A Good Quote

The ministry of evangelization is an extraordinary opportunity of showing gratitude to Jesus by passing on His gospel of grace to others. However, the "conversion by concussion" method, with one sledgehammer blow of the Bible after another, betrays a basic disrespect for the dignity of the other and is utterly alien to the gospel imperative to bear witness. To evangelize a person is to say to him or her, You, too, are loved by God in the Lord Jesus. And not only to say it but to really think it and relate it to the man or woman so they can sense it. This is what it means to announce the Good News. But that becomes possible only by offering the person your friendship- a friendship that is real, unselfish, without condescension, full of confidence, and profound esteem.

-Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel

I have nothing to add.

Limitations Can Be a Good Thing

Today at a meeting of our church's Core Team, I realized a couple of things that I wanted to share.

It started when one person mentioned that she wants to be more involved but right now she just can't because she's working on a master's degree. I looked around the table and thought about the members of our Core Team. We are all married, and many of us have young children. Some have full-time jobs, some are stay-at-home moms, some are in school.

I realized that every single one of us have things in our lives that mean that, individually, we simply cannot do all we want to do regarding our church. All of us have other things, important things, that also require our time and attention. We all do what we can, of course, but none of us are capable of doing it all.

I've spent so much time feeling guilty because I can't do everything I want to do and be involved in everything I want to be involved in. And today I realized that nobody can. It's not just me! You have no idea what a relief this is. I feel like a huge burden has been lifted.

But I realized something else. I don't think any of us are meant to be capable of doing everything we want to do. If we were, we wouldn't need each other. Our limitations foster community and dependence on each other- and that is a wonderful thing!

Fear and Uncertainty

This is an excerpt from a post I wrote a little over two years ago while reading Shane Claiborne's The Irresistible Revolution. These same thoughts have been on my mind again, so I thought I'd re-post them:

How often do most of us actually go out and intentionally place ourselves among the impoverished or homeless or suffering? Giving to charity is a great thing, of course, but it's also a very sterile, keep-your-hands-clean way of helping others. In the book I'm reading, Shane asks how it might change the world if Christians start living like Jesus actually meant the things he said. Instead of keeping ourselves as separated as we can from people who are in need, why not move out of our comfort zones and spend time among them, as Jesus did? If God incarnate chose to spend his time on earth living among the poor, sick, and suffering, why aren't God's followers doing the same? Somehow I don’t think merely living in the same world, state, or city as them is really what Jesus was talking about. He had relationships with people in need.

I must admit, two years later I am still struggling with this. I believe, as much as I did then, that forming actual relationships with people in need is critical. But I don't feel that I've made much progress in forming those relationships myself. I've been asking myself why this is, and I could give myself the excuse that I don't have much time that I am able to go out among people in need. That's true; I think it becomes more difficult with children in tow, even to volunteer. But while it's true, it is still an excuse; it's not the whole truth and I know it.

The biggest reason I struggle in this area is fear. I am afraid of unintentionally doing or saying something hurtful or offensive. I'm afraid of making people feel worse. I'm afraid of looking like I'm some privileged white girl taking on the poor as though they're a quaint little project.

And another very real reason: I just don't know how to start. I'm shy, I often feel awkward, I have a hard time speaking up and letting people get to know me. If I have a hard time initiating and forming relationships with people I am likely to encounter all the time, then how in the world am I going to initiate relationships with people that I do not encounter all the time? That is a serious question, not a rhetorical one. Truth be told, I don't know how to start. I'm pretty sure I can't just go into the lower income areas of town, knock on people's doors, and say, "I want to get to know you." That is a little strange.

It all comes down to this: I really, truly DO want to get to know people who are in need, to form relationships with them, to really get to know them. But I am paralyzed by my fear and uncertainty, and I don't know how to move past those things.

Poverty Guidelines for 2009

As I said yesterday, 15.7%, or almost 15,000 people in Bradley County are in poverty. Here is a closer look at what that means.

The first number is the number of people in the family; the second is income. So for my family, a family of four, if we made $22,050 or less per year we would be considered to be in poverty.

