Go. I can't shake this thought, even though it's really hard for me to dwell on right now:
Jesus hung on that cross to take more than my own sins. He also hung there to carry the sins of others that hurt me deeply. And in that same instant, He hung there to carry the pain and sorrow I feel because of those sins against me.
In the very same moment, He held both. Wept for both. Bore the eternal burden of both.
So that both of us could be free.
Done.
Men---all few of you who read my blog---can I talk to you for just a minute? I'll be quick, I promise. The way you love your wife shows her the way Christ loves her. What?! Too much pressure for a fallen man?! I didn't say it; God did. "Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the Church..."
Your wife will believe and experience Christ's love for her only to the degree that she believes and experiences your love for her. God can miraculously work in anyone's heart and life, and women with very ungodly husbands can certainly still experience intimacy with Christ. But God puts the responsibility on you to show your wife how much God loves her.
Help your wife believe that Christ thinks she's valued, treasured, and adored today.
How many times have I said, "I never want to be like that" or "I don't ever want to do things the way that person does them"? More times than I can count. But it's not enough for me to say I don't want to do something.
I can hate something---truly loathe an attitude or action---but if all I do is think about the fact that I don't want to do that same thing, I'm not doing enough. I need to proactively think through what I will replace it with. Otherwise with all my mental space focusing on what I don't want to do, when I find myself in that situation, that very thing is probably going to be my first reaction.
Instead, I need to think about what I should do in its place.
I need to take more time to process through the things I've seen and experienced that I dislike and that I swear I don't want in my own life. I need to take it one step further and discover for myself what I will replace those things with, by using common sense, God's Word, and the input of those I trust and respect.
It's not enough to just say "I'll never do that!" I need to determine what I will do.
My sin hurts everybody. I like to convince myself that it only affects me, but that's the farthest from the truth. Try as I might, the ripple effect of sin never stops at just me; it always impacts others.
I can hide it, sugarcoat it, or ignore it, but the nasty truth remains: Sin is sin and sin hurts.
Christians have the biggest buts.
I would like to get involved, but...
I wish I could do more, but...
I'd love to, but...
I know God wants me to, but...
Get off your but and do something already.
Late for his flight, the businessman ran through the airport with his briefcase in one hand and his trench coat folded over his other arm. In his haste, he barely noticed the boy leaning against the wall. The blind boy held a tray of apples. In one corner of the tray was a tin cup filled with change. The boy pleasantly called out, "Apples for sale!" The man heard him and glanced in the boy's direction, but never slowed his pace. He had to catch that flight to make it to his deal-breaking business meeting. As he ran passed the boy, his trench coat knocked the corner of the tray and it fell right out of the boy's hands. The apples bounced and rolled through the corridor; the change made a loud ruckus as it spread out all over the floor; the tin cup landed with a loud thud. The tray fell upside down a few yards away.
The businessman registered what happened and glanced back to see the blind boy getting down on his hands and knees to find his belongings. But he could only think of how detrimental it would be to his company if he missed his flight, so he kept running toward the gate.
The boy felt his way over to his tray and turned it upright. He scoured the floor for his cup and coins and apples. The man looked over his shoulder and the scene unfolding before him finally registered with his heart. He stopped dead in his tracks and tuned around. He walked briskly back to the child.
"I am so sorry," he said as he helped round up the apples. "I'm sorry that I thought what I needed to do today was more important than you are. I'm sorry for knocking over your tray in my rush and for not stopping right away to help you." He put all the coins back into the tin cup and loaded everything back onto the tray. He helped the boy stand upright and placed the heavy tray in his hands.
He dug in his wallet and pulled out some cash. "I'm putting $100 in your cup. I really am sorry for thinking you weren't as valuable as I am. Can you ever forgive me?"
The boy, though blind, looked directly into the man's eyes and asked, "Are you the Jesus I always hear about?"
Recently someone told me I seemed European. When my face scrunched up into a question mark, he explained:
"You're so confident and self-assured. You're not insecure like most American women seem to be."
I about choked on my breadstick. I wanted to look over my shoulder and find the woman he was really talking to, because there's no way that description fits me. Definitely the wrong size. Send it back for a refund!
I laughed and said, "Really?!" My voice went up about 6 octaves at the end of that one word. (I was dripping with European self-assuredness!)
While I still think what he said was a bit far-fetched---he's not called Jack the Wack for nothin'---I also know that others see in me things I don't see in myself. Even more, I know that God sees in me so much more than I see in myself.
I want eyes to see those things.
Not so I can pat myself on the back. Or walk with my chest out. (Although I could definitely use better posture.) Or even so I can feel better about myself.
I want eyes to see those things because He put them in me. And to ignore them, or worse, never even uncover them, would be a slap in His face.
Today I am praying, "Lord, help me to realize the truth about myself, no matter how beautiful it is."
Abraham (of Old Testament fame) has been hailed the father of faith because of his sheer obedience to God on countless occasions. One of my favorite examples is when God tells him to "Leave your country, your people, and your father's household, and go to the land I will show you." Abraham responded with eyes of faith and feet of obedience: He "left, as the Lord had told him." Without even knowing where God was sending him, he packed up all his belongings and convinced his wife that they were moving out. (Imagine that conversation?!)
At some point in the journey, God's directions got a little clearer. (Forward motion brings clarity of vision.) "They set out for the land of Canaan." As he followed faithfully, Abraham got more details on where he was headed.
Let's back up a little bit. Just before this story unfolds, another story wraps up. Abraham's dad, Terah, embarked on a similar journey years before. "Terah took his son... his grandson...and his daughter-in-law, and together they set out... to go to Canaan."
God sent Terah to Canaan; Terah heard and obeyed. At least initially. He set out to go to Canaan, but he never made it. "When they came to Haran, they settled there." Terah gave up too soon. I'm sure the road was long and hard, the desert sun scorching hot, and the distance just too great. So he opted to settle in Haran instead of pushing on. Maybe Terah planned to just rest for a while. I can almost hear him: "Let's regroup, gather some new supplies, and then we'll head back out." But life in Haran was comfortable; it was too hard to leave. "Terah...died in Haran."
When we settle, we stagnate.
Knowing all this, I read God's command to Abraham a little differently. "Leave your... father's household, and go to the land I will show you." God was asking him---challenging him---to leave behind his father's way of thinking. To intentionally leave his comfortable place of "settlement" and walk through the difficult desert. Abraham left behind more than his country and his father's household; he left behind his settlement mentality.
He set out for Canaan. And he arrived there.
I'm looking in my heart to find all the places I've set up camp. I need to shake the dust off my feet and keep moving forward, away from the places I know I've settled for less than what God has called me to.
It's moving day.
A while ago, I spent some time thinking about what it means to "just add light" to my life.
All too often I get caught up focusing on all the things I need to change about myself. I get so bogged down in the murky waters of the "old" that I'm in the process of taking off, that it's hard to see the "new" that I'm supposed to be putting on. I think more about the lies that have made their nests in my heart than about the truth God says about me.
The parallel between physical and spiritual is there: To dispel darkness, all you must do is introduce light. I don't have to negotiate with darkness; I don't need to analyze just how dark it actually is, to come up with the best strategy to get rid of it. I simply add light, and darkness leaves.
Adding light takes intentionality and effort on my part. I need to turn my focus elsewhere, shift my gaze, keep the cross in my line of sight. The Christian walk isn't called a walk for nothing. I cannot passively grow in Christ; following is an action-packed verb.
But...
Sometimes I can do nothing except ask God to say to my heart, "Let there be light."
There are times when I have not the strength nor the wisdom to do anything but ask. I know what happened the first time God spoke those powerful words. I wonder what might happen if I invite Him to say them to my heart.
We are called to reflect God's glory. Have you ever seen a body of water that's so still and smooth, it looks like glass? I have; it's pristine, beautiful, peaceful. And it perfectly reflects the sky above it and landscape around it, like a mirror.
That's the image I've always had when I think about my life reflecting the glory of God. But the problem is that I rarely feel like a smooth, glassy lake. My life---my heart---is much more tumultuous than that.
And then I realized something: God can miraculously use even the stormy sea of my life to reflect His glory.
He's not waiting for all the conditions to be perfect, for me to be smooth and ripple-free, or for the rhythmic waves of my life to cease. Nope. In fact, He gets even more glory when I reflect Him amid the strong currents and perfect-storm waves.
