Author Archives: Andy Stoddard

Advent: We Wait in Community by Andy Stoddard

This year for Advent, I’ve been drawn to the concept of waiting. I know that’s a normal Advent theme; in many ways, it is the point of Advent. We remember the centuries that the people waited for the birth of Christ. Now, we wait for His return.

We wait.

Advent teaches us to wait.

In an age of convenience, where waiting is one of the worst “first world” problems we can face, it’s good to be reminded how to wait.

But this year, that waiting seems a little more personal to me; a little more poignant. Maybe it is because of a health crisis last year – kidney cancer, and the removal of a kidney. I’m more in tune now to my body and soul in a way I haven’t been before. I have my yearly check up soon; I know it will be fine. But – still, I wait.

Maybe it’s also the chaos happening within United Methodism. We wait for General Conference. We wait for discernments. We wait for conversations. There’s not a day that goes by where I do not have this conversation multiple times.

We wait.

Right now, you are waiting for something.

I am waiting.

We are all waiting.

When I have to wait on substantive matters, I feel the stress of being in-between. When I feel that stress, my impulse is to pull back.

To pull back from community.

To pull back from family and friends.

To pull back from everyone.

I know isolation is not good for me, for anyone. But in the stress and strain of waiting, that’s where my impulse takes me.

But what did God tell Adam in the garden? “It is not good for a man to be alone” (Genesis 2:18). What is the first word of The Lord’s Prayer? Our Father. Not my Father, your Father, but our Father.

The prayer the Lord taught us to pray was a prayer of community. Our souls crave community, while often, our flesh pushes us away from community. After the Fall, what did Adam and Eve do in the Garden when God was looking for them? They hid (Genesis 3:8).

As you wait for whatever it is you are waiting for, that same impulse of our first parents will whisper to you Pull back. Hide. Keep to yourself. I know that impulse, it flows from deep within me. But it is not God’s design or will.

Remember: it was a community of shepherds who greeted the Lord.

It was a community of Magi who brought Him gifts.

It was a community of disciples who followed Him.

And it is a community of believers who serve Him now. We need community. We need family.We need our people.

Especially as we wait.

Whatever it is you are waiting for, know that you are loved, you have value, and you are not alone -even if you feel like it. You are part of His community.

Even as we wait.

Featured image courtesy Levi Meir Clancy via Unsplash.

A Pastoral Posture Toward Social Media by Andy Stoddard

My undergraduate degree is in chemistry. My desire was to be a doctor, but the Lord had other plans. I’ve sometimes wondered, “Lord, if this was you plan, couldn’t you have led to me to an easier degree?!” But maybe God did that so I could learn one fact that I actually think about a lot: darkness doesn’t actually exist. Darkness is simply what it is not; it is the absence of light. When light enters into the darkness, the darkness no longer remains, because darkness cannot exist where light is.

This must be significant when we think of how many times in the Gospels that Jesus either called himself Light or said that his followers are to be a light. This is a world that has significant darkness to it. As Christians, it is our job to be light, God’s light, in those dark places.

One of the places that may seem the darkest today is social media. All we have to do is look around Facebook or Twitter or any of the other social media sites to see our worst impulses. Name calling, mocking, divisiveness, so many areas of division and darkness. I have many friends who have gotten off social media completely, and I can’t say that I blame them. The Bible warns to us avoid such pointless division. (Titus 3:9 – “But avoid stupid controversies, genealogies, dissensions, and quarrels about the law, for they are unprofitable and worthless.”) So we should all log out and delete our apps, right? Maybe. But maybe not.

As a pastor, as I’ve seen more darkness and division on social media, instead of giving it over to the darkness completely, I’ve felt compelled to shine a little light, especially in the days of COVID, where my friend list will be the largest congregation I preach to. And that is what I’m doing: I preach. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I preach a little different. I may think of it as preaching, though to the average person on social media, it may not look like that. But just like every sermon I preach, I’m trying to point to Jesus, and I do the same with my use of social media. It just may not look or seem like a sermon. Frankly, I think that says more about our sermons than it does about my social media usage.

With my social media presence, I try to do a few different things.

Be transparent. First and foremost, I try to be transparent. About the only compliment I really appreciate is when folks tell me I don’t act like a preacher. What that means is that I just act normally. Folks aren’t used to their preacher acting like a regular person, and we preachers don’t always put down our guard enough to act like normal people (which we are). So, I make fun of myself. I talk about music or wrestling. I make fun of friends. I admit when I’m tired or sad or angry. I post authentic things that are actually happening. It is real. So, when I talk about Jesus, that is the same thing. Real.

Don’t take myself or life too seriously. I want to make people laugh. I believe we’ve all just gotten too self-conscious. I want to “preach” without being preachy or condescending. I never, ever, ever, want to talk down to anyone. We should point to truth with a twinkle in our eye. Many of us have forgotten how to laugh or lost our joy and our ability to find joy in life. I want people to laugh again.

Help people think. This may be my main goal. I try to never tell people what they have to do, or even what they must believe. I remind them of what Christians believe, or what the Bible says, or what our church teaches. I try to help people do their own theological reflection. If you and I impulsively react to everything nowadays, then no one thinks. One of my goals, especially on complicated and controversial issues, is to help people to think for themselves, in light of what Scripture and church teaching show us.

Focus on grace, grace, and more grace. The world is so hard today. We need beauty, we need grace. We need hope. We need peace. I want us to do what Paul wrote in Philippians 4:8 – “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” I want to help us focus on what is good.

John Wesley would go where the people were and preach to them. He preached in the fields, in the streets, wherever they were. That’s how I try to see social media. I want to shine a light: provide some biblical commentary, some laughter, some realism, but always, hopefully, a little light.

The world is dark today and has always been. But there is and has always been light and beauty. That’s the space we should operate from. We have an obligation to shine light on social media and all throughout our lives. We have a call to be salt and light in every area. May it be so.

Featured image courtesy Jon Tyson via Unsplash.

Reacting to the Image of God: Wesley and Worth by Andy Stoddard

I try my best not to get drawn into the hot fire of the cultural moment. One of my great fears for our moment is that we will all become reactionary, driven more by emotions than reason (or if we are religious an overarching theological perspective). We react to culture, we react to others, we react to ourselves. Reacting like this often means that we don’t take time to stop, think, pray, and discern. In seminary, a professor named Dr. Knickerbocker said, “always watch what word we use. Do we say ‘I feel’? Or ‘I think’? Or ‘I believe’?” Our feelings may be valid, and reason is just as fallen and faulty as emotion. But in a reactionary moment, I try to stay non-reactive.

As a follower of Jesus, I’ve found that Wesleyan theology animates how and why I interact with people. One of the greatest theological works ever, in my opinion, is John Wesley’s sermon, “The Scripture Way of Salvation.” In this sermon, Wesley lays out a concept you may be familiar with: his understanding of grace – prevenient, the grace that goes before; justifying, the grace of conversion; and sanctifying, the grace of Christian growth.

There are so many takeaways from his theology but primary to me is the understanding that God is the first and primary actor in our salvation. We do not save ourselves by anything that we can do. God is the first actor. He calls us (prevenient), saves us (justifying), and grows us (sanctifying). Our very salvation is the work of God. In fact, in a recent sermon series on the Apostles’ Creed, we looked at how our very salvation is a Trinitarian act. We are brought to the Father, through the Son, by the Spirit. We are saved only through God’s work.

But here is why this matters in a reactionary culture. Why must God be the first actor? Why does salvation rest on God’s action, not on ours? The reason is original sin, sometimes called the doctrine of depravity. When Adam and Eve fell, they took all of humanity with them. (Romans 5: 12, 1 Corinthians 15: 20-21) This doctrine says that when they fell, we as humans fell with them. We are sinful, corrupt, whatever term or adjective you’d like to use. We are sinful. You. Me. All of us. It is part of the human condition.

Now here is the question. What does that mean? We know all humans are made in the image of God. (Genesis 1: 26-27) But sin has entered in. What does that do to the image of God within us? One theological perspective is that the image of God is completely destroyed: nothing good is left within us. From this perspective, we are completely dead in our sins. Sin destroyed that goodness of God. Yes, we are made in God’s image, but we most certainly are not good. That view is a dominant theme within modern American evangelicalism. As I’ve heard it said, a dead man can’t crawl out of a burning house, and the only thing we deserve is hellfire.

That way of thinking is not how Wesley looked at things. Wesley understood the reality of human sin, yes; but he believed that while the fall corrupted the image of God within us, it didn’t destroy it. Ted Runyan has a wonderful book called The New Creation that covers this subject in-depth. His entire point is that the fall corrupted that image of God within us – it is in need of redemption – but is not completely gone. We humans remain of great worth, and there is the hope for salvation for all. (John 3:16, 1 Timothy 2: 3-4)

This is the reason I am so drawn to Wesleyan theology. Without a doubt, we need salvation. And we are sinful. We can’t save ourselves. But that image of God, while corrupted, has not been completely destroyed. Prevenient grace extends to us an awakening of that image that allows us to walk toward God’s offer of grace.

This cultural moment would teach us to see other people as our enemy. To see people only deserving of judgment, especially those who are not Christians or those who we may disagree with. Those who may vote differently, live differently, act differently. We could easily take on the view of sin that casts them out and removes their worth. It is tempting to harden to our sides; they are over the line, they are on the other side.

Of course, I want to be clear. I believe in sin, judgment, and hell. No one comes to the Father but through the Son. (John 14:6) Sin is destructive; it destroys God’s prize creation, humanity. (John 10:10) This is not an apology for sin. It is a call to love all people in the way that God does. Our societal moment can take from us the desire to truly see the worth in others. The worth in those who are wrong. The worth in those we would see as even our enemies. The path of Christ calls us to love even the enemy. (Matthew 5:43-48; Romans 5:10)

As a follower of Christ and as a pastor, I want to speak against racism and also never discount the potential conversion and sanctification of the racist. And if I am their pastor, I want to be able to hopefully, through God’s grace, help them grow. I want to speak against immorality and also never discount the potential conversion and sanctification of the immoral. And if I am their pastor, I want to be able to hopefully, through God’s grace, help them grow. As a fallen human, my guilt is the same as anyone I preach to. In my calling, I want to hold out hope for redemption to those of infinite worth in the same way I respond to it myself. I never want to discount the worth of people, no matter who they are, what they do, or what they believe. Because everyone is truly loved by God who wants to redeem them.

I want as many people as possible to know the love of Jesus. Some would say that because of their sin, those who do not know Jesus are hostile to him and aren’t interested in knowing God at all. Maybe. But when I read Scripture, I see a lot of people who did not know Jesus but who wanted to know him. And today, I see a lot of people who do not know Jesus and who are very hostile to the Church. But there is still a fascination with Jesus and the Church. There is a yearning spiritually. It’s not surprising; Scripture says God has written eternity on the hearts of men. (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Recently, I read a tweet that caused me to think a lot. By how I love others, do I make hell a more appealing place for folks to want to be than church? I want those who do not know Jesus Christ to be drawn to him and follow him. That is my one true desire for ministry. I want folks of all kinds to know their worth to Jesus. And if I all do is extend a metaphorical middle finger or kick sand in their face, how will know they know Jesus? Because that’s what I want more than anything else: for as many as possible to know Jesus.

I don’t want to get involved in hardening my heart at others, because I want all people, all people, to know Jesus. This world is calling me and you to harden our hearts to others. To write them off. To deem them as enemies. Maybe people in the church are calling us to do that. Maybe even preachers are calling us to do that. But I don’t believe that is right, and it isn’t Wesleyan. In one recent article, the author pointed out that for the first time in history, non-churchgoers make up the majority of the population in America. This is the context we live in now. We can choose to bemoan where we are. We can harden our sides and opinions. We can see our neighbors as our enemy and give up any hope for their redemption. We can harden our opinions, shout the loudest, and condemn the most. But I don’t think that’s the way of Jesus or the way of Wesley. I want as many as possible to know Jesus.

And that starts with each of us knowing our worth in Jesus and seeing others’ worth in Jesus. Even the folks we can’t stand.

Leading Generously: Setting Up a Team for Success by Andy Stoddard

One of the most illuminating things I ever heard about leading generously involved Johnny Carson. For most of my childhood he was host of The Tonight Show: late nights were Johnny Carson at 10:30 and David Letterman at 11:30. They could not have been more different but were each hilarious in their own way. If you go back and rewatch Johnny Carson, you see pretty quickly that comedically, he is the “straight man.” He’s the one who sets up the other person for the laugh. He had a real gift of making the other person look funny. The other people become the ones who get to make everyone double over with laughter. They make the joke, and Johnny sits off to the side, smiling and laughing.

That might not have been obvious to viewers, but in many ways, it was the secret of Johnny Carson’s success – and it’s one of the secrets of leadership. Johnny Carson could play the straight man and make his guests look good because he understood that every joke on The Tonight Show was comedy on his stage, whether he was the one telling the joke or not. He got credit for the laughs, whether they were his quips or not. By being the host, the comedy was his.

That’s what it is like being a Lead or Senior Pastor. Every joke is our joke, so to speak. We get credit for it, even if we didn’t do it. That means that one of the most important jobs that we can do with our team members is to build them up, both publicly and privately.

I always try, to the best of my ability, to pass along the credit for any “victory” that our staff achieves and shoulder the blame for any “defeat” that we may experience. The reality is that every laugh is “my” laugh: if the church is healthy and doing great ministry, I will get the credit whether I deserve it or not. But it is the team that is the key to the “success” of the church. Building up my team publicly and privately is the only way that teams can truly be successful.

