Tag Archives: Evangelism

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ The Unreached Object

Protestantism has hit a snag.

Catholics have their challenges, but it’s a very different set. The Orthodox church in its various forms has its disputes but remains largely unchanged.

North American Protestants have hit hard times, like an ecclesial version of the 2008 economic meltdown. We’ve printed Bible verses on magnets, screen printed t-shirts, run food pantries and epic VBS spectaculars, hashtagged our sermons – and overall, in the main, numbers are down, scandals occasionally rock prominent pulpits – if not of moral failure, of exhaustion and burnout – and everyone has a different perspective about why.

Which means we must be very careful about how we go about our mission, because across the country our faith community is in crisis. And crisis breeds desperation.

So these few thoughts aren’t on the why’s and wherefore’s of politics and theology other than as they may shape our attitudes while we attempt to go about ministry in the midst of a colossal, tectonic shift. When a shift of this magnitude occurs, it is tempting to:

A) Cling to the familiar and hold on for dear life

B) Take my Grandpa’s card-playing strategy, getting more and more desperate to get out of the hole and taking wild risks

C) Bail

Investors could probably capture this dynamic in economic terms. Some steadily play the long game, waiting for the system to settle itself down; the infamous day traders took high-risk, high-reward gambles; and there’s always someone who, like in the memorable It’s A Wonderful Life scene, lines up to get their money out of the bank. The tyranny of the urgent doesn’t always create space for careful deliberation. There is a crisis; we must act now; and certain leaders will tell us we must act this way or that way to navigate the crisis successfully.

So what is the mood – not in all, but in many – what is the mood in many congregations?

If we’re not growing, we’re dying.

We’re losing an entire generation.

How are we going to pay for that building project?

The church across town is really giving us stiff competition.

I feel dead inside and my superintendent has called three times about whether we’ll meet our apportionment.

One bad flu season could wipe out 80% of our biggest givers.

If I could really get this congregation going, I might get on the coaching circuit.

That’s just being honest.

So some congregations desperately cling to the rituals and routines – events you’ve always done, a calendar you’ve always observed, a strategy you’ve always employed. There’s risk of loss through attrition, but it’s slow and not too jarring, and in times of crisis overextension can be fatal, right? So keep your head down – even if your teeth are gritted and volunteers are getting discouraged.

Other congregations show desperation in other ways: your outreach gets a little frantic, your events are held with little or no explanation as to how they tie into mission, and visitors notice the tightness of the greeter’s eager handshake. There’s risk that you’ve lost your way, your identity, your distinct mission, but as long as the numbers stay up, you can tread water, right? So keep brainstorming, keep in perpetual motion – even if your outreach isn’t translating into discipleship and your focus is blurred.

Meanwhile, the last group usually isn’t made up of congregations: it’s made up of individuals. These are the people who, for one reason or another, bail. And boy, is this a growing group. Maybe you know one of these people. Maybe you are one of these people. You volunteered for years, you were a leader, but slowly you noticed that doing God’s work looked a lot like doing whatever program the latest pastor was enthusiastic about. You spent hours and money for The Vision, but after one too many blowups, or one too many events that bolstered a leader’s ego but didn’t necessarily seem to build the Kingdom of God, you were exhausted. Finally, you were done. You go to church occasionally but wince when greeters learn you have A Background In The Church because they’re quick to share they need volunteers…Sometimes you even sneak into the back of a Catholic service just to be anonymous, to be on the receiving end of ministry, to go somewhere friendly but not desperate.

Oh, American Protestants. You’ve published every version of the Bible possible, from Princess Bibles to Hunter Bibles to Bibles For The College Student, and you’re so tired. So very tired.

Listen, friends, our culture is in a huge seismic shift. I know you’re weary. I know you feel overwhelmed. I know sometimes in the middle of the grocery store your heart hammers and you fight away the panic while staring at a discount bin. There’s extraordinary pressure.

But no matter how you feel, people are not objects of your ministry.

They’re just not.

As soon as we start talking about zip codes or housing developments or suburbs or regions, we immediately have to exercise extraordinary caution, because while talking demographics can be helpful, people are not objects. And they are not the object of our outreach.

If bottoms in pews are a rung on your upward ladder, then buddy, you’re in the wrong business. That is the way of bickering disciples asking who will get the promotion, not the way of Jesus, who saw Zaccheus through the crowd, perched up in a tree. That is the way of the Pharisees, who objectified everyday people, not the way of Jesus, who fell asleep in the bottom of the boat. That is the way of the wretched Simon, who saw the gift of the Holy Spirit and asked for it so that he could make money off of it, not the way of Jesus, who healed ten guys but was only ever thanked by one.

Maturity means knowing how to be patient. It means knowing that you may invest in a relationship for years before a spiritual question ever comes up – if ever. It means praying for people by name for months, years, decades, knowing that their choices may cause them pain in the meantime. It means seeing people, not objects. You can control and herd objects. People are harder. And God may bless your ministry with extraordinary tipping-point breakthrough – or not. But you don’t get to control the outcome. Research, use common sense, learn about your “target demographic,” then push it all aside and ask God who God wants you to see with new eyes -really see. Because people are not objects.

Let’s trust that Christ will build his church, whether you run yourself ragged or finally take a vacation with your family.

Let’s trust that Christ will build his church, whether you can afford to helicopter the pastor onto the roof on Easter Sunday or you can only afford to repair the roof – after a special fundraising campaign.

Let’s trust that Christ will build his church, whether you flip pages of a hymnal or read words projected onto a screen.

Let’s trust that Christ will build his church, whether you feel insignificant or whether you’re in a spotlight of honor and praise.

Let’s trust that Christ will build his church, whether you wear vestments or jeans.

Let’s trust that Christ has given us everything we need to reach the unreached. Let’s trust that Christ didn’t see us as objects to be collected, but as people with sacred worth. Let’s trust that God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, no matter what new tech gadget we have to adapt to, no matter who is elected, no matter how effective our personal branding efforts are.

God, save us from the unreached object. Let us have eyes to see people, and to see them as you see them.

Wesleyan Accent ~ Neighbors in the Middle East

One month ago, an American couple herded three children into a men’s room in the Istanbul, Turkey airport. The wife visibly pregnant, they settled in for the night and texted to family members in the U.S., letting them know that their flight was being delayed indefinitely – keeping some of the details to themselves. All night the parents kept vigil as the children miraculously slept through the sound of explosions, reports of shooting, sonic booms from low-flying fighter jets and men coming in with blood-spattered clothing to wash their faces and hands for their ritual Muslim prayer time.

One of the protesters from a crowd of 5,000-10,000 men who, at the Turkish President’s command, had marched to the airport chanting in Turkish and protesting the military coup, saw the family camped in the bathroom and reassured them, “we are not here for you.”

Hours before, the couple had tried to get a taxi from the airport to the hotel after a long flight with young kids in tow when everything suddenly shut down: a tank quite literally blocked the way in and out of the large transportation hub. For a while, the family of five (and one on the way) was trapped in “arrivals” near the insecure glass doors that opened out onto the street, where people ran in for shelter from gunfire popping in the distance. Security officers and airport employees had disappeared from the airport at the news of a coup, leaving travelers to fend for themselves, helping themselves to bottled water and café food. A Frenchman volunteered to watch the family’s luggage. After hiding in a stairwell during a bomb scare (in which travelers nervously opened an abandoned bag), the family settled into the men’s room.

Throughout the entire night, as deep booms rumbled in the distance and the kids snored peacefully on, while the safety of team members spread throughout Istanbul was unknown and the promise of a flight out was evaporating, one Turkish man stayed steadfastly with the family of five Americans (and one on the way). He had seen them and given his promise: “I am going to stay with you until you’re safe. I am not going to leave you.”

And he didn’t. The man they had never met before stayed by their side throughout the long night hours.

Finally, at 5:30 in the morning airport workers began to return. By 7:00 a.m. the thousands of protesters began to empty from the airport. Roads opened and taxis arrived.

It would be another three days spent in an Istanbul hotel before they finally were able to board a flight out of Turkey to London, and from there, home. A few days after touching down on American soil, they were scheduled to speak at a church about life as missionaries in the Middle East. By the grace of God, they kept their appointment. I was privileged to hear their first-hand account.

Life in the country where they serve (not Turkey) does not usually hold the kind of danger and suspense they faced in the Istanbul airport, despite what many Americans would picture when they hear “the Middle East.” Even so, when I asked the missionary from a denomination based in North America what I needed to scrub from a piece covering their work, I got a wry smile.

“Either our names, or everything else.”

So here’s the “everything else.”

For this American missionary family working in a Middle Eastern region, the biggest change of the past few years is the arrival of refugees from areas taken over by ISIS. In the area in which they serve, NGOs and organizations are arriving to offer services to refugees. New shortages have emerged with the arrival of refugees – gasoline, the electric grid, on various components of the infrastructure, there is new strain from the ballooning number of people.

The new dynamic has affected people and their openness to Christ: for the local nominal Muslims, the Islamic State is causing secular Muslims to want nothing to do with Islam.This has nothing to do with real Islam, they think; we’re peaceful, obviously: so this is politics. The changing dynamic has led to openness to thinking critically about the loosely-held religion that has shaped their lives.

“If this is Islam, I don’t want it – so what is true?” One local young man began privately following Christ because of videos he’d found on YouTube. People who have begun to follow Jesus privately through the internet then quietly find a church and receive a Bible.

Compared to their first five years of missionary service in the Middle East, this missionary couple has witnessed more people come to Christ in the last two years than in the first five. Many of the young people choosing to follow Jesus aren’t accepting the faith through intentional relationships but rather are, in the words of the North American, “random people God drops in our laps simply because we’re there.”

One Arabic young man from a refugee family chose the Christian faith and was beat up and abandoned when his family members found out. Because of the ISIS conflict in his home region, and because of the anger of his family, he was kept from being able to take qualifying exams for university. In a new place, where he didn’t speak the local language, having moved away from his home because of explosions and violence, he eventually moved in with a pastor’s family, desperate for a way forward.

Yet many of the new Christians don’t quickly trust each other. Even in a culture of nominal Islam, they are cautious who and when they tell about their Christian faith. As that trust builds, they share with their friends; discipleship grows. In the region, there are now two local pastors in area cities, house churches of around 20 people – enough of a seed to start to have a small Christian subculture.

In a few months, the American missionary family will return to their place of service in the Middle East (though they will probably avoid flying through Istanbul – just in case). The family of five will be a family of six by that point. They’ll be going back to uncertain gasoline supply, unreliable electricity, strained infrastructure – and friendships and relationships with new Christ followers.

The family of five (and one on the way) asks for two things: first, that Americans will keep praying that people in their region will continue to have dreams of Christ (this is a recurring theme among people who seek out a church). And second, that Americans will consider that there are openings for single or married, young or retired missionaries that have remained unfilled; even missionally-minded Christians aren’t leaping at the chance to serve in the Middle East, and so this missionary couple asks fellow Christians to be open to follow where God leads.

Even if the path goes through a men’s room in the Istanbul airport.

Wesleyan Accent ~ Interview: A Social Worker Goes to Haiti

With the Wesleyan mantra, “the world is our parish,” it’s not only pastors and long-term career missionaries who engage in missions in the 21st century, when international travel is available and common.

Recently Wesleyan Accent spoke with Sarah Jane Bearss, a case manager and special needs childcare worker who chose to live and work in Haiti for six months two years ago, on her experiences then and since.

What’s your overall career/area of study? With what church are you involved?

My Bachelor’s degrees are in Social Work and Sociology. I have worked with children on the autism spectrum for several years. I acted as a case manager coordinating the team that worked with the children and their families through an intensive in-home program.

I was raised in The Wesleyan Church, went to a Wesleyan university and attended Wesleyan churches.

How did you hear about the opportunity to live out your faith in another country for a while?

My sister knew a couple that had been involved with an orphanage in Dessalines, Haiti. The couple moved there with their two children to help run the orphanage. When the community knew the orphanage was accepting babies again, they were overwhelmed. They were brought four new babies in three months. One of the little girls had numerous medical and developmental issues and they needed additional Haitian staff. I received a text from my sister about the situation and as soon as I read it I knew I was going to Haiti.

You spent six months in the country of Haiti. How does one pick up and arrange life to go and do something like that? Did you self-fund? What were peoples’ responses to your news that you’d be living overseas for a while?

I think the answer is more simple than people would imagine – I simply said yes to God.

God was already clearing a path before I had even heard of the need in Haiti. The family I was a nanny for told me they were going to have to move. I was part of a church plant that had been struggling for some time and the district made the painful decision to close the church. It was one more indicator for me that I no longer needed to be in Wisconsin.

People were constantly asking me what was next and had I found someone to sublet my apartment yet. My answer continued to be, “I don’t know” and, “no.” The day I moved out, God provided someone to rent my apartment and saved me three months of rent and utilities. The life I had with “safety and security” with a church family and support network of friends was gone, but it made it so easy to say yes.

There were of course many details to work out, but I was so sure I went to get all of my vaccines before I even interviewed with the American board of the orphanage. I had no “sending church” and the organization was independent so I did have to self-fund. I went to several churches to raise support and God provided. I didn’t have all of the money needed before I left but enough to get there and stay for a few months. I didn’t have extra and spent all of my savings, but I knew it was the right decision.

For the most part Christian family and friends were supportive, with concerns primarily about my safety. It was mostly people without faith of any kind who thought I was crazy. “Wait, they aren’t going to pay you? You mean you have to pay to get yourself there and you’re just volunteering? What about retirement and your future, this will set you back.” It was actually a great way to share how doing short term missions doesn’t make me a good person, the only good I do is through God’s grace.

How do you see yourself as a disciple? What do you wish more church members understood about missions involvement?

I’m a disciple just like any other follower of Jesus. He doesn’t ask everyone to do the same things but we all need to be willing to say yes to him. I don’t feel called to full-time missions but plan to go back to Haiti. No matter where I live, I’ll be involved with children and music ministries. Those are the areas where I’m gifted and love serving.

I wish more church members realized we are all missionaries. My geographic location while serving Jesus is not important, it’s my level of obedience where he has called me to serve. There were a few awkward moments when people would imply I was special for doing short-term missions. It was unexpected, and I would honestly respond that I was still the same person and we all work together as the body, whether locally or globally.

I also wish more church members realized what a key role they play in global missions even if they never step foot overseas. Financial support is of course important but prayer is vital. I wouldn’t have been able to go and help without the support and encouragement from so many people.

What are some of the strongest memories of your time there?

Communion. Despite the stale crackers, flat pop and vague understanding of the service due to my toddler level vocabulary of Creole it was one of the most Spirit-filled moments of my life. Knowing friends in the states were taking communion on the same Sunday, that thousands of believers worldwide were doing the same – it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Every time I took communion in Haiti I felt more connected to the Church worldwide, past and present, than I had ever felt before.

Sarafina. I became “mama Sarafina” in Haiti. When she came to us the extended family shared she was eight months old, her mother was dead and they could no longer care for her. She obviously was globally developmentally delayed, had vision issues and weighed under ten pounds. We found out from members of the community and hospital she was thirteen months old and her mother was most likely mentally ill. Sarafina had numerous medical issues.She stayed with me because she frequently stopped breathing and had daily medication I had to give her. One of my favorite memories is her holding my finger in church while I rocked her to sleep.

Other great memories include taking a trip to the ocean with the elementary age kids, visiting Sugar Cane Park in Port au Prince with the older children and going to the market. There were Methodist missionaries from Canada that helped run the hospital in Dessalines and the weekly Bible study we had was so encouraging, and we celebrated Canadian thanksgiving together.

Did you have some reverse culture shock when you returned? How has your time in another country affected your experience of the average weekly church service?

Yes to the reverse culture shock! Every time someone complained I wanted to tell them to zip it. I was in Haiti for six months and I’ve been back for two and a half years but in some ways I still feel I’m adjusting. When the power goes out I feel nostalgic and I like much warmer temperatures than I used to enjoy. The pace of life was much slower and there seemed to be a stronger sense of community at the orphanage, and I miss that in our independent and driven society.

Coming back, church seemed a bit anemic. Church in Haiti was two and a half to three hours long. I think being there helped provide perspective and showed balance is a positive thing.

What do you think keeps most people from doing this kind of thing?

1.Fear of the unknown. Change is hard and it wasn’t easy but I would do it all over again.

2.Debt.

In your experience, what’s the main misconception people have about a country like Haiti or about a short-term missions commitment like this?

Whether or not they say the words, many people assume the whole country is poor and needs to be saved. It’s easy for outsiders and North Americans to look at Haiti and only see the negatives such as poverty and unemployment. In the rural areas there is often no electricity, clean drinking water or access to medical care. However, Haiti is a beautiful country and the people are survivors. God was at work in Haiti before I ever went and he will continue to work in that country long after I’m gone. I wasn’t needed to save anyone, but I was blessed to be a part of the work God is doing in Haiti.

I appreciate the orphanage I went to because there is also a church, clinic and school for the community. Many churches in the U.S. have an ongoing relationship with the people of Dessalines through the orphanage. While a trip to “love on orphans” or do a VBS feels good, how helpful is it to the community or the children who already may have attachment issues?

Instead, an ongoing relationship with a local organization makes sure to help guide resources in the right direction and fill the biggest needs. Many people in Haiti support themselves by selling items at market or owning a small business of some sort. When people flood the country with rice, clothes or other goods it hurts the Haitian business people trying to make a living. A short-term missions trip should be about service and what will empower the people of Haiti to address the needs and issues in their own community.

What reflections would you offer someone who’s always wished they could travel and make a difference?

I don’t think I would have changed anything I did. Looking back I wish I could have adapted to situations in general without as much emotional turmoil. However, that’s just my human inclination to crave comfort instead of the uncertainty that often produces growth.

I would say go for it. It’s a life-changing experience to see the world from a different perspective and it’s hard to explain it to those who have not yet experienced it.

Being in Haiti pushed me to depend on God and pray in ways I hadn’t before. Coming home was difficult because in my mind I had planned to stay an additional six months. I was having health issues; as much as I wanted to stay I knew it wasn’t the right decision. I returned in December and at the end of January my baby Sarafina died. We couldn’t get a heart surgery in Haiti because she had too many health issues and we couldn’t bring her back to the states for the same reason. I lost the daughter of my heart. When people ask if I have children I don’t know what to say and it often still makes me want to cry.

His strength is made perfect in my weakness, so if I don’t share what God has brought me through, how can others know how good God has been to me? I don’t want people to hear the negatives and focus on that, but on how God has been with me through it all. And despite my failures he can continue to use me no matter where I am.

Carolyn Moore ~ Four Principles for a Healthier Short-Term Mission Experience

I am writing this while “on mission with Jesus in Ecuador,”* serving together with seventeen genuinely kind and faithful people from two churches in Georgia and the United Methodist seminary of Venezuela. We are being hosted by Sharon and Graham Nichols, who serve Christ through The Mission Society.

Back in the day, church folk took suitcases of shoes, toys or food when we traveled to remote places. We planned big projects for communities that didn’t ask for them. We came home and showed pictures of children we held and houses we built. We felt great about ourselves. Well intentioned as we were, we were clueless about the long-term damage of this approach to short-term missions.

Americans have learned a lot in the last thirty years about what it means to be on mission with Jesus, how short-term experiences can help and hinder, and what is actually useful for building the Kingdom of God on earth. Churches genuinely driven to be both faithful and effective are changing the ways they do short-term international and even long-term local missions.

For those having that conversation, here are four things I believe any short-term mission team should consider:

1. Get a Kingdom perspective on poverty. One of the hardest things to learn for an American traveling in a third-world country (or among those who live in poverty in our own country) is that our stuff will not get anyone into the Kingdom. To the contrary, often the giving away of stuff or money fundamentally disrespects the person on the receiving end and changes the nature of a relationship. In the end, it may well stifle the message of the gospel.

To gain a more mature posture toward poverty, I highly recommend reading at least one of these books: When Helping Hurts, or Toxic Charity. The message of both books is the same: By giving to appease our own consciences we completely miss the chance to give something of infinitely more worth: genuine relationship.

2. Get the posture of a learner. The most valuable gift of a mission experience is exposure to God’s heart. If we allow ourselves to travel under the illusion that we “know” and that in any equation we are the teachers (or saviors, or givers, or …) then we’ll completely miss God’s heart. What most respects the country to which we travel and the hosts who have us is to learn how God is working among them.

To get a better sense of what it means to “go as a learner,” I recommend these two books:Thriving in Cross-Cultural Missions, by Carissa Alma, and Journey to A Better Way, by John Bailey. The last chapter of “Thriving” is an excellent assessment of the current short-term missions culture written from the perspective of one who has been on the receiving end of teams for nearly two decades.

3. Think of it as discipleship. Invest time in the team before going, while you’re there and after you return. Require every team member to write a testimony in 500 words. Study the great commission together. The team that invests time in meeting, praying, sharing testimonies and preparing to go as learners will receive so much more than the team that simply gathers supplies and heads off to complete a task. And they’ll do less damage.

4. Make sure it translates into action at home. The point of a mission experience is to gain God’s heart for the world and get our hearts broken for the things that break his heart. That shouldn’t leave us pining for the next “trip fix” when we return home (side note: to use mission trips to get one’s own emotional needs met is an abuse of the system. Don’t let yourself be guilty). A successful trip should create more effective disciples, more active leaders, more passionate servants … either in the field or in the community in which they live and worship.

What makes an effective short-term missionary? It is someone who goes as a learner to discover God’s heart for the whole world and to encourage those who serve full-time in the field. It is one who is challenged to go deeper in devotion to God and to look for where she can more intentionally serve upon return. It is one who comes home and starts praying with a stronger understanding and passion for the Harvest.

*This is how our hosts, Sharon and Graham Nichols, prefer to describe short-term experiences. It emphasizes the leadership of Jesus and our partnership in the process. Sharon and Graham “get it,” that short-term missions isn’t about what we do, but who we are. And even more importantly, who God is.

Kimberly Reisman ~ Three Things You Need to Know about Refugees

I thought I knew the extent of the refugee crisis until I was invited to a gathering of Christian leaders to discuss how Christians can better respond. Turns out there’s a lot I didn’t know. I’m betting I’m not the only one, so here are three significant bits of info:

ONE

The numbers are staggering. 59.9 million forcibly displaced persons worldwide.

Never have so many people been recorded as being displaced, put in danger and forced to move. Globally, 1 in every 122 humans are classified as refugees, internally displaced, or seeking asylum. If we put them all in one place, they would be the 24^th largest country in the world (right behind Italy.)

TWO

Half of all people displaced by political and military conflicts are children. That’s almost 30 million kids.

THREE

Refugees possess the image of God and therefore are infinitely valuable to God.

All persons, regardless of citizenship, ethnicity, or religion, are made in God’s image. It is precisely because we bear God’s image that every human has inherent worth and that every person, regardless of nationality or any other differentiating marker, deserves to be treated with respect and dignity. Because refugees are infinitely valuable to God, they are (or should be) infinitely valuable to us.

As Christians, number three must always provide the foundation for our decision-making regarding refugees. If this truth is not enough, we would do well to recall – especially in these days after Christmas – that the Gospels tell us about Jesus as a refugee child, whose family was forced to flee to Egypt to escape the wrath of a murderous monarch.

This is not an easy issue and governments are rightfully responsible for matters of security.

But we are not the government – we are the body of Christ.

And as the body of Christ we are called to care for the hurting, embrace the stranger among us, and show the love of Jesus to those in desperate need. This is what Jesus did; he cared compassionately for the vulnerable and brought peace to those in despair.

Our calendars have moved beyond Christmas and we wind our way toward Epiphany, the season that marks the arrival of the magi to worship Jesus. With the arrival of the Magi, came the warning to Joseph to flee, to become a refugee seeking protection and safety in a foreign land.

In the midst of this dramatic human crisis, that must be the starting point for our reflection.

***Christians are coming together to address ways in which we can respond to this unprecedented crisis. Here are two links for more information:

Christian Declaration on Caring for Refugees

GC2: Great Commandment + Great Commission

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ The Most Underrated New Year’s Prayer

It’s my (not unkindly meant) guess that tomorrow’s slew of sermons across North America and probably other parts of the world are, in the main, fairly predictable: having grown up as a pastor’s kid, a pastor’s grandkid, pastors’ niece, now pastor’s daughter-in-law, and having preached three years myself, along with having a great number of valued friends in ministry – well, sometimes one can feel along with the famed biblical text that there is nothing new under the sun.

Not that the Word of God doesn’t hold an inspired moment of revelation and transformation for us every time its opened: it does, by the grace of the Triune God, whether or not we feel it or realize it. And by God’s grace, you or I could hear the same sermon every Sunday for a year and grow remarkably through it.

Pastors, parishioners, hear this truth: the Word of God has beauty, truth that is worth hearing, observing, listening to, reading, singing, painting, proclaiming, on its own merit. You don’t have to dress it in a fancy hat, set fireworks off over it or make it go viral. You do have to submit to its terrible, beautiful power: but that’s a very different thing than feeling like Sunday worship is the time of the week you have to market Christianity.

It is in the hard road of following Jesus Christ himself that the Spirit of God sweeps across lands and populations. Actual, painful, weighty life change as we, like Bunyan’s pilgrims, climb, is used by the Spirit in a haunting way – the way that costs.

And so we come to one of the most underrated prayers for the New Year, quietly tucked in a humble corner of the New Testament. “And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart,” wrote the Apostle Paul in a letter to the Galatians.

Let us not grow weary while doing good.

That’s the big New Year fear, isn’t it? That we’ll grow weary of carrying out our resolutions. That we’ll grow weary of driving to the gym in cold wind. That we’ll grow weary of eating lettuce instead of crispy golden potato wedges. That we’ll grow weary of monitoring our spending, going on another blind date, volunteering at the dingy soup kitchen.

Or worse, we think – that we’ll grow weary of extra Bible reading. That we’ll grow weary of an early alarm allowing us 15 extra minutes for prayer. That we’ll grow weary of helping with Vacation Bible School. That we’ll grow weary of singing hymns in a cramped nursing home activity room smelling of stale urine. That we’ll grow weary of bearing with our obnoxious neighbor who we secretly hope never visits our church – our church: our safe haven, our refuge, interrupted by the person we avoid.

Let us not grow weary while doing good.

G.K. Chesterton captured this with stark but hopeful clarity:

Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.

Let us not grow weary of doing good: no running down the clock here. Lord, let us not grow weary of doing good this year. Our world groans and lurches. We read how we can feel overwhelmed by the sheer scale of suffering, but God calls us to serve one more anyway. In the middle of shootings and terror, Ebola and malaria, cancer and autism, addiction and infertility, let us not grow weary of doing good. In the midst of cruelty and hurt, loss and abuse, panic and depression, anger and pride, let us not grow weary of doing good.

Mother Teresa described it this way:

What we need is to love without getting tired. How does a lamp burn? Through the continuous input of small drops of oil. What are these drops of oil in our lamps? They are the small things of daily life: faithfulness, small words of kindness, a thought for others, our way of being silent, of looking, of speaking, and of acting. Do not look for Jesus away from yourselves. He is not out there; He is in you. Keep your lamp burning, and you will recognize Him.

These words of Jesus, “Even as I have loved you that you also love one another,” should be not only a light to us, but they should also be a flame consuming the selfishness that prevents the growth of holiness. Jesus “loved us to the end,” to the very limit of love: the cross. This love must come from within, from our union with Christ. Loving must be as normal to us as living and breathing, day after day until our death.

When we handle the sick and the needy we touch the suffering body of Christ and this touch will make us heroic; it will make us forget the repugnance and the natural tendencies in us. We need the eyes of deep faith to see Christ in the broken body and dirty clothes under which the most beautiful one among the sons of men hides. We shall need the hands of Christ to touch these bodies wounded by pain and suffering. Intense love does not measure-it just gives.

What indicators in your life light up when you’re getting weary? Do you binge-watch television, finish off the pint of ice cream, overexercise compulsively, shout at loved ones, drink a shot or three of whiskey, gossip on the phone, click on the site you avoid, miss the appointment with the friend who knows you so well?

This year, catch yourself when you’re starting to get weary. Ask why. Look around at your life. Friend, it does not all rest on your shoulders; if it feels like it does, something is awry. But next December, if you’re able to look back and point to moments when you persisted in doing good, persisted in hope, persisted in humor, persisted in grace, persisted in humility – then it will have been a good year.

Let us not grow weary of doing good…Father, Son, Holy Spirit, may it be so.

Maxie Dunnam ~ What Does the Lord Require of You?

It is printed on the wall of the Library of Congress, a scripture verse many learned in Sunday school. Some describe it as the definition of real religion. “He has told you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8) Those words are as valid today as they were 2,800 ago years ago when Micah wrote them.

Micah was a young contemporary of the prophets Isaiah, Hosea, and Amos in the Eighth Century B.C. There was a particular kinship between Micah and Amos when we think about justice. Both were products of the countryside. Being from rural Mississippi, I like to remind people of that. Amos’s penetrating word, “Let justice run down like waters and righteousness as an ever flowing stream,” (Amos 5:24) is a parallel proclamation to Micah’s, “He has told you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly with you God.”

Most of us are wondering these days, when? When will “justice run down like waters, and righteousness as an overflowing stream?”

In April of l964, I moved from Gulfport, Mississippi to San Clemente, California, in large part because of the civil rights issue and the church’s unwillingness to be practically and prophetically involved. Mississippi was burning in all sorts of ways. Sixteen months after arriving in California, August, 1965, the Watts riots broke out. California was burning.

Fifty years later, Baltimore is burning.

After all these years of civil rights legislation, war on poverty, war on drugs, and the coming of age of at least two generations, fire breaks out in Baltimore. It is not surprising that the response we see is either cynicism (that’s just the way it is), or a feeling of helpless hopelessness (there’s nothing I/we can do). Have we made any progress? is a normal question to ask.

I urge us to say no to cynicism and get beyond hopelessness; at least to move to a point of thinking seriously. To head us in that direction, consider the fact that at the heart of the problem in Micah’s day was that Israel had grown tired of God and chosen to go her own way. Judges took bribes to render unfair judgments; priests were immoral; prophets would prophesy anything you wanted in exchange for a few shekels. Micah and the other prophets were scathing in their denunciation of people being seduced into turning away from God, worshipping and serving other gods. Those ancient Israelites were attracted to gods of sex, power and material things. Have the temptations changed? Are we moderns not obsessed with self, forever making gods in our own image? What is good for us? What provides us the most pleasure and security?

What is least challenging to our status quo?

We are where we are, in large part, because we have not heeded Micah’s proclamation of God’s call: do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with God

Justice: making sure that all persons are treated fairly and have the opportunity to share in God’s good gifts. Micah said, do justice. That means it is not enough to wish for justice or to complain because justice is lacking. God’s people must work for justice, for fairness and equality for all, particularly the weak and powerless who are exploited by others. Even the church, in black and white community, must examine itself in relation to this. Black preachers can speak with more integrity and influence in the black community about accountability and the breakdown of family structures than the white preacher. The white preacher can’t ignore his prophetic responsibility in dealing with the evil of racism because he/she is tired of two or three black preachers who make a career of moving into every “hot spot” to speak their word of condemnation.

Love mercy. When we talk about justice, we need to remember that God’s justice is always flavored with mercy. Justice without mercy is not God’s kind of justice, and mercy without justice is not God’s kind of mercy.

The Hebrew word for mercy is hesed, which is difficult to translate with a single English word. Most often rendered mercy, sometimes it is simply rendered kindness, and often a combination of two words, loving kindness.

Mercy, along with justice, is an action word, a matter of the will. It is not natural, because we are basically selfish persons. Mercy requires decision. It may be costly, often requiring giving up something for ourselves and doing something for the sake of others.

More often than not, our problem is not in not knowing what to do, but in doing it. I believe that’s the reason the prophet added, “walk humbly with God.” It is our willingness to walk daily with God that energizes us, enabling us to do justice and love mercy.

Mercy (hesed) was a special word to the Hebrews because it is one of the principal attributes used to describe God in the Old Testament. More often than not, justice and mercy were connected in the preaching of the prophets. In a word similar to Micah’s, the prophet Zechariah says, “Thus says he Lord of hosts: ‘Execute justice, show mercy and compassion. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the alien or the poor.’” (7:8-9) So the three directions for “real religion” cannot be separated. Walking humbly with God – living all of life in relation to God – will result in doing justice and loving mercy.

With my background journey, with Mississippi, California, and now Baltimore burning, living in the city where Martin Luther King was killed, I’m convinced the fundamental problem is education and the breakdown of the family. Those two things are intimately connected. I believe that public education is the civil rights issue of the 21^st century. The zip code of where a child lives should not determine whether that child has an opportunity for a quality education. Whether a child can read when finishing the third grades marks what is going to happen to him/her the rest of life (including whether they will end up in prison). Whether a young woman finishes high school and goes to college often marks whether she will have children out of wedlock. The level of education for most incarcerated persons is less than high school.

I know that issues are more complex than these assertions, but I’m weary of excusing ourselves because the issue is so complex. Education is clearly a justice/mercy issue. That’s the reason why our church in Memphis has made a missional commitment to doing justice in relation to education.

Our congregation (Christ United Methodist Church) has been involved in education almost from the beginning of her life in 1955. As soon as buildings were available, the church started a school, kindergarten through sixth grade. I’m sure the motives were not altogether “justice for all.” Some folks were probably acting selfishly, making sure the children of the congregation had the opportunity for a “quality” education.

I served as Senior Minister of Christ Church from 1982 to 1994. Christ Methodist Day School had become one of many outstanding private schools in the city. During those years, I sought to lead the school in reaching out to the underserved of our city. We provided scholarships and tried to manage some common transportation. But nothing really worked in any significant way.

To be faithful as a congregation, to really do justice and love mercy, the congregation acted boldly in 2010 and opened Cornerstone Prep, a private, explicitly Christian school, with very focused attention to providing education for the underserved children of our city, locating it in the hood. We sent prospective teachers and administrators to cities across America where effective urban education was taking place, studied these schools, and developed our own “style” in response. From the beginning, with 33 kindergarten students, this little school has had positive record-breaking outcomes.

There was no question of need. In 2011, 950 of Tennessee’s 1750 public schools failed to make adequate yearly progress. In the concentrated educational reform efforts of our state, 85 of the worst “failing” schools were targeted for intervention by the state. Through the Department of Education, our governor established a non-geographical district of these “failing” schools, designated it The Achievement School District, and named a superintendent of that district, charging him to “reclaim” those schools for effective education. Sixty-nine of the 85 failing schools are in Memphis, a glaring sign of the condition of public education in our city.

Lester School is the primary elementary school serving the Binghamton neighborhood, where our congregation has been serving in different ways for 20 years. We located Cornerstone Prep there as another expression of our commitment. Lester is among the 69 failing schools in Memphis; in fact, it was the lowest performing school in the state.

One year after The Achievement School District was established, and three years after Cornerstone Prep was founded, we had the opportunity to do justice and love mercy in the Binghamton Community in a more expansive way. We were invited to take responsibility for the first three grades of Lester School.

To do so, Cornerstone Prep would have to “give up” being an explicitly Christian private school and become a charter school. This change in status would allow Cornerstone Prep to serve the larger public good in a manner currently not possible, enabling Cornerstone Prep to serve 325 students, rather than the 66 we served the previous year. After that year, we were given the entire school, kindergarten through 6^th grade.

The big question was: would we be willing to surrender being an explicitly Christian school? We remembered that Jesus said, “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24). As those seeking to “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God,” we decided that Cornerstone Prep had to die in the sense of being a private Christian school, in order to serve a desperate community. In the core sense, we did not forsake our “Christian mission” of “doing justice and loving mercy,” of serving “the least of these.” We decided to pursue the mission in a different way. Some of what we had been able to do in Christian witness and teaching in the classroom, we now do “after school.” But more, we do it not in curriculum, but in the way we teach and how we express care and affirmation of the students. We do it through countless volunteers who mentor and read with students. We do it in an Art Garden for the students and the community, located across the street from the entrance to the school.

Cornerstone has had amazing results in proving that where a child lives does not determine learning potential. The educational measurements have exceeded national norms in every area, so our little school has gotten state and national attention. The establishment of this school was one expression of our church doing justice. It is our statement that if our church is going to provide quality education for our suburban constituency through Christ Methodist Day School, justice requires that we seek the same for the children in Binghamton and the whole city.

I dream of the day when God’s dream, expressed by Micah’s contemporary, Amos, will be realized in our city: justice and righteousness will be running throughout our city “like a mighty stream.” For now, it isn’t. But the flow has begun and is gaining velocity. Cornerstone will be responsible for all the grades of Lester School in the school year 2015-16, and will also assume responsibility for another of the failing schools in The Achievement School District. From a small but bold dream that began with 33 kindergarten children, after six years, we will be serving 1,400 students.

A bold teacher-training program, Memphis Teacher Residents, is increasing the pool of outstanding teachers. With the 2015 graduating class, 267 will have received their Masters Degree in Urban Teaching through this innovative program, having made the commitment to teach in our public schools for at least three years. Seventy-nine outstanding college graduates from across the nation are committed to be a part of the next cohort of this program. Our goal is to have at least 1,000 persons trained in this program that has been judged by national organizations to be exceptionally effective, teaching in our Memphis public schools.

Hundreds of volunteers are giving generous hours weekly to tutor and mentor. The stream is rising and flowing more strongly. One day, cities across the nation are going to say, “they did it in Memphis; we can do it here.” And in the city where he died, we will prove Dr. King right: “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

Tammie Grimm ~ Warming the Soul with Celtic Traditions

For as long as I can remember, my family has celebrated St. Patricks’ Day like many other Irish-American families: corn beef and cabbage, homemade Irish soda bread, green dye in everyone’s beverages all served on Mom’s best Irish linen tablecloth. Typically, the sound of The Chieftains or Tommy Makem and The Clancy Brothers can be heard on my parent’s stereo. Over the years, I’ve tried including The Pogues, The Waterboys and of course, U2. But tradition in my family runs strong – St. Patrick’s Day isn’t the complete without a rousing rendition of “My Wild Irish Rose”and “O Danny Boy,” designed to bring a tear to your eye.

Early in my career as a school teacher, I was introduced to another saint commemorated in March: St. David. Like St. Patrick’s Day, there are associated traditions for St. David, and as a young school teacher with a new teaching assignment, I found myself carrying on another cultural tradition of sorts when I was conscripted by a friend and co-worker to make St. David Day cookies for our faculty colleagues. In preparation for St. David’s Day, we’d spend the last weekend of February making dozens and dozens and dozens of a little Welch biscuit so faculty members could literally fill their pockets with these addictive little morsels. It was in discovering more about St. David and this new tradition I participated in that I also discovered more about St. Patrick and the rich tradition of Celtic Christianity.

Who St. Patrick is to the Irish, St. David is the Welsh. Both men were early Christian bishops who helped spread Christianity and converted Druids and other pagans throughout Ireland and Wales. Both are two of only a handful of Celtic saints, who are also recognized and canonized by Rome for their influence on the Christian faith. Celtic saints were the men and women of Ireland, Scotland and Wales who, whether they were of noble or peasant birth, lived a life dedicated to God, and sought with heart, body, mind and soul to share and express God’s love to others. Many Celtic saints are known only in their localized area – their holiness revered and cherished among the people who witnessed that the successive generations continue to benefit from the life of the saint who once lived there. Whereas the status of Catholic saints of the Roman church is conferred by a far-away pope after a lengthy documentation process that verified the saintly credentials of a person, Celtic sainthood is conferred by popular veneration.

Often times, particular Celtic saints may have legendary stories attributed to them. The famous Lorica of St. Patrick is attributed to an incident following Holy Saturday in 433 when Patrick kindled the paschal (Easter) fire on a hill across from Tara, the center of the country and seat of the Druid High King. Patrick’s fire undermined the high king’s authority and power, who, by virtue of their office, ritually lit bonfires, thereby symbolically claiming they were the givers of light and warmth. When summoned by the Druid king to what would likely be his execution, Patrick and his companions robed themselves in white and found miraculous protection in chanting the Irish hymn invoking God and heavenly protection from the “powers of corrupt and distorted powers of the world.” The tale does not describe the king’s reaction, but the resultant successful spread of Christianity throughout Ireland suggests he did not have much of a fight left in him after being thwarted by God’s miraculous protection.

A similar story is told of St. David, but instead, the subdued chieftain is credited to say, “the kindler of that fire shall excel in all powers and renown in every part that the smoke of his sacrifice has covered, even to the end of the world.”

But for all the miraculous stories and the supposed powers that rivals today’s superheroes, Celtic saints became saints because the community in which they lived recognized their life of holiness and relationship to God. Perhaps one reason there are so many Celtic saints is because they saw no separation between what was secular and religious – all of life was sacred, and therefore consecrated to God. It was intertwines, much like the famous knot work still popular today.

In the centuries before furnace units and central heating, Celtic women who kindled the day’s fire in their hearth didn’t just clear the night’s ashes, they prayed and asked God’s blessing upon the fire that would give their families heat and light throughout the day. The prayer underscores the understanding they shared with St. Patrick and St. David, that light and life was a gift from God.

This morning, as I kindle the fire upon my hearth, I pray the flame of God’s love may burn in my heart, and the heart of all I meet today.
I pray that no envy or malice, no hatred or fear, may smother the flame.
I pray that indifference and apathy, contempt and pride, may not pour like cold water on the fire.
Instead, may the spark of God’s love light the love of my heart, that it may burn brightly throughout the day.
And may I warm those who are lonely, whose hearts are cold and lifeless, so that all may know the comfort of God’s love.

In our contemporary lives, when the light and heat of our homes can be programmed and controlled by remote from miles away by computer prompts, it takes a little imagination – or a power outage – for us to understand how present day humanity is still dependent upon the provisions of the earth – God’s creation – for our sustenance.

But understanding that God’s presence is infused into all of daily life like the Celtic saints of old did does not require we heat our homes with peat dug from a bog. Spiritual sight to acknowledge God’s sovereignty in all things comes with practice as we avail ourselves of divine grace. Like the Psalmist who was content “to be a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord” (Ps. 84:10), may we also embody holy lives and open the doors of heaven, pointing the way to God for others.

Carolyn Moore ~ Too Light a Thing

I encountered Jesus on a trip to a mercy ministry in Bangalore.

The people at this particular place were a mix of old, disabled, infirm and insane. But in some pairs of eyes, I could see what Mother Teresa talked about: Jesus in his most distressing disguise. I sat by a woman who was skin and bones. Half-naked and not fully conscious, she had been laid out on a concrete slab with her back side — full of bed sores and covered in flies — exposed to the sun. I don’t know how she was still alive and suspect she didn’t last long after I left. The direct sun seemed an unmerciful place for someone so fragile, but no one moved this woman and she was certainly not able to move herself. I asked about a place in the shade and was told she needed to stay where she was. I asked about food and was told she couldn’t eat.

What to do, then, when there is nothing to be done? I stood there, helpless in the face of such poverty, and wondered: as a follower of Jesus, what is my responsibility to this woman who seems to have been forgotten by the world? Do I demand justice? Throw her over my shoulder and haul her out of there? Or helplessly move on?

I decided that if nothing else, perhaps I could honor her life by noticing it, so I sat down by her side and waved flies from her face (they’d filled her nostrils). I looked at her. Really looked. This was real poverty, real suffering.

I would have suspected in a moment like this that the Word of God would dissolve in the face of such a reality. But to the contrary, it was the only thing that seemed to make sense. In fact, a word from Isaiah 49 came to mind and I spoke that word over her life: “The Lord called you from the womb. From the body of your mother he named your name … You are honored in the eyes of the Lord. God will be your strength.” Far from being irrelevant, it seemed the one thing I might want if I were in her place. I think I’d want to know I wasn’t invisible, that I mattered, that in my final moments, the truth would blanket me.

You are not forgotten. The Lord knows your name. Your life even now has value. The world has failed to treasure your life, but God has not forgotten you.

In order for that word to be true for this woman, and I absolutely believe it was, my comprehension of the Kingdom of God had to expand exponentially. Very quickly, it had to become much bigger than my middle-class existence had come to accept. And my righteous response to the Kingdom also had to expand. To be bigger. To be great.

That prophetic word spoken over the people of Israel resonates still. It is a rich and varied word, spoken first to reveal the heart of the Messiah, but also to reveal the heart of a fickle and self-centered people. Finally, it comes to speak over the heart of God’s people today. It calls us to a holy response that is bigger than our comforts will often allow.

We read from Isaiah 49:1-6:

Listen to me, you islands;
    hear this, you distant nations:
Before I was born the Lord called me;
    from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name.
  He made my mouth like a sharpened sword,
    in the shadow of his hand he hid me;
he made me into a polished arrow
    and concealed me in his quiver.
  He said to me, “You are my servant,
    Israel, in whom I will display my splendor.”
  But I said, “I have labored in vain;
    I have spent my strength for nothing at all.
Yet what is due me is in the Lord’s hand,
    and my reward is with my God.”

  And now the Lord says—
    he who formed me in the womb to be his servant
to bring Jacob back to him
    and gather Israel to himself,
for I am honored in the eyes of the Lord
    and my God has been my strength—
he says:
“It is too light a thing for you to be my servant
    to restore the tribes of Jacob
    and bring back those of Israel I have kept.
I will also make you a light for the Gentiles,
    that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.”

In this passage, we discover three truths about God, ourselves, and the call on every life.

God creates purpose (and God creates on purpose)

As the old saying goes, God made me, and God doesn’t make mistakes. Isaiah 49, verses one and five, remind us of this truth. He calls us from the womb. Before we are born, he names us by name. We are honored in his eyes.

A few days after our trip to the mercy ministry where I encountered the woman described above, we visited another ministry, a place called Daughters of Hope. Founded by a young couple impassioned by the concept of business as missions, Daughters of Hope is committed to bringing hope to deeply impoverished women. Most of them come to “Daughters” from a place of despair. Many have alcoholic husbands; all of them are the primary providers for their home. Most would be unemployable in Bangalore due to lack of education, lack of opportunity or lack of language skills. I found myself again speaking this word from Isaiah over the 60 women employed at Daughters of Hope, as I shared with them from the Word. I got to tell them that they are not forgotten; that they are treasured, valued, remembered. And then I told them about the story Jesus tells about treasures. He once said (Matthew 13:44) that the Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he had and bought it. I told them that they are the treasure in this field called India, which God has purchased with the blood of Jesus Christ. He bought that field so he might have them as his own daughters.

That word is for us, too. We also are treasures, planted in this field where we live. And God has purchased our land, also, with the blood of Jesus Christ so that he might have us as his own sons and daughters. How does it change your understanding of your own worth to remember that you are a treasure, that you are honored in the eyes of the Lord?

While in India, our group stayed with a missionary who has established a home in which she and a team have raised 46 children. She told me the story of a social worker responsible for rescuing several of her kids and bring them to her home. This social worker is truly a treasure hidden in the field called India. She is quietly, faithfully following Jesus where few others would go.

The social worker once traveled into a rural area to serve a tribal community. When she got there, the people of the village made sure she knew not to go near a certain tree that grew in their midst. They told her it was cursed, a notion proven by several deaths related to the tree. Some people had hanged themselves on this tree. Others had walked under it and then experienced bad luck. The combined encounters convinced the entire village that this tree was bad news, and that anyone who passed under or near it, especially after dark, would die. The social worker knew this tree didn’t have that kind of power, but no amount of talking could convince the villagers of that fact. Finally, she announced to those who had shared this news that she would sleep under the tree that very night. By herself. She would prove by her own experience that the tree had no power. The village leaders were mortified by this announcement and begged her not to follow through with her plan. They warned her of what would surely happen if she went near this tree, but she refused to listen. That night, the social worker went out and made a bed under this cursed tree, then laid down and proceeded to have a peaceful sleep. The next morning, the social worker awoke at dawn, to find herself surrounded by the entire village – plus a few from neighboring villages! They’d come to see if she was still alive, which indeed she was. Seeing the crowd, she stood up beneath that tree and shared the great news about Jesus Christ and the power of God Almighty. In one day, half the village became followers of Jesus.

The fact is, there are cursed trees in the world. Jesus met one. Once, on his way into Jerusalem, Jesus discovered a fig tree that bore no figs, and he cursed it because it bore no fruit. Evidently, in the Kingdom of Heaven, that is the ultimate curse. To be designed for fruit-bearing but to refuse to bear fruit. Let me say that again. In the Kingdom of God, the ultimate curse is to know, but do nothing about it.

Why? Because we were not created for nothing. We are not mistakes. Our lives matter. God made us with a purpose in mind. This is how God creates. He creates purpose, and we are designed with a destiny in mind. Do you know your destiny? Have you tapped into God’s purpose for your life? Have you explored the passions he has placed within you?

God creates salvation (but we create opportunity)

A prophet speaks for God and brings clarity around the purposes of God. When Isaiah speaks, his message first of all is a word about the coming Messiah, who will be the light of the world. But it is also about the Israelite people. God has every intention of using them — like a treasure planted in a field — to build his Kingdom on earth.

Paul reaches back into this very passage in Isaiah 49 when he and Barnabas begin preaching to Gentiles. He is battling the incessant complaints of religious people who are anxious over the mixing of races and the evangelization of foreigners. Paul’s response to them is an ancient one. He draws from Isaiah’s word to the Israelites, reminding them that truth is not a private affair. “For so the Lord has commanded us, saying, ‘I have made you a light to the Gentiles, that you may bring salvation to the ends of the earth’” (Acts 13:47).

Paul takes this word to the people of God in Israel and makes it clear that this prophecy is not just for the Messiah or just for some special group but for all of us who follow Jesus. God has made all who worship him into partners — to be a light, to bring salvation to the ends of the earth. Because nothing is ever lost in God’s economy, he will even use those consigned to exile and the stuff that enslaves us to build his Kingdom. Before we were born, he called us by name. He gave us a purpose, and he is using us to take his salvation to the ends of the earth.

God creates greatness (and we bear it to the world)

In Isaiah 49:6 we read, “He says, ‘It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” This word strikes deeply at our self-centered, individualistic worldview.

We are content, most of us, to work out our own salvation, but we neglect to cultivate a hunger for the whole world. And yet, Isaiah teaches, it is too small a thing that we should care for our own salvation only. It is too light a thing, Isaiah says, that we should serve only our own people and to keep feeding the ones who have already been preserved. It is too light a thing to think only about local missions, to go only as far as our comforts take us.

We have been called to be a light to the nations, that God’s salvation might reach to the end of the earth. That is the end toward which we are headed. One day, every knee will bow, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. And God has chosen to write that story in partnership with his people. After all, we were not created for comfort. We were created for greatness.

And that became the second half of my message to those women who work at Daughters of Hope. Most of them have come out of a Hindu worldview, where gods are small enough to fit on dashboards and hang from rearview mirrors – a worldview that emphasizes personal growth through reincarnation — a works-based mentality that assumes your hard times are your own fault and not my responsibility. And yet these women have experienced the grace of Christ through a mission effort that empowers them, that lifts them out of poverty and makes them — truly — daughters of hope. Isaiah reminds these women that this gift they’ve been given is not for them alone. It is too light a thing for them to care only for their own salvation and their own households. God has planted them into this field called India for a purpose — to bear Christ to this field, that the salvation of God might be known among every tribe and tongue of India. And I absolutely believe it will come in just that way — through hidden treasures like poor women learning to sew and social workers preaching the good news under cursed trees. Treasures hidden in this field. Greatness. A holy response bigger than our comforts will allow.

My daughter says I can trace every sermon point back to a scene from “Joe vs. The Volcano.” I don’t know if that’s true, but there is one scene in “Joe vs. The Volcano” that resonates. It comes after the title character has survived a typhoon and a shipwreck and is now stranded on a raft in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. He’s been through so much and now Joe is as close to death as it gets.

And that’s when he remembers.

He is on his raft, facing the moon as it rises over the horizon of the water. It is huge and just there before him, almost as if it could be touched. Joe is delirious, and for him this moon is something supernatural — perhaps even God himself. As the moon rises, Joe sinks slowly to his knees, places both arms in the air and says, “thank you. Thank you for my life. I forgot …how…BIG …”

How easy it is, in the midst of ministry, to forget how big. All the hoops we jump through and all the personalities we juggle can sap the joy out of us, and leave us in survival mode. We pull ourselves in, and become concerned about us and ours. We forget the power of God and the call to be great. Before we know it, we’ve forgotten just what it is we signed on for, and just how big our God is.

I won’t accuse you of this, but I am so very aware of my own tendencies. I am embarrassed to admit that I probably spend more time worrying about the life of my computer battery than I do about the eternal life of my Muslim friends. Maybe you can relate? I forget how big. How all-sufficient is our El Shaddai, how great is our God. I forget that he has made me for a purpose bigger than finding a great parking spot. He has formed us in his image and breathed into us the breath of life. It is the very power of God — the same power that created me and made me for a purpose — that saves me from selfishness and gives me courage enough to cast out demons, cure diseases, proclaim the Kingdom and heal the sick. It is the power of God that calls out greatness in me.

This is what it means to follow Jesus. And as we follow, we find ourselves more and more in the company of the brokenhearted, the blind, the poor, the prisoners, even those oppressed by demonic forces: people who are hungry for healing and who need spiritual leaders who have a heart for healing — not because we’re big-hearted, but because God is that big.

Have you forgotten how big the Kingdom of Heaven is? Have you forgotten how big your response to that Kingdom? I wonder how it might change the spiritual atmosphere of your home, your church, your ministry if you stopped where you are, right now, and put your hands in the air to confess: “God, I forgot how big!” He has created you for a grand purpose, he has created opportunities all around you for sharing the salvation story, and he calls you to bear the greatness of God’s Kingdom to the world.

Maxie Dunnam ~ God Outwits Us

These reflections were given in honor of Asbury Theological Seminary’s 90^th anniversary celebration.

The whole of my ministry life has involved my being called to places and positions of ministry for which I was woefully inadequate. Who I am today, and whatever I have accomplished for the Kingdom, flow from those occasions when I have responded to God’s call with fear and trembling, knowing that unless I lived in his presence and received his power I would fail. Connected with my personal commitment has been Jerry’s journey, and her willingness to follow God’s call for us as partners in ministry…often discerning God’s call more specifically than I.

My coming to the presidency of Asbury is a perfect illustration. I was totally inadequate for this task, and I wrestled with the call of the Trustees for months. They were so sure; I was so uncertain. I don’t have time to recall the dynamics of the struggle, but I did become convinced that the Trustee’s call was God’s call. And I came, though on the inside I was kicking and screaming because I was blissfully happy and fulfilled in ministry, and felt God was demanding too much.

In keeping with my ministry-long spiritual discipline, I turned to the “saints” for support and guidance. Brother Lawrence spoke the charging word. Most of you know that name, Brother Lawrence. If you have not read his book The Practice of the Presence of God you have probably heard a preacher or teacher speak of him. He served in the kitchen of his monastery and said he experienced the presence of God as clearly in washing pots and pans as in the Blessed Sacrament of Holy Communion.

I love that story, but it was another claim and story that got my attention. Like many others, Brother Lawrence entered a monastic order believing that he was giving up this world’s happiness to become a monk. He discovered a much deeper happiness than he had ever imagined. One day when he was praying and reflecting on the dramatic turn of events in his life, he shouted out to God: “God, You have outwitted me!”

Isn’t that a delightful phrase? “You have outwitted me.”

What a testimony to the providence of God, the working of God’s grace in our lives. I believe that’s the story line of my life, especially the storyline of my relationship to Asbury Theological Seminary. In fact, I believe that is the story line of the history of Asbury.

God outwitted me. I came reluctantly, thinking God was being unfair, calling me out of such a fulfilling ministry; but our ten years here were laced with God’s grace and presence and the sense of knowing I was at the heart of one of God’s great Kingdom enterprises.

That’s my personal story and I believe it is the storyline of our history. Through 90 years, since Dr. Morrison walked across the street from Asbury College believing that what America needed at that time was a seminary that would offer the whole Bible for the whole world, God has outwitted us. When graduation takes place in a couple of weeks, there will be over 10,000 living alumni. God has outwitted us as thousands have gone from here to the ends of the earth, and are serving today in all 50 U.S. States, 65 countries, 22 time zones. And what started out as a rather narrow, focused school of Wesleyan/Holiness folks has served at least 144 denominations.

When much of the Methodist/Wesleyan establishment looked down their noses at a humble holiness education center in a Kentucky village, God outwitted us…that little school, often scorned, now provides more ordinands for the largest of the Methodist denominations, the United Methodist Church, than any of her 13 official seminaries.

God has outwitted us. Because of the University and Seminary, this little town has become the missional education crossroads of the Wesleyan movement.

God has outwitted us…the Seminary has become such a technology model that The Association for Theological Schools and The University Senate affirm it as the measure for excellence. And we have a campus in Orlando that is already larger than 90% of all seminaries.

Oh, how God outwits us! The large denomination that once did everything to discredit what Asbury was doing now sends recruiting teams to attract our graduates to their areas. Our professors are respected across the world as outstanding scholars who have not allowed scholarship to be disconnected from vital piety.

And on and on we could go. As God has outwitted us during the past 90 years, let’s claim it to be so in the future as we continue to be faithful in shaping and reshaping ourselves in a way that will most effectively equip persons to serve this present age. And that means, I believe, at least this.

One, we must recognize that too many ministers are well-educated, but are not equipped to make disciples or lead Christian communities. We must become more humble and lay aside the snobbish notion that if we study the Bible enough, read enough Christian books, learn enough doctrine, we can be good disciples and good ministers.

We need knowledge, but what we need most is Kingdom character and competence.

Therefore, we must connect study and knowledge to practice. Professors and others who train folks for ministry must “know God” and also be able to mentor people in knowing God.

Somewhere along the way we strayed from the core purpose of seminaries as servants of the church, equipping persons for ministry. Seminaries became almost entirely the same as secular graduate education institutions. This resulted in making theological education largely theoretical, and training for ministry was abstracted from the actual practice of ministry.

In light of this, I believe our biggest challenge is to find ways to train men and women “in” ministry, not “for” ministry. While we hallow places and community, places alone do not make community…community flows from mutual commitment and mutual sharing in ministry.

Secondly, to serve the population of our country, we must pay attention to the large urban centers. Might God be calling Asbury to find a way to establish a dozen urban training centers? Places where theological education and equipping for ministry takes place – with the trainees being involved in ministry – with mentor and professors not only providing the content of the faith, but using reflection as the primary pedagogical dynamic. A short-term ministry sojourn during a student’s three or four year MDiv journey is simply not doing the job. We must find ways to train people in ministry not for ministry.

If we dare entertain a challenge like this, I pray we will go to some of the most secular sections of our nation, where the notion of called, spirit-filled, sanctified, evangelistic ministry is almost non-existent, and the language of holiness is foreign.

During this next period of our history let’s be open to God outwitting us. Let’s prove to the world who we are, and what we believe, and provide ministry preparation fit for the Kingdom.