case.

What strikes me so much about this passage is the interaction between Christ and Peter. When Christ asks Simon to put his nets back into the water after a night of fishing, Simon snarks, "We were fishing all night, but we'll humour you." The response reveals not only his pride, but also his doubt and unbelief. But Christ, instead of chastising and shaming him in front of the crowd, He chooses to show Simon grace by humbling Simon without humiliating him. Christ convicts him through shattering his doubt – and smothering him in fish.

Part of me thinks this miracle was meant just for Simon. If you notice, the crowd Christ was teaching has no idea what is going on; the miracle wasn't for them. Yes, the rest of the disciples opted to follow Christ too, but they did not throw themselves to their knees in a slosh of slimy, reeking fish to repent as Simon did. There was something about this act which was for Simon alone.

Christ was telling Peter through the miracle, "I see you. I see your heart. I see your doubt." Simon knew the game was up, that he was exposed; no amount of excuses or blame shifting could help him disguise it. In his shame, he sobs to Christ, "Go away from me, Lord! I am a sinful man."

I'm convinced it was not the miracle itself, but rather Christ revealing the state of Simon's heart and loving him anyway is what attracted Simon to Christ. Christ showed He was about individuals simply by the way He handled Simon's mistrust in Him with poise, grace, gentleness, and, interestingly enough, respect for Simon. That's the sort of man(/God) which is worthy to be followed, and Simon jumped at the chance to do so.

I remember being gob-smacked at how well Christ handled the situation. Well, then, I thought, I'm called to show that sort of situational discernment and respect for others too. That is what love is, my friends. And I am continuously shocked as I see Christ exercise it in every circumstance.


Update — 2.4.13
At the moment, I'm working on the content writing for the new ywam.org, which is in process as I type. However, my main focus this time is on teaching. I am training a young leader how to study the Bible using the inductive method. Inductive Bible study is learning how to glean truth from objectively observing the text, rather than using the relative interpretation of self, "Well, what this passage means to me is..." I cannot pretend I've mastered the skill myself, so the both of us will be sharpening our knowledge of God's word. Then again, who can really say they know their Bible through-and-through?

I'm also lecturing and teaching the DTS (Discipleship Training School) students Old Testament and New Testament basics, and the book of Philippians. This includes historical background as well. The DTS is YWAM's first level of training, so for many of these students, it is the first time they've delve down deep into Bible studying.

After four weeks of teaching, I've fallen in love with the DTS. They're bright, eager, and ready for transformation. My respect for them is through the roof, as many of them have expressed the earnest desire to see visible change in their lives. They also never fail to broaden my own understanding with their personal observations of the Bible.

Simple Words

I didn’t always stutter.
In fact, that began when I became a writer.
Writing allows you the freedom to snip, feather, and frisbee
Away at the things you do not wish to convey.
Writing can never be abandoned.
It may be cut, altered, sewed, and hemmed
Until one is partially convinced it’s ready to be displayed.

But speech is orphaned the moment it leaves your mouth.
This goes against my obsession and my compulsion,
To find the right word for the precise moment to say the perfect thing.
I construct to de-construct, pull apart to place back together,
But you cannot edit words once they have been spoken.
Though that doesn’t mean I don’t try.

On their way out, I grasp for them in mid-air.
They bottleneck as they leave my lips,
And the collision can be heard in my enunciation.
Maybe there are times to leave the craft of the wordsmith behind,
To stop thumbing through my thesaurus, and disinherit my dictionary
Maybe it’s time to picnic with Kerouac
in knowing someday in eternity
I will find the right words.
And they will be simple.

We Don't Need Erasers for this Ink

I wish we had been given erasers. A way to rub out the mistakes when our hands slip. Then the calligraphy of our lives could be as beautiful as we hoped it would be. However, I find that with each downward stroke in which I flinch or rush too quickly, I grope for an eraser that isn't there. Calligraphy isn't done with pencil anyway. It's composed with ink. It's composed with a permanence. With each flaw, I find myself panicking, attempting to scrub out the mistake. But that just ends with the entire sentence being smeared.

It's even worse when you knock over the vat of ink onto someone else. They stare, wide-eyed at the mess which has now drenched them too. I may shove the person a towel and beg forgiveness, but I can't fix it. Ink stains. I couldn't even get the calligraphy of my own life to look beautiful, how am I suppose to fix someone else's?