This is important because it shows a few things:

It shows how important a good team is. It is so important for churches, especially larger staffed churches, to have a healthy leadership team. It is important for a congregation to understand that the church is more than the Lead Pastor or even their favorite staff person. It is the team that makes victories possible. As a leader, when I model that, I really believe it. It would be easy to bask in the success won by the hard work of my staff. But everyone needs to know that ministry is more than just a Lead pastor; it is the team that makes ministry possible.

It models accountability. In the same way as passing along credit shows the value of the team, taking ownership of failure shows that I don’t consider myself beyond criticism. By taking ownership, I demonstrate that I have my team’s back, and that trying and failing is not the worst thing in the world; it is the only way we get better. I have told my staff many times that “taking a bullet” for the team is sometimes the best way that I can help.

It creates buy-in. When staff members know that they will get credit for victories and protection from defeats, it creates buy-in trust, not just for the leader, but for the system. This is one of the best and first steps any leader can take.

It grows leaders. As a leader, when I model this behavior, I help set a culture that will hopefully produce humble and selfless leaders moving forward.

Of course, there is also liability with this model; if taken too far, it can allow those who are underperforming or not living into their potential to continue in that vein, looking better than they are or never being held accountable. For me, it is important to have someone (Staff-Parish Relations Committee and a coach) hold me accountable to ensuring that I don’t allow dysfunction to set in. Another consideration is that it simply takes time to earn the trust of your congregation; in taking ownership of defeats, as a leader, you need goodwill so that you don’t lose the trust of your people.

In Scripture, Barnabas is the perfect model for this. He was already a key leader in the early church; in Acts 4, we see his first selfless act in selling a field and giving the proceeds to the church. Later he takes on Paul as a mentee and then Mark. He defends, encourages, and then steps back, letting them achieve the great victories for the Kingdom that they attain. His selfless leadership helped produce so much of the New Testament and echoes in the life of every Christian in the world today.

In a world that calls us to always get the laugh, as leaders, let’s learn from Johnny. When we play the “straight man” and others get the laugh, we build a culture of a winning team. When we lead in that way, everyone wins, and the kingdom moves forward.

Featured image courtesy bantersnaps on Unsplash.

Social Media & Holiness by Andy Stoddard

I’ve always been an “early adapter.” I may not be the first person to try a new technology, but I’m not far behind. Following the arrival of the first iPhones, I wasn’t at the Apple Store at midnight for a new release – but I’d show up sometime the next day. So I joined social media early on. As soon as Facebook opened to the public, I signed up. I started a Twitter profile. I even tried Google+.

By and large, I really enjoy social media. I’ve made social media friends who became real friends; I remain in contact with old friends as they move away. Social media allows me to connect with church members and visitors; it allows folks to participate online with church activities. In fact, you could argue that during this season of COVID, social media is indispensable to ministry.

Yet recently I decided to take a break from Facebook. Why? Sometimes my faith is at work when I feel something in my soul that I can’t explain, but I just know it. And I noticed that when I was on social media, I just felt – heavy. A sense of sadness. I couldn’t place my finger on it. At that point, I decided to take a break and continued sorting exactly what it was that I sensed.

One morning while walking, the Holy Spirit gave me some insight.

The reason why I’m a Methodist is not because I was born into it (though I was). The reason I’m a Methodist is John Wesley’s theology. Being a Methodist makes me a better disciple, it makes me a better follower of Jesus. For me, the point of our entire salvation is to recover what sin has corrupted – to recover that image of God within ourselves through sanctification, and recover it in all the world (through the eventual return of Christ).

So then, what does this new creation look like, what does sanctification look like? It is the perfect keeping of the law of God. Scripture tells us to be holy as God is holy. As we grow closer to God and grow through grace, that image of God will be recovered, and we will more resemble our Savior. Well, what does it look like to keep his law? What does it mean to be holy? Jesus tells us in Matthew 22: 36-40:

“Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

The entire law is summed up in those two commands – love God and love neighbor. This is what holiness looks like: to allow the love of God to so consume us that our sins are driven out as we are filled with God’s love. As I understand Wesley, he was focused more on perfect love than perfect action, because complete, perfected love will lead to unsullied intent. If I perfectly love God, I will not take his name in vain, I will honor the Sabbath. If I perfectly love my neighbor, I will not murder my neighbor, I will not bear false witness against her.

To talk of loving God and neighbor is literally to talk about the very goal and purpose of our salvation. It is the very nature of holiness. It is what we are created for and what our sanctification drives us towards.

And that was what felt heavy about social media. In this season, Facebook was no longer a place of loving God and loving neighbor. If we take God’s commands seriously, if we take the law and teachings of Jesus seriously, we cannot live in a way that tears down not only fellow believers, but fellow humans, day after day.

As a pastor, each verbal attack, each biting meme, each political wresting match showed me the great need all of us have for continued sanctification. As I thought through it, I began to see that this was not contributing to my holiness. Social media was not helping me love my God and my neighbor better.

While social media itself didn’t cause me to sin, it did cause me to grow discouraged, to pray less, and to worry more. It caused me to despair because so many Christians are allowing this cultural moment, rather than our desire for holiness and sanctification, to be the force that dictates our thoughts, our passions, our posts, and our words.

Let me be clear: I’m not calling for a dispassionate, milquetoast existence with no beliefs or morals. Far from it. If you read Wesley, he shared quite strong opinions in his writing, about poverty, slavery, and even the American Revolution. This is not a call to ambivalence on moral matters. But it is a call to the path of Jesus, who calls us to love not just our neighbors but to love even our enemies. If we follow the commands and teachings of Jesus, we have no choice.

I’ve been teaching on the book of James during my online Wednesday night Bible study. There is a passage that stuck with me.

“You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” James 2:8

It prompts me to consider legalism. Think of all the things we tend to be legalistic about in lives. Maybe it’s your language, what you eat or drink, what you watch or listen to. To put it one way, as Christians, many of us have legalisms in our lives; to put it another way, many of us have moral codes.

What if we were legalistic – about keeping that royal law? What if we were legalistic – about love? What would happen? I logged off social media for a season because participating led me to be a law breaker. It was not helping me keep God’s royal law of loving my neighbor as myself; and through God’s grace, that is really what I most desire to do. I desire to keep God’s law. I desire to be holy. Will you join me?

Featured image courtesy Unsplash: Photo by Elijah O’Donnell

Doubts & the Mission of Jesus

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Great Commission in Matthew 28. It’s a passage many know well, finding it an inspiration, a call, a light to guide the way. It’s a powerful text, one that has inspired Christians for thousands of years, so it’s not a passage usually associated with doubts.

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28: 16-20 NRSV)

There are many things about this passage that may jump out to you. But for me, in this season of life, what jumps out to me is verse 17 – When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. Yeah, that’s me right now. Many right now are worshiping Jesus, but I feel like I’m over in the corner, doubting.

Yes, Lord, I know you’re risen from the dead – but no one is watching our videos.

Yes, Lord, I know you’re risen from the dead – but I’m afraid we are starting to lose people.

Yes, Lord, I know you’re risen from the dead – but finances!

Yes, Lord, I know you’re risen from the dead – but there is so much pain and loss and hurt right now.

Yes, Lord, I know you’re risen from the dead – but I am inadequate to meet this moment.

Right now, I feel like my faith is: “Yes, Lord, I know you’re risen from the dead, but…”

Do you ever feel like the disciples who were overcome by their doubts? Sometimes I do. I should know better. Has God ever failed me? Of course not. I know God won’t start now. I know that God is with us. I know that he is King of Kings and Lord of Lords – but…

Let me tell you why this text gives me comfort. Notice what Jesus didn’t do to those doubters. He didn’t kick them out. He didn’t fuss at them. He didn’t say they didn’t measure up to the moment.

And look what Jesus did do. He saw them. He sent them out. He included them in the mission. They were still part of his team, his flock, his people. Their doubts did not exclude them from the family. Their doubts did not exclude them from the mission.

Neither do my doubts; neither do yours. Jesus still has a place for us, in spite of our fear or inadequacy or doubts. And here’s the cool part of grace: what if Jesus can even use your uncertainty? In a world full of folks with rock-star faith, maybe it can be the doubters and the “yeah – but…” people who are approachable to doubters; who are realistic, who are touchable. Maybe, to a world reeling from pain after pain, a perfect God who sits with uncertain people with incomplete faith is exactly what we need right now.

The doubters had a place in the mission. In this moment, that gives me great hope. Here I am Lord, even with my doubts. Send me.

The Prevenient Grace of Mr. Rogers by Andy Stoddard

Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian pastor, but I believe that actually he was a Methodist deep down inside. Why do I say that? From my understanding of how he lived, I don’t know anyone who more fully lived out the concept of “prevenient grace.” Prevenient grace is the grace that goes before us, the grace that calls us into conversion. In our Wesleyan understanding of prevenient grace, it is also the grace that goes to all people. It is the grace that embodies God’s love to all persons. You can reject conversion, you can reject sanctification, but you can’t undo God’s love for you. All people receive God’s love, whether we accept it or not.

Mr. Rogers understood that. He sought to live out a life in which he treated all people with kindness; he treated everyone according to their worth. That is the essence of prevenient grace, the essence of the image of God that is placed upon all people. All are made in the image of God, all are in need of salvation, all can be saved, all can be saved to the uttermost. All persons are called to receive grace, and all persons should be treated with the kindness to which this theology calls us.

After my family and I watched A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, I did a lot of reading about the original article that forms the foundational narrative of the movie. That led to another article that is a postscript about the original piece and the movie on which it’s based. It is a really powerful follow-up, but as I read it, this line got me the most: “He lost, because the great conceit of the internet is that it has unveiled and unmasked us, that it shows us as we really are and our neighbors as they really are, and that hate is more viral than love.”

To think about Mr. Rogers “losing” a fight that is unwinnable – the temptation to hate and to belittle – is painful. But it is also true. We are tempted to belittle those with different political beliefs (or at least think the worst of them). We are tempted to belittle those with different religious ideas and ideals (or at least think the worst of them). I don’t want to do that; I don’t want to fight; I don’t want to live in a “scorched earth” reality. But the culture is pulling us all that way.

Our moment puts us on different sides of so many issues, pitting us against each other. Everything seems to be colored by our personal perspectives and realities. Some things are powerful and so very important: world views and religion, for instance. Others are of great value: religion and social matters. Some are of no particular importance: iPhone vs Android or sports teams. Everything seems to make each of us angry, and while some things are worthy of our passions, we can’t be angry about everything. If everything arouses passion, then what is truly worthy of passion?

These passions and divisions seem to be tearing our nation, culture, and even churches apart. And we each, deep down within our heart, have to be asking ourselves, “isn’t there a better way? We can’t continue in this cycle forever, can we?”

This is not a liberal vs conservative ideology or Christian vs non-Christian thing that is unique to America in 2019. It is an age-old human thing. In light of these passions, we have to ask ourselves a question, especially those of us who value Wesleyan Methodist theology. Do we believe in prevenient grace?

I mean, do we really believe that preparing grace goes out to all people, the righteous and the unrighteous? Do we believe that all persons, not just those who are with me, are made in the image of God? Do we really think they are of sacred worth?

Here’s the thing.

Jesus did.

He treated everyone that he met as a person with worth. From the rich young man (who he looked at with love) who walked away, to the Samaritan woman, to the ones who nailed him to the cross.

He treated each of these people as a person with worth. And if he did, as one who follows him, I have to as well. I don’t always want to. It would be so much easier sometimes to give into the viral nature of hate. It feels like everyone else is. And what if I really disagree with “them,” whoever “they” are? I don’t ever want to pretend that our differences aren’t real: they are. It would be so easy to walk down that path of the world and culture.

But I don’t want to walk down that other path. I want to be like Mr. Rogers and as best I can, through God’s grace, live our God’s grace. I believe that is the only path that leads to peace. Maybe it makes me naive, or foolish, or less than those who want to pick up the battle. I’m learning to be okay with that. We all have to do what we think is right.

I think of another who, like the journalist believes Mr. Rogers did, “lost.”

Jesus.

He lost in the sight of the world, in the sight of the religious leaders of the day, in the sight of Rome.

But he didn’t lose. Because he lived and died, showing God’s heart of love, and rose again to triumph over sin, death, and the grave. Hate is not the most viral after all.

To win isn’t always to win. And to lose isn’t always to lose.

In the end, Mr. Rogers didn’t lose if he still inspires us to show kindness and treat people as though their lives have worth. And Jesus, through his life, death, resurrection, and soon return, shows us our worth and the great love of the Father for us all.

Simple Gifts by Andy Stoddard

One of the things that I love about God is that God can take our small efforts, the things in our life that we don’t believe are good enough, and make them truly amazing. God can take our small, human efforts, and perform divine miracles with them.

He can make the impossible, possible. Listen to what happens in John 6: 8-11:

One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all. Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted.

Jesus is here with a crowd of over 5,000 people and it’s time to eat. But there is nothing there to eat, at least nothing that could feed a crowd this big.

But in this text, we see two people who I’m sure must have felt foolish offering up a small little gift when they saw a huge need.

First, the boy offers to Andrew these five loaves and two fish. And then Andrew offers them to Jesus.

You can almost see the child sweetly offering up the food, as a child would go to their piggy bank when their family has a need. The parents smile knowing that it won’t be enough. You can almost see Andrew do that.

But then he takes that sweet gift to Jesus, knowing that there is no way it can help, but at least it’s something. And Jesus performs a miracle.

From one small gift, Jesus feeds thousands.

Today, we all have gifts that seem so small with all the needs around. Offer them anyway. Give them to Jesus. Give them to his mercy and grace. And see what he can do.

He can take our simple, small gifts and do amazing things with them. All for our good (and the good of others) and for his glory!

Today, give your simple gifts to Jesus.

This piece from our archives first appeared on Wesleyan Accent in 2016.

From the Storm to the Shipwreck by Andy Stoddard

Today’s reading is from Acts 27: 13-38:

When a moderate south wind began to blow, they thought they could achieve their purpose; so they weighed anchor and began to sail past Crete, close to the shore. But soon a violent wind, called the northeaster, rushed down from Crete. Since the ship was caught and could not be turned head-on into the wind, we gave way to it and were driven. By running under the lee of a small island called Cauda we were scarcely able to get the ship’s boat under control. After hoisting it up they took measures to undergird the ship; then, fearing that they would run on the Syrtis, they lowered the sea anchor and so were driven. We were being pounded by the storm so violently that on the next day they began to throw the cargo overboard, and on the third day with their own hands they threw the ship’s tackle overboard. When neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, and no small tempest raged, all hope of our being saved was at last abandoned.

Since they had been without food for a long time, Paul then stood up among them and said, “Men, you should have listened to me and not have set sail from Crete and thereby avoided this damage and loss. I urge you now to keep up your courage, for there will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship. For last night there stood by me an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I worship, and he said, ‘Do not be afraid, Paul; you must stand before the emperor; and indeed, God has granted safety to all those who are sailing with you.’ So keep up your courage, men, for I have faith in God that it will be exactly as I have been told. But we will have to run aground on some island.”

When the fourteenth night had come, as we were drifting across the sea of Adria, about midnight the sailors suspected that they were nearing land. So they took soundings and found twenty fathoms; a little farther on they took soundings again and found fifteen fathoms. Fearing that we might run on the rocks, they let down four anchors from the stern and prayed for day to come. But when the sailors tried to escape from the ship and had lowered the boat into the sea, on the pretext of putting out anchors from the bow, Paul said to the centurion and the soldiers, “Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved.” Then the soldiers cut away the ropes of the boat and set it adrift.

Just before daybreak, Paul urged all of them to take some food, saying, “Today is the fourteenth day that you have been in suspense and remaining without food, having eaten nothing. Therefore I urge you to take some food, for it will help you survive; for none of you will lose a hair from your heads.” After he had said this, he took bread; and giving thanks to God in the presence of all, he broke it and began to eat. Then all of them were encouraged and took food for themselves.(We were in all two hundred seventy-six persons in the ship.) After they had satisfied their hunger, they lightened the ship by throwing the wheat into the sea.

We see Paul’s encouragement to his shipmates: don’t lose heart. God has a plan, and Paul must get to Rome. As bad as it may look or appear right now, God is not done with Paul; God wants Paul to take the Good News to all the world. So Paul keeps encouraging, keeps pushing, keeps working; Paul keeps at it. He trusts in what God has told him. And he uses that knowledge to encourage others.

That is good for us to hear and think about today. We know that in the end, God wins. We know that in the end, the storm will pass, that God has a plan, that all will be well. We know it and we really believe it. Even if we struggle to understand or hold onto it, we know it to be true.

And if we know it to be true, let’s encourage each other. Let’s encourage those in the storm. Paul knew it would be okay because God had promised him that it would be. He has promised us the exact same thing. Let’s have faith. Let’s trust. And just like Paul, let’s encourage each other, no matter how bad the storm.

What follows encouraging each other through the storm?

In the morning they did not recognize the land, but they noticed a bay with a beach, on which they planned to run the ship ashore, if they could. So they cast off the anchors and left them in the sea. At the same time they loosened the ropes that tied the steering-oars; then hoisting the foresail to the wind, they made for the beach. But striking a reef, they ran the ship aground; the bow stuck and remained immovable, but the stern was being broken up by the force of the waves. The soldiers’ plan was to kill the prisoners, so that none might swim away and escape; but the centurion, wishing to save Paul, kept them from carrying out their plan. He ordered those who could swim to jump overboard first and make for the land, and the rest to follow, some on planks and others on pieces of the ship. And so it was that all were brought safely to land. – Acts 27:39-44

We see that God’s word to Paul was brought true. There were no casualties: all the people on the ship survived. Now, they were stranded in this moment; but they were alive. They had made it through the storm. This was not the end of their journey and their trip was not complete. But they had made it this far. God had kept his word.

You are not yet who you will be.

You are still on a journey. Your trip is not complete. There is work left to do in your life. There is work that God still has to do with you and through you. Your journey is not yet complete. As long as you are still breathing and living, God is still at work on you.

Paul had many miles yet to go, but he was in still in the middle of God’s plan. Today, seek after God’s plan and God’s way. Even if it leaves you shipwrecked for a moment, God has bigger plans. Trust in him always; always.

Andy Stoddard ~ The Gift of Brokenness

I’m a pretty happy and optimistic guy. I tend to believe the best of other people, and by and large, I expect things to work out alright. I take Romans 8:28 literally and seriously – God will somehow work out things for good.

I tend to be an optimistic and grace-full preacher. I believe in hell, but I’m not a hellfire preacher. I tend to think that grace is a greater motivator to faithfulness than fear is. I have always taken Paul’s words in Romans 2:4 to heart with my preaching: “Or do you despise the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience? Do you not realize that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?” I like to leave people with a pep in their step on Sunday morning. I like to leave them with grace on their lips. I want them to enter into the world hopeful, peaceful, and more focused on Jesus than on their sin.

Except for Lent.

In Lent, yes, we need to know that we are loved. But there is something else we need to know. We need to know this – we are sinful. We are broken. We are fallen. We are ashes, and to ashes we will return.

We can’t run from this. No matter how powerful, wealthy, famous, or holy we are, we are ashes. No matter how great of an influencer on social media we are, we are ashes. No matter how big a church we are part of, we are ashes. We are ashes. We are broken. We are sinful.

And you know what?

This realization of brokenness is one of the greatest gifts we can ever receive. Lent is a powerful and beautiful reminder of the gift of that realization. Once we receive this gift, we can truly live. This realization gives us several life-changing truths.

First, brokenness is equality. We are all the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve. We all inherit original sin. In our age, we like to talk more about “sins” than our “sinful nature.” Sins are things we do (what I jokingly call smoking, drinking, and cussing). In our minds, there is always someone worse than us. Yeah, we’ve messed up, but look at them. They are much worse than we can ever be.

If we look at our brokenness in terms of sin, then there are stratifications. There are better and worse than’s. But that is not how we are called to look at it. We are all sinful. It isn’t just that we have all messed up, but it is that we all have a broken, sinful nature. We all desire that which is sinful. You, me, our moms and dads, our preachers and bishops, all of us. We are all “sinful.” Jesus didn’t just come to forgive for our sins; he came to free us and restore us. When Adam and Eve fell, our nature was corrupted. That affects every last one of us. Charles Wesley put it this way in his great hymn Love Divine:

Take away our bent to sinning;

Alpha and Omega be

We all have that “bent to sinning.” Everyone one of us. All of us. You are sinful.You are broken. You are. Yes. You. Me. All of us.

But here is the joy: that truth doesn’t make you the scum of the earth. It makes you human. We are all broken. We are all sinful. We are all frail.

There is equality in our brokenness. We all stand equal before God, no matter what. We are all broken. That makes us all equal, no matter what.

Second, brokenness is clarity. If we ever, ever, ever really understand our brokenness, then we have the ability to see ourselves as we really are. Broken and in need of a Savior. When we understand that, then healing can really begin.

One of the best books I’ve ever read is The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. If you’ve not read it, you need to stop what you are doing, go and buy it, and read it. In this book, he deals with our need for grace and the reckless God who gives us grace, unearned. Listen to what he writes:

At Sunday worship, as in every dimension of our existence, many of us pretend to believe we are sinners. Consequently all we can do is pretend to believe we have been forgiven. As a result, our whole spiritual life is pseudo-repentance and pseudo-bliss.

This clarity – you are sinful, I am too – when we realize that, when we truly know that we are sinful, then we are able to clearly see how amazing God’s grace is. God knows the worst about us and loves us anyway. Our brokenness gives us clarity to see ourselves as we are, and to see just how much God truly loves us.

Finally, brokenness is opportunity. When we know our brokenness, as well as God’s great love for us, in spite of it all, we have an opportunity – an opportunity to be remade, reformed, reborn. We go from being the Pharisees thankful that we are not tax collectors to the tax collector simply thankful for God’s love.

Understanding our brokenness allows us to truly reveal and marvel in God’s grace. Understanding our brokenness puts on the path of recovery, the path of wholeness, the path of holiness. This path that understands it’s not about our morality and getting it right, but it’s about our humility and submission to Jesus and following Jesus.

Our brokenness is our opportunity to be truly faithful.

This Lent, you are sinful. You are imperfect. You are broken. So am I. May we take this realization as a means of grace. And may we allow ourselves to be recreated into the people that God is calling us to be. We are equal in brokenness, we are equally in grace. May this gift make us whole.