That means being able to pray things like ---
"In the midst of this sorrow and grief, position me to reflect as much of Your glory as possible."
"If You can get glory from my sickness, then go ahead and do it."
"Be glorified in me right in the midst of this situation and not just in my deliverance from it."
I'm working hard to get my heart to a place where I can do that. Where I can pray it, believe it, mean it. This much I know is true: God can leverage anything for His glory if I will surrender it to Him.
A few weeks ago we spent a few days with a great friend. She is a talented musician and an anointed worship leader. Over dinner one night, we talked about songwriting and she shared with us some great advice she was given years ago by Amy Grant. (I know---how amazing is that?!)
Simply, yet so profound. I immediately started thinking about how that principle applies to writing---to all forms of communication and expression, really.
When I write from some false position of arrivedness or from the high of my former "glory days", the value of my words are diminished. But when I write with transparency and authenticity, from where I really am, my words bear genuine influence. When I can honestly see and share what's happening in my life, instead of denying it (both to myself and others), then I'm more able to grasp what God is actually trying to show and teach me.
What do you consider the most challenging part of "writing from where you are"? Where would you say you are right now?
I was asked a very interesting question this past week.
Should trust be earned or automatically given?
My instinctive, emphatic reply was that trust should be earned, although I felt like the correct, or spiritual, answer was that it should be given. But I didn't really know why.
I was pointed to a verse that says very simply: Love always trusts.
How have I never noticed that before? It's in the famous "love chapter" for crying out loud. I've seen it. Read it. Underlined it. But I never stopped to even think about what I was so busy Amen-ing. Love always trusts? Isn't that what we call... naive? Gullible? A sucker?
He broke it down for me a little further: "I should always give trust. You should have to earn my distrust." Some people automatically earn your distrust (like the drunk guy on the street asking for food money), but otherwise trust should always be given. Making someone need to earn it, need to prove themselves, means making them work for my love.
This love-always-trusts stew has been simmering in my brain ever since. Automatically giving trust means setting myself up to be hurt, disappointed, let down. It means opening the door for trust to be broken even more than it already so often is. Does this line of thinking mean I'm cynical? Skeptical? Hard-hearted?
What do you think?
The last of the series... Maintain a teachable spirit. A humble leader is a learner. When asked what skill would be best in a staff member, I've always said "teachability". When someone has a teachable spirit, their fault and flaws don't seem as hard to deal with. Although I've lived here for ten years, I still have much to learn. As often as we can, Niel and I spend time with other ministry leaders. We ask questions, we listen well, we ask for advice. We are learners first, leaders second. In the seasons where my learning has slowed up or even stopped due to busyness or arrogance, my leadership always takes a nosedive.
Burnout is real. A burned-out leader no longer leads; she just maintains. I know this all too well. My wick has been burning on both ends for far too long. I have a lot of theories and even practices I've done over the years to prevent burnout, but nothing with enough consistency and commitment to really make an impact. I'm in a place of being tired and drained, and I know---I know---I'm no longer leading the way I should be, the way God wants me to be. I'd appreciate your prayers for inner strength and true rest.
How teachable are you? (How do you handle correction?) What insights or thoughts do you have for battling burnout in full-time ministry?
It's been a while... If you missed lessons one, two, and three, be sure to head back and read 'em. Develop your team. You won’t develop outwardly if you’re not developing inwardly. We've made development a high priority; it's one of our ministry's core values. We constantly look for strategic opportunities to develop our staff and interns. For my own development, I read a lot---books and blogs of ministry leaders. I also listen to and/or watch teachings by leaders I learn a lot from, like Andy Stanley, Craig Groeschel, and Steven Furtick.
Let your team know they have freedom to fail. Make new mistakes rather than repeating old ones. I am a perfectionist. And very detail-oriented. So this lesson is one I'm constantly needing to remind myself of: Mistakes are okay. I'm more intolerant of my own failures than those of others, yet I know I always need to better guard my response to others' mess-ups. I'm learning the benefit of making new mistakes, because of all the lessons and opportunities they hold for me. As long as I'm learning from them, I need to be ok with my shortcomings.
Don’t hold things with a closed fist. We’re called to be stewards, not owners. Niel and I are both strong givers, so this one is maybe easier for us than for many. At least 10% of all our general ministry income goes out to support other ministries and missionaries. And because of how far we've come, and all the "lack" we've endured over the years, we naturally take good care of what we have. At times it causes frustration in us when we see others on our team treating things with recklessness or disrespect. While we continually challenge them to be good stewards, we can't expect them to remember what it was like when we didn't have much.
Do it afraid. Fear paralyzes, but courage shrugs its shoulders and takes a step anyway. I'd say that most of the time, I don't feel strong/brave/prepared/qualified enough to do what I'm doing. In Angie's comment, she asked how many times I've been tempted to give up. A lot!
Lack of finances, skills, time, and faith have all made me think, at one point or another, that I just can't do this anymore. And then God, in His faithfulness, uses circumstances, people, His Word, or His peace to bring my heart back around again.
I wish my faith didn't waiver as much as it did. I wish I could say I am a courageous leader who is always sure of her steps and confident in what she's doing. I wish I was never tempted to give up. But if I'm honest, none of that is true.
And like a consumer I've been thinking If I could just get a bit more More than my fifteen minutes of faith Then I'd be secure My faith is like shifting sand Changed by every wave My faith is like shifting sand So I stand on grace
Here are some more thoughts on lessons I've learned in the past ten years of ministry in Africa. Do what only you can do. Spend your time and energy on that which makes you the strongest asset to your team. Delegation has always been hard for me. I am a perfectionist, and very detail-oriented... so it's hard for me to pass things off to others. For a long time, we didn't have "others" to pass them off to, and I got very comfortable juggling so many things on my own. As our team grew, I learned (slowly) to equip my teammates to help carry the load.
I made a list of the things I want to spend my time doing, and the things that "only I can do" so that when we had the right people, I could start passing things off. Something "only I can do" is be the "face" of the ministry for our partners back in the States (with Niel, of course). Yes, I could have someone else write our newsletters or write email replies to our supporters. But I don't want to. I want to continue having personal contact with the people who make our ministry possible. So I still personally reply to every email we get from our supporters (not always very speedily, although I sure try!). And while I now have some assistance in this area, I still write the final copy for our newsletters, printed letters, brochures, website, etc. It represents us, so I am heavily involved in what the ministry puts out in writing.
We still don't have enough staff for me to only do what only I can do. But we're definitely miles ahead of where we were even just 18 months ago. I probably spend about 40-50% of my time doing what I love and feel specifically called to do. The rest of my time is still spent in other areas. Right now, the 80/20 principle seems impossible, but it is something I am working toward: Spending 80% of my time doing what makes me the strongest asset to our team and ministry, and spending the remaining 20% on the have-to's that I can't avoid being involved in.
Give authority with responsibility. Trust your team; they have strengths in areas you don’t. This is as hard for me as delegation is. I need to constantly remember that just because someone does something differently than I would, it doesn't make it wrong. I have to work hard at times to keep my attitude in check when I know a "better way". I need to get more big-picture oriented and get my brain out of the details sometimes. As long as the end result is right, the means of getting there shouldn't matter.
When it's painfully obvious that someone is better than me at something, it's easier to trust them to do the job. It's when I think I could do it better that I really need to work hard at fully letting go. Trust is something that is a challenge for me, both personally and with ministry responsibilities, but I've grown a lot in the area of trusting our team. We are blessed with some high-caliber staff members and interns who continue to blow me away with their giftedness. They've been a huge part of me learning to let go and trust others to get the job done.
Here are more personal thoughts about some of the lessons I've learned in the past ten years. Get clarity on your vision, and stick to it. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. When we first started out, we began by meeting the needs we saw around us. Of course there were many, and we quickly found ourselves doing a whole lot. Actually, what we were doing was very little in a whole lot of areas. While this was borne out of compassion, we realized that by spreading ourselves to thinly, we were being neither strategic nor effective. Andy Stanley's book, Visioneering, helped us clearly define exactly what God was calling us to do as a ministry. That meant stopping programs we were running because they were not in line with that vision. It was a difficult but rewarding time of refinement in our ministry. At times, it's still not easy to say "no" to things that seem like they'd be great to be involved in. But knowing we are focusing our time, energy, and resources to accomplish what God's called us to certainly makes it easier.
Everyone should know the vision. Momentum in ministry only occurs when everyone’s clear where you’re headed. This is one we are still actively working on. We try to reinforce our vision and core values as often as we possibly can---as we lead staff meetings, as we talk strategy, as we bring correction. We share it with every team that comes through our ministry; we want them to see how their short-term trip ties in with the overarching vision to train Godly leaders. We also try to consistently convey the vision to our supporters and partners around the world. We've never wanted people to give to us because of an emotional pull; we want them to give because they know, believe in, and support the vision God's given us for reaching Southern Africa.
The right people make all the difference. A strong team multiplies ministry effectiveness. Like most of our lessons, we learned this one the hard way. On the mission field, and probably in any ministry, the needs are so great and there are never enough hands. That urgency and desperation led us to take on anybody and everybody who wanted to come and "do something" in Africa. We've gotten a lot more focused in our process of bringing on staff members; some people think we actually make it "too hard" for people to join our team. While our aim isn't to make it difficult, we want the process to be slow and thorough enough so both sides know clearly that it's truly a God-thing before someone makes a long-term move.
I'd love to hear your thoughts and input on all these. And if any questions pop into your mind, feel free to ask... Also---What lessons are you learning lately?
I recently blogged about some of the lessons I've learned in my first ten years of ministry. A friend asked me to share some of my personal history with those things, and I plan on writing a few posts in response to her comment. But I need to start off by clarifying that when I say "lessons learned" I certainly don't mean "lessons mastered". Every single thing I listed is something I still struggle with in some way or another. I'm often hesitant to share things I've learned because although my sharing always comes from a place of journeying, not of arriving, somehow there is the implication in those words that I've figured it out. Hear me: I haven't.
But the other side of that same coin is that I believe there is value in speaking from a point of brokenness. Being a missionary doesn't make my life unrelatable to yours. I face similar struggles and challenges, and I write from that place, not from the awkward, lofty pedestal people often put missionaries on.
I recently spoke with someone about helping her deal with some issues in her life. I told her, "You need to know that I don't have any training in counseling or any experience in dealing with things like this. But I'm willing to walk that road with you, to figure it out with God's help as we go along." Her response was wonderful. "I think that's actually what I need. I don't want someone just telling me how to fix my life; what I need is someone willing to walk alongside me in this. I think I will get more out of that kind of help than I would from some professional whom I write a check to at the end of our meeting."
Her words seemed to sum up my thoughts on the perspective I have when I write. I'm next to you on the road, not miles ahead simply because I'm a missionary.
I've discovered that the expectations I often feel from others are ones that many place on anyone in ministry. Yes, we are to "practice what we preach", "walk the talk", and not tell others to do what we ourselves aren't doing. But---and this is a big but---if we expect people to only share what they've mastered, there would be much silence in this world. We will never arrive. Never. Expecting that of anyone, especially those in ministry, only adds undue pressure and burden to their lives.
Remember the humanity of the missionaries, pastors, and leaders you know. Just like yours, our lives are filled with more grit than glory. And since I'm trying to develop more authenticity and transparency in my life, that means the more you get to know me, the more grit you'll see. While that thought makes me cringe, deep down I know it's a good thing.
I heard this the other day, and it's been running laps around my brain ever since:
"Sometimes it's easier to feel guilty than forgiven."
Sadly, that is all-too-often true in my own life. It seems easier to cling to my mistakes, my shortcomings, my depravity than it is to embrace the forgiveness and freedom that He has for me. Effort is required to make that exchange, and---honestly---sometimes I'd just rather not put in the effort. How pathetic is that? Especially since He already did the hard part.
God's power has no effect in my life if I don't choose to receive it and rely on it. That means not necessarily doing what is easier, but what is better. I don't want to nullify His power because of my apathy, laziness, or ignorance. Today I'm choosing to pull myself up by my imaginary bootstraps and embrace what God has already provided for me. Easier or not.
Even more lessons from my first 10 years of ministry that I'm taking with me into my second decade...