"The greatest problems of conscience are not the wrong things we've done, but wrong relationships. We may have become born again, but what about those we have wronged? We may try to repair the damage in our own way by apologising, by writing letters; but it is not a simple easy matter of something to be apologised for," writes Oswald Chambers in his essay, The Philosophy of Sin.

"The shores of life are strewn with ruined friendships, irreparable severances through our own blame...then comes the strange distress, 'How do we fix it?' Many a sensitive soul has been driven into insanity through anguish of mind because he has never realised what Jesus Christ came to do, and all the asylums in the world will never touch them in the way of healing; the only thing that will is the realisation of what the death of Jesus means, namely, that the damage we have done may be repaired through the efficacy of the cross..."

I'm not adequate to hold my pen properly. But instead of taking it away, Christ hands us our pens back. With our permission, He then wraps His calloused hand over our's, placing nib to the page. He guides the lines, all the while gently wiping off our black stain from the others we've splashed our mistakes upon. Sentences are bleached out and white-washed through grace. The paragraphs begin anew. There can be no absolute mistakes when Christ redeems. And that's why we were never given erasers.

"Jesus Christ has atoned for all, and He can make good in us, not only as a gift but by a participation on our part. The miracle of the grace of God is that He can make the past as though it had never been. He can 'restore...the years that the swarming locust has eaten' (Joel 2:25)."

Success (and Its Misconceptions) – Update 10.17.12

IT'S difficult to separate cultural and familial expectations from the reality of true success. Or, at least I seem to struggle with it. I was home-schooled within an American, upper middle-class family, so success meant a comfortable pay check, social affluence, an impressive education, and the respect of peers. I swallowed what the world had told me to ingest: the American Dream.

So now I wrestle the definition of success every day. You'd think that as a missionary, this wouldn't be a problem for me. After all, I've long since given up the idea of living in my dream loft with towering windows, an exposed brick wall, and hardwood floors. Following God is worth more than that anyway. What I have a more difficult time letting go of the mindset that I must intellectual, witty, poised, well-connected, look mature, etc. in order to be successful. Success is not about a prestigious position. It is not about finding "the one." And it is certainly not about having a flawless missionary career or perfect Christian appearance.

Success like the world demands is useless. It's void. It's crippling. It causes fear of failure to permeate throughout our minds. Because, after all, the pure view of the world's success would demand perfection. And you don't have to look very far in this blog to find my lack of perfection.

My commitment to Youth With A Mission (YWAM) ends in six months. Fear for the future has begun to bloom. I've had to accept that if my life does look like how I assumed it would, that does not mean failure. As long I have been heeding God's pullings and proddings, then I have confidence. Listening to God is not about the fundamentalism of what I should or should not do. It's about trusting in my Jesus – knowing He has never, nor would ever, let me truly fail.


Update — 10.17.12

Wildly enjoying the people of
Louisville again.

I'm home. Back in Louisville again. Having finished my Bible Core Course and communications work in YWAM Perth, I gently closed the door on Australia. While I don't claim to know what God has in the wings for the future, at the moment, I said my soft goodbyes to a beautiful country, filled with even more beautiful people.

I will be home for three months while once again apply for my Religious Worker's visa to the United Kingdom. I will be returning to YWAM Harpenden to teach the Bible. A bit of a lame explanation, but as soon I receive more specific details on what I'll be doing, I'll be sure to update!

Francesca

SOMETHING set her apart from everyone else there. As I saw her hand-roll a cigarette, I knew there was something special about her. A beautiful face with her feminine lips and dark, wavy hair, but she was more than a pretty woman. It was her openness which made her stand out.

We were doing an open-air church service in the middle of a square in an area of Perth known as Northbridge. To start off, we simply gathered together and sang worship songs. Twenty of us and one guitar, we were an interesting sight. I was sitting on a wall, clapping and singing along when I looked over. She was curled up on the steps, cigarette perched elegantly between two fingers, with her head cocked to the side. Unlike most of the people around us, she did not move away when our singing escalated.

Pushing myself off the wall, I walked over and sat beside her. "What do you think of all this?"

"It's amazing! And beautiful. I've never seen anything like this," She relied with accented words. "You'll have to forgive me, my English isn't so good – what are you singing about?"

"Jesus," I said, unable to keep the smile out of my eyes. "We're singing to Jesus."

And that was the subject of the rest of the conversation.

Francesca was from Italy, and had only recently moved to Perth. She explained how she wasn't keen on the idea of church, as she had a detailed view of how the Vatican operated when she was growing up.  The church seemed greedy and hypocritical to her. She recalled how people in her village would go to mass simply to show others they were attending church.

"For the first time in years," she said. "I saw a preacher pray with his family before eating in the restaurant I work at the other day. I remember when my mother and I did this when I was little. It's a big thing to believe in God, it's hard to know what is true. But I want to know what is true."

Bundled up in our coats and scarves, we listened to the rest of the open-air church service. I kept asking her questions along the way. After another missionary named Elias joined the conversation, we sat out in the Australian winter discussing everything from why bad things and people are allowed to exist to how people seem able to change without God. We talked about His love, His redemption, and His power.

"I think I am here, talking to you for a reason," she declared, dashing out her cigarette on the pavement.

"We think so too. God has put you here to hear this. Would you like to make a decision to follow Him?"

She was hesitant, but nodded. "I don't know what to say though. My English – not so good at...expressing."

Elias said that she could simply repeat after us. So, the three of us bowed our heads as he led her in a prayer. The moment she said amen, she began laughing. I looked up to see tears glinting in her eyes as she offered me a high-five and exclaimed, "I don't know why, but I'm so happy! I feel so good! I'm so happy, more than I've ever been before!"

We laughed and celebrated with her. After all, she was someone we would now see in eternity. We explained it was the Holy Spirit, God now living within her, which caused her to feel so elated. We gathered her contact number, promising to meet again for coffee and bring her a Bible. And as she trotted off to meet her friends, Elias and I bounced up and down, thanking God.

As it turned out, Francesca was as special as I thought her to be from the beginning. Though, I am positive it was God who took note of her first. I just had the honour of seeing her as He did.

Not So Different – Update 7.30.12

"Those girls on the steps," Patrick said, pointing them out. They were illuminated by the flickering white lights of the square's screen, still wrapped up in their school uniforms despite it being about seven in the evening. I hesitated. To be honest, teenagers make me rather nervous. I feel like I have difficulty connecting with people my own age; teenagers seem even more elusive to me. Nonetheless, we don't share the message of Jesus based on how comfortable it makes us.

Beth walked right up and introduced who we were: missionaries from a Christian organisation, open to answering questions about God. I cringed, waiting for their scoffs. They never came. Rather, one of the girls, who I later learned was named Celia, smiled. They invited us to sit down and talk with them on the steps. I made a joke about the hot chocolate shop where one of the girls had gotten her drink, and they laughed openly. They were interested in our words and our stories. Munching on their bacon and cheese hamburgers, we chatted.

"What made you know God was real?" Celia asked.

Beth traced out the story of her testimony, relaying how when she was college, things came to a head, and she needed to know whether what she believed was true or not. She also explained how she learned how to hear God's voice.

Farah, the other girl who had put her hamburger aside in favour of the conversation, asked, "But, what about all the awful things that happen in the world? How could God allow that?"

"We ought not blame God for the evil things which people do," I said. "He doesn't stop bad things, because that would mean controlling us. A loving God wouldn't control our every action, just like a loving parent wouldn't control their child's every action."

"Yeah," Farah said. "I guess you're right about that."

Our conversation was cut short by a text from Celia's dad. They said they had to go, but thanked us. As we waved goodbye, I remembered when I was in high school. I wasn't that much different from them: preparing for college, nervous for the future, open to hearing new ideas. Suddenly, they didn't seem so hard to relate to. I can only hope that short, fifteen minute conversation got them thinking about more than what the world had laid before them.


Update — 7.30.12
The last four weeks have been a hurricane of study. At the moment I am taking part in an intensive Bible course, which is essentially three months of mini seminary. I spend anywhere from three to six hours a day in class (with the exception of Sundays), anywhere from four to seven hours a day doing homework, with ministry and print work on the side. And I had thought I was doing a lot before.

The Bible Core Course Class of 2012

With that said however, I thrilled to be getting to know my Bible better. Being someone who loves to gather information, I've discovered the Bible is so much more than simply knowledge. The Bible was not written to satisfy curiosity. Rather, it was given to sanctify my life and the world. D.L. Moody said, "The Bible was not given for our information, but for our transformation." This quote has altered my view of the Bible in every way.

Our class has been asked to lead a service at a local church here in Australia. It will be a chance to apply all the skills we have been learning. Likewise (and Lord willing), I will continue to use these skills, as I have the opportunity to teach the Bible at local churches when I head back to England in October.

Until then, I'll continue to study my brains out.