1- 10,830
2- 14,570
3- 18,310
4- 22,050
5- 25,790
6- 29,530
7- 33,270
8- 37,010
For families with more than 8 persons, add $3,740 for each additional person.
http://aspe.hhs.gov/POVERTY/09poverty.shtml

Let's Change the World One Little Act of Love at a Time

In looking up poverty statistics, I discovered that 15.7% of people in the county I live in are at or below the poverty level. Nearly fifteen thousand of our neighbors- men and women, children, the elderly- are impoverished. And that is just in Bradley County, Tennessee.

Upon looking at the numbers more, I determined that for every person in Bradley County who is in poverty, 5 people are not. So then I asked myself a few questions...

What are the people who are not in poverty-- about 80,000 of them total-- doing to help those who are? I am not in poverty; what am I doing to help those who are?

If five people share some of what they have with one person, wouldn't the needs, and even some wants, of all 6 be met?

I know you are probably going to call me a socialist now, but I'm really not. I have read the quote, "When I feed the poor, they call me a saint, but when I ask why the poor are hungry, they call me a communist." I'll be very clear: I do not believe the solution to the problem of poverty can be found in government-mandated redistribution of wealth. No, I believe it is much more personal than that. Imagine with me for a moment... what if people would truly turn their hearts to each other... what if people really loved their neighbors, all their neighbors, as much as they love themselves... what if people who have more than they need would voluntarily give to those who are in poverty, not out of a sense of obligation but out of love? Wouldn't we be able to make a huge dent in poverty around the world? Wouldn't we all be more in community with each other? Imagine the impact on crime, if all people's needs, and some of their wants, were met, and if people really demonstrated love and community!

Okay, now let's step out of the realm of idealism and back into reality. This is not something that we can "make" happen. Redistribution can be mandated, but love cannot. And I truly believe love is the key. Paul wrote about this in 1 Corinthians 13; we can do all sorts of things, good things, but if we don't have love, what is it really worth? What difference does it really make?

I am not saying that I have love all figured out and perfected. I don't, not even close. But I know that I believe in it, and that I am trying. I want to love others as I love myself, and I want to encourage other people to do the same. Jesus said the kingdom of God is like a tiny mustard seed that grows into a tree, or a little bit of leaven that is worked into flour until the whole thing is leavened. It's something small, but it spreads and grows rapidly and changes everything it touches. And that is how true love for our neighbors is, I think. It may start small, with just a few people, but it grows and spreads rapidly, and changes everything it touches.

Will you join me in loving others?

Stop the Lifeboat, I Want Out

I am still reading Donald Miller, although I have finished Blue Like Jazz and have moved on to Searching For God Knows What. In this book he speaks of a "lifeboat mentality," where basically throughout life we are operating as though we are all on a lifeboat and someone has to be thrown overboard, so we are trying to decide who is worthy and who isn't. And in the process we are trying to move ourselves up higher, justify ourselves and show that we are better than others. We are looking for redemption from our peers, rather than from God.

What's funny is I read all of this about a day after I had started pondering some things about myself. One, that I often base my sense of whether I am special or valuable on my perception of whether other people think I'm special or valuable. And two, a lot of the time I try do or believe certain things not because I wholeheartedly embrace them, but because I want to find my identity in them and gain acceptance from the people who do wholeheartedly embrace them.

Then I opened up this book, and there's Donald Miller saying that we look to other people to tell us who we are and what we are worth, instead of finding our identity and our value in God.

Yet, for some reason, the fact that God values me greatly didn't make me feel much better about it all; it sort of felt like the phrase "a face only a mother could love." You know, everyone else may dislike me or think I'm weird, but hey, Jesus loves me so it's all good. The thought that God loves and values me didn't feel as comforting as being loved and valued by people. That is horrible, I know, but I am being honest. That's how I felt.

Then I thought that maybe the reason it doesn't feel all that comforting is because I am approaching it all from the lifeboat mentality Miller speaks of; when other people affirm me and tell me who I am, there's a chance to move up, a chance to be more special than others. But God doesn't operate like that; God values me just the same as everyone else; with God I am no worse, and no better, than anyone else. There's no edging my way up, no hierarchy of importance. And it struck me then how firmly entrenched I have become in the lifeboat mentality.

I talk a good game about loving everyone equally and all people being valuable, and I do believe that, but somehow when it comes down to applying it, I am still struggling.

So I started thinking about how I would live if I truly operated out of the belief that everyone is equally valued, that I am no better or worse than anyone else, and no one is any better or worse than me. Jesus did not operate under the sham of a popularity contest, and so I think I probably am not supposed to either.

I think that, perhaps, if I can escape the lifeboat mentality I will be able to see the beauty of each individual, myself included; maybe I can be confident in my own skin, in my own beliefs, in my own talents, and appreciate the person God created. He didn't create me to be anyone else, he created me to be me. And perhaps I will also be able to celebrate people's unique differences, rather than comparing myself to them to see where I stand.

And I think that our equal value before God means not only that we are all equally beautiful, but that we are also equally broken. The specific things we struggle with may be different, but we are all broken. So, then, there is no room for judging or looking down on others, because I am just as screwed up as they are, and God values them just as much as he values me.

C.S. Lewis wrote this poem, and I identify with it all too well:

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through.
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin;
I talk of love-- a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--
But, self-imprisoned, always end up where I begin.

I'm not really sure how to wrap this up, because honestly, it's not all wrapped up neatly in my head yet either. All I know is that I am more self-focused than I thought I was, that I have unconsciously bought into this lifeboat mentality and it is preventing me from loving people the way I should and living my life the way I should, and I want out of it. I want to trade in the lifeboat for God's way, because it is so much better, but I don't know how.

I don't know how.

Um, did you mean to say pens?

This, friends, is a perfect example of just how important it is to have someone proofread your writing...

On Water

I remember being a young child and riding with my grandfather in his pickup truck. He was my dad's dad, he lived with us, and I called him Papaw (much to my mother's chagrin; she would have preferred that I call him Grandpa or Granddad, but one of her friends always referred to him as my Papaw, and the name stuck).

Each day he'd go out in his truck and make his rounds- coffee (and perhaps donuts if I was with him) and a drive through the cemetery where his father was buried. I'd ride along sometimes and we'd listen to the radio, country music. There was a Randy Travis song that always made me think of him.

If the story's told, only heaven knows,
But his hat seemed to me like an old halo.
And although his wings, they were never seen,
I thought that he walked on water.

He was a good man, simple and kindhearted, but could have a sharp tongue when angry. I was always amused, awed, and a bit frightened when he would say cuss words. Once when I was about seven or eight years old, I hid a whoopie cushion in his chair, which he very unsuspectingly sat upon. I swear he jumped ten feet in the air. I can still hear his gruff voice, grumbling, "What in the hell was that?" as he looked around the room while the rest of us snickered. We actually captured the moment on a home video. I wish we could find that video tape!

He always wore blue work shirts, and when he was going out, a button-up sweater and his red and white Robinson's Building Center cap. He chewed Beech-Nut tobacco, and he had false teeth but I don't think I ever saw him wear them. He'd be awake at all hours of the night, unable to stay asleep for long because of arthritis pain. He'd sit and read Westerns, and was always ready to talk and tell stories to anyone who'd sit with him for a while. He loved to give to others and kept very little money for himself. He never wanted anyone to pay him back; he just wanted people to remember to help others when they were able.

He passed away six years ago, on the first of March. He's buried in that same cemetery under a dignified old tree.

And I loved him, and he loved me,
And Lord, I cried the day he died,
'Cause I thought that he walked on water.

Groaning for Redemption

During Lent, as I have spent much less time online, I have been reading some good books. Right now I'm re-reading Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz. A few nights ago I read this particular excerpt and it resonated with me; I felt as though I could have written it myself:

I wanted to be over this, done with this. I didn't want to live in a broken world or a broken me. I wasn't trying to weasel out of anything, I just wasn't in the mood to be on earth that night.

I have been feeling that more than ever lately. Please don't worry about me; this isn't coming out of a place of depression. It's coming out of a place of reflection, of realizing more and more how broken the world is, how broken I am, and my desire to not live that way anymore.

For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. -Romans 8:22-23