Tag Archives: Leadership

Corporate Spiritual Discernment by Danny Morris

Spiritual discernment is not limited to individuals. Indeed, corporate spiritual discernment is just as important as individual. Corporately seeking the will of God through prayer and arriving at consensus plays an instrumental role for the body of Christ to function properly.

Take a minute to soak in these words from the “Prayer of Abandonment” by Brother Charles of Jesus:

Father, I abandon myself into your hands.

Do with me what you will,

Whatever you may do, I thank you.

I am ready for all, I accept all.

Let only your will be done in me,

And all your creatures—

I wish no more than this, O Lord.

Into your hands I commend my soul.

I offer it to you with all the love

Of my heart, for I love you Lord,

And so need to give myself, to

Surrender myself into your hands,

Without reserve, and with boundless

Confidence, for you are my Father.

Corporate Discernment And The Challenge Of Consensus

Corporate discernment is not as easy to achieve as personal discernment, but it is essential for the Body of Christ.

So, consciously make this needed transition. Close your eyes…take a deep breath…offer your earnest prayer that this next part will actually be the best, and most significant part – because you are doing it with and for your sisters and brothers in Christ.

The Upper Room Academy for Spiritual Formation came as a result of my sabbatical. We worked on the formation of the Academy for four and a half years. The nature of the content of The Academy suggested the method: spiritual discernment would be needed to deal adequately with spiritual matters. That’s it! We would interact with each other and with the content, on the basis of spiritual discernment. But what if some discern one thing and some another? Would we then be reduced to voting? No! There was one additional requirement: consensus!

Why Consensus?

My question at the time was, “Why not consensus?” Here, Christians wanted to discern the will of God on matters that could profoundly affect the people of God. I was convinced of three things:

1) God’s will for the Academy was so essential that we must do whatever it takes to know it.

2) God’s will is not so multifaceted, or diffused, or cloud-like that it cannot be discerned.

3) God’s will is revealed in our seeking, for God wants us to know and act upon the divine will far more than we are prone to do.

Therefore, I felt confident that if we came together and earnestly tried to know what God wanted us to do, it could be known-and that we could all know it at once! When I introduced this process to the Advisory Board, agreeing nods greeted the proposal.

Our use of consensus would not be a litmus test, nor a safeguard, nor an effort to prove something. It would be a spiritual ingredient of our relationship. We would be committed to hear each other, learn from each other, and bring forth the best in each other. Consensus would not mean that the many would hold out, or gang up on a few until they abandoned their position, or came around to what a majority wanted to do. It meant that God’s will was so important to each person that nothing else mattered.

I thought of the image of a prism and said, “When we put forth a matter for decision, see it like a prism placed on a little table in the center of our circle. Any of the twenty-two of us can speak about it.”

When each one spoke, it was like the prism had been turned a little, one way or the other. Dr. Douglas Steere, the eminent Quaker of my lifetime said, “When Friends (Quakers) finish speaking on a matter, they like to have a little silence for considering those thoughts.” All of us were profoundly moved by the words of our cherished friend.

Some issues or questions would require little or no turning. When an issue needed to be considered from many points of view, we would continue to turn it in the light until the truth was revealed. Then everyone could see it at once.

The process of turning an issue might mean giving up something or adding to, or modifying, or replacing something altogether. Consensus did not shackle our progress, for that meeting was one of the most productive any of us had ever attended. Consensus was our way of being with each other, and it had the same feel to it as the love we felt among us. Spiritual discernment by consensus was indeed a higher and welcomed way.

I suggested that if someone could not finally agree with a particular point, we would welcome a minority report. After all, we were not only interested in the best decision, but the best thinking on any subject.

Spiritual energy charged the air, and creativity was the result.

All spoke freely, strongly advocating various positions. But we were united in earnestly seeking God’s will on everything. We kept changing, shaping, and turning an issue until the light hit it right! When it did, everyone could see it from where they were sitting. It was amazing! Someone said, “this is the most unusual meeting I have ever attended!”

By the end of our meeting no issues were unsettled. More than 20 issues (one on each line of my notes) were acted upon. Our task was completed on time, with consensus at every point. There was no need for a minority report.

We went away feeling that we had been together in a new way – a higher way – on holy ground. Spiritual discernment by consensus was a new and remarkable way of being and doing.

Recovering Our First Language by Maxie Dunnam

Somewhere along the way I read of one who was reflecting on the language introduced by this computer age. He said,

“I remember when… a program was a TV show, an application was for employment, ram was the cousin of a goat, a gig was a job for the night, a keyboard was a piano, memory was something you lost with age, a CD was a bank account, a hard drive was a long trip on the road, a mouse pad was where a mouse lived, a web was a spider’s home and a virus was the flu.”

We have a whole new technological vocabulary. I’m trying to be technologically literate, but my big concern is that in this kind of technological world, and a world lost in moral and ethical relativism, language may be more important than ever. As Christians, and especially as those whose primary vocation is to communicate the Gospel, we need to pay attention to our “first language.”

There is a dark and powerful passage in Morris West’s book The Devil’s Advocate that challenges us here. Monsignor Meredith has grown weary in the church; his life has become institutionalized, his faith reduced to an “intellectual conception, an arid assent of the will.” Yet now his words have struck a responsive chord in the Bishop; they have borne out his own feelings about the difficulty of true communication, here specifically between the church and the laity. The Bishop speaks:

“The root of …[the problem], I think, is this: [as priests] we …have a rhetoric of our own, which, like the rhetoric of the politician says much and conveys little. But we are not politicians. We are teachers – teachers of truth which we claim to be essential to man’s salvation. Yet how do we preach it? We talk roundly of faith and hope as if we were making a fetishist’s incantation. What is faith? A blind leap into the hands of God. An inspired act of will which is our only answer to the terrible mystery of where we came from and where we are going. What is hope? A child’s trust in the hand that will lead it out of the terrors that reach from the dark. We preach love and fidelity, as if these were teacup tales – and not bodies writhing on a bed and hot words in dark places, and souls tormented by loneliness and driven to the momentary communion of a kiss. We preach charity and compassion but rarely say what they mean – hands dabbling in sick room messes, wiping infection from syphilitic sores. We talk to the people every Sunday, but our words do not reach them, because we have forgotten our mother tongue.”

 Let that sink in: “We talk to the people… but our words do not reach them because we have forgotten our mother tongue.”

The mother tongue, our “first language,”  is a language of confidence in the presence of the Holy Spirit; a language of certainty about the power of the gospel to transform.

 When will we learn that academic rigor alone will not win the world for Christ? Proclamation and teaching are not enough. Correct doctrine will not do it. The old language, which we need to make new, is the language lived and preached in the power of the Holy Spirit. In the Confessing Movement in the United Methodist Church, we are seeking a renewal of our confession of Orthodox Christianity, a reinvigoration of doctrine. We are contending for the faith once and for all delivered to the saints. I believe we are struggling for the soul of the church. But I know it’s not just a doctrinal struggle.

Recently in my reading in Revelation, it hit me hard: only two of the seven churches of Revelation (Pergamum and Thyatira) were scolded for false doctrine. They had lost their first love. But the glorified Christ talked most about fervency, about closeness to the Lord, about overcoming, about having ears to hear, about watching and praying, about repentance, about his triumphant return, about the new Jerusalem, about our sitting with him on the throne of his glory.

 So the mother tongue, our “first language”, is a language of confidence in the presence of the Holy Spirit, and a language of certainty about the power of the gospel to transform. And overarching it all is a language of relationship that has its beginning, its substance, and its ending in love. The incarnation did not cease with Jesus when the word became flesh. The incarnation must go on and on with us. What Christ has been and done for us we must be and do for others.

The Fairest Of The Seasons by Michael Smith

“Do I stay or do I go, and it is finally I decide, that I’ll be leaving in the fairest of the seasons.” – Jackson Browne

Living in the northeast, I get to witness the changing of the seasons. Each season has its ebb and flow, its ups and downs. When it’s cold we long for summer, until it is too hot outside. We love the beauty of the change of foliage, yet find it a significant nuisance when we have to rake all of the fallen leaves. Spring comes with a birth of new life and another dose of allergy medication. We grow accustomed to change in the weather and expect it.

Why is it, then, that we are still wrapping our minds around change management and leading change within local congregations? We see change every day in our lives; however, change remains so difficult in the congregations we lead. Here is a simple idea – not groundbreaking by any means – but hopefully helpful to you.

Think about seasonal change, or think of change like you think of the seasons.

Why?

Seasons give us a beginning and an end.

Everyone can manage the winter because they know that spring is coming. Sure, it’s uncomfortable for a while, but at least you know it won’t be like this forever – unless you live in Alaska.

So when introducing something new, use the concept of the “trial period.” In churches, we talk so much about eternity that we think that any change we make will be forever. This new program or idea will not be forever, and you know it. You know it because you will probably have to change the new thing you do faster than you would want to. After all, what version of smartphone are you on now? Give it about 20 seconds and a new one will be out. The marketplace is constantly improving and growing.

Are we?

Clergy often fear our evaluation because it’s personal and we realize that what we have offered for years is no longer what people are asking for today. We have gone through seasons in the life of our church, and these seasons change.

So use it to your missional advantage.

Try something – for a season. Have a start date and an end or evaluation date. Give it some time; don’t pull something off the shelf after a week.

Seasons give us permission to try something new.

Go ahead and have that extra Christmas cookie. Why? Because the holiday season gives us permission. If I do that in the middle of the summer I feel bad about myself, but from November 27th to December 25th all is good! We also know that we will be bombarded with infomercials about how to lose all of that holiday weight on January 1st. New Year’s resolutions, right?

In the church, we know that our seasonal life gives us permission to do things differently. The expectations of the seasons also shape our permission-giving. For instance, in the season of Advent you are expected to talk about Incarnation, the birth narrative, or themes around expectation and hope. But with the four weeks of Advent you are given time and space to take a familiar story and be creative and different in your story telling. You can change things while also remaining consistent with the thematic elements: you may have an Advent wreath, but who does the readings each year changes, right? Think of it in that way. How can I take what we normally do and create something new? Yes, that will mean changing things, but don’t worry – it’s only four weeks. At least, that is how you should communicate with those who are fearful.

And here is how  a lot of people will respond:

Week 1: “Well, that was different – not sure if I like that.”

Week 2: “Hey, wait a second, didn’t we do that last week? Is this going to happen again?”

Week 3: “They did it again! I’m not sure I want our church to become a church that does this…oh well, only one more week anyway.”

Week 4: “Last week – it was different, but now it is done. Not too bad after all.”

So take advantage of the permission the season will give you. Think of the natural rhythms of your church. People are more willing to live through Lent because they know that Easter is coming. Let the natural world around us help shape how we create consistent change in our church. Then maybe change won’t be a scary thing after all.

I believe that developing consistent change within the culture of your church will transition a culture from fear of what’s next to the hope of what will be.

One final and helpful part of this is to make sure that it increases in value to the congregation right away. When it snows, it snows. It’s beautiful and we see it. Often in our churches we don’t get to see the effects of a change. Establish early wins and let the “fruit” of the new ministry or change in programming be clearly seen and communicated.

Be encouraged – seasons change.

Birthing A Church by Michael Smith

I am my father, and my son is me.

There will be times in my son’s life when he doesn’t want to admit that we are alike. This will ebb and flow until he reaches the point in his life (much like me and my father) when he accepts that we are related. This is a scary thing to think about as a young father, particularly as one who is about to have another child.

My wife is a superhero, especially on the days when our children are born. I just can’t get over the strength of love it takes to go through such a thing. I sit in the room and just listening to the doctors I start to get queasy. That’s what I am doing now: taking a break from the reality of childbirth to type my thoughts about childbirth. Don’t worry – my wife is fine and I am being a supportive husband! At least for the past 14 hours I have been.

Just before my daughter is born I have the familiar feelings of fear and worry sweep over me. I don’t worry as much about the procedure or her health, but more about how this person is going to be like me. I fear whether or not she will take on the negative aspects of who I am.

We are normally self-deprecating about things like this. I want her to look like her pretty mother and not have my big nose. I want her to have her mother’s joyful spirit and not have my impatience. But this is part of the birthing process – the giving of life. Life is always exchanged and shared. She will be like me. Though she will be fully her own self, there will be parts of her that lead her to acknowledge one day she that, yes, we are related. We are part of the same family.

Leading a church is a lot like childbirth: painful and life-giving all at the same time.

It will look like you.

As pastors we have to understand that as we serve our church, it will begin to look like us. Our shared life will rub off on each other. We will take on the DNA of that local church body and always carry it with us. And part of who we are will always stay with them. We are related after all, and we will start to look like each other.

So many times we fear that the church will only take on the negative aspects of our own identity. This is what we are often consumed with in our meetings or evaluations. Though we may be excelling in several areas, we fear the area where we lack. This fear is warranted because it is true. The church will take on our weak characteristics and it’s important for us to understand this. If we are self-aware and self-differentiated, it does not have to tear us down or hurt the church. In fact, in being aware of what we lack, we can see our inefficiencies and seek to correct them together.

Let me encourage you. The church will also take on your good traits. What makes you who you are, with all of your gifts and graces, will be revealed in the small nuances of ministry, much like how my son’s eyes always remind my wife of me. It is in these moments where we celebrate our togetherness and what it means to be part of the family of God. I may need the DNA of my congregation to rub off on me. I may need to look like them.

It may take some time.

This baby is taking forever! As much as I want my daughter to arrive on my schedule, she has a mind of her own. Even though it didn’t work with my first two kids, I still held out hope that she would come in the way and time that I wanted.

On our journeys we grow and change. We look different as we age. It takes time for us to grow into the full picture of our relatedness. We are often so quick to have our churches mirror us that we don’t allow the time that’s needed to give birth to the church. What if we tried to look like our church instead of wanting the church to look like us all the time? The beauty of the Incarnation is that salvation took some time. It took years, in fact. Give time for your relationships to grow and see what is birthed.

Remember – it might be a painful process. But I believe that through the pain we will find life.

When Leaders Need To Be Led by Elizabeth Glass Turner

It took a while to realize what I was missing.

It does sometimes.

It took sitting in a pew to allow the revelation to dawn on me.

Everyone needs to be led sometimes: especially leaders.

I loved pronouncing the opening line of the call to worship; I loved welcoming the faithful and the not-so-faithful to the communion table; I loved uttering “our Father” and hearing voices join mine. Pastoring my first church, and especially engaging with the flock in communal worship, was a joy.

After a couple of years in ministerial service, I found another distinct joy: sitting in a pew on a rare Sunday away, hearing someone else preach, and being led in worship by someone else.

Most “healthy clergy” initiatives focus on things like physical health (which is good) or individual spiritual development (also good) or even clergy fellowship group participation (another good).

But what about the value of sitting in a pew, receiving communal worship? We all need to be led, to be part of a group of listeners even for an hour. Recently, I read an interesting question posed by a well-known leader: “pastors, do you have a safe house?” The point in question related to time away in a physical space with people with whom you are free to be vulnerable.

Let’s put a twist on it: pastors, do you have a sanctuary? Not the worship space of the church where you serve. Do you have a sanctuary? A place where you can claim safety, peace, anonymity, protection and worship? Maybe as a pastor what you most need is to sneak away to an Episcopalian midweek Eucharist service. Surely “sanctuary” is something clergy members need more often than their yearly vacation. One Protestant pastor I know still cites time he spent at a Catholic monastery as profoundly formative in his vocational journey.

I found sanctuary in Doxa Soma – Christian practice of meditation, prayer, stretching and strengthening through which I can be led (through the marvels of the internet) via live video stream. To have Psalms read to me (which somehow feels so different than opening my own Bible to read a Psalm myself), to be led in prayer and meditation, to be guided through the movements – what blessed relief. I can turn off the responsibility switch in my brain and simply follow and receive. And what an important role to inhabit for a while: that of learner, of follower, of recipient.

North American leaders – in business as in ministry – like to be motivated or inspired or challenged. We want keynote speakers that will give us a half-time speech that will send us to the end zone. But all of those responses still allow – or curse – leaders to feel in control.

The image of Christ here is compelling: fully God, fully human, allowing himself to be baptized – the Divine, being dunked. Over and over again, we hear from the Gospel writers that Jesus went off to a quiet place to pray. If Jesus needed sanctuary, how much more do I?

Lord, we are so much like Simon Peter sometimes – eager, enthusiastic, ready to march ahead or leap into action. And just as he learned, teach us also the value of the truth that even leaders – especially leaders – need to be led…

Leaving A Legacy by Michael Coyner

I Chronicles 22 tells how King David began stockpiling materials for the building of the Temple in Jerusalem. David had been told by God that he would not be the one who would build a temple for the Lord, because of David’s many sins and many killings in war. Rather than pout about that fact, David put his energy into stockpiling materials in hopes that his son Solomon could build the beautiful Temple which was indeed accomplished under Solomon’s reign.

David understood the important of leaving a legacy. He understood that each generation should stockpile resources for the next generation. He accepted that his own failures and inadequacies would prevent him from accomplishing everything he wanted to do during his own lifetime, but he used that fact as a motivation for the future success of those who would come after him.

Perhaps ministry today in the church is not just about the NOW but is also about the NEXT. Perhaps church leaders should always be stockpiling resources (financial resources, new leadership development, strong traditions) in order to help the next generation to fulfill its own ministry.

I am finding that more and more churches and pastors are wanting to develop “succession plans” for their future. Veteran pastors want to see their churches thrive beyond their own retirement, so they are thinking ahead about how best to provide their churches with the next leaders.

I applaud such thinking, but I know it takes a great deal of humility and maturity to admit that our current leadership may not accomplish everything. Accepting our own limitations, including the limitation of time, can lead us to do what King David did – to stockpile resources for the future and to leave a legacy of faithfulness.

May it be so in all of our lives and ministries.

A Sermon For Pastors by Carolyn Moore

Do you mind if we drive around a bit in the Word? I’d like to show pastors some points of interest that have changed the way I understand ministry. If you need to set your GPS, I’ll tell you that we’re going to start in 2 Timothy where we’ll pick up a three-letter key. Then we’ll stop in Luke 9 for a map and we’ll stop for gas in Matthew 8.

That’s where someone is going to ask us: “Have you forgotten how big?”(Remember that question.) And so you won’t have to ask, “Are we there yet?,” we’ll be ready to come home to the Holy Spirit when we hear Jesus telling his disciples to stay right where they are until they receive power from on high.

In the New International Version of 2 Timothy 4:5, I found a three-letter word that seems remarkably poignant for ministry. In this passage, of course, Paul is talking to his friend, Timothy, who he’s mentoring in the ministry and he says this: “But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.”

Until recently, the word I’ve always latched onto in that passage is the word,“evangelist.” My first semester at Asbury, a wonderful evangelist from Australia (Alan Walker) came to speak in chapel. And I went home that night and told my husband, “I want to be an evangelist.” Of course, I had no clue what I was saying. At the time, I thought evangelism was preaching a good message and giving an effective altar call. Or possibly memorizing the four spiritual laws or the Roman Road or working the Evangicube. Or putting tracts in a public bathroom or adding a line to the end of every email that says, “If you love Jesus, forward this to ten friends.”

(I knew a guy who was a genius at asking the ultimate evangelism question – you know the one – “If you die tonight, do you know where you’ll go?” He worked out at the Y every morning, and he said he’d usually wait until he was in the sauna alone with someone – nothing but towels on – and that’s when he’d pop the question.)

I thought that was evangelism and while that may be part of it (though probably not the more effective part), Paul challenges me to think deeper. Here in his letter to Timothy, Paul challenges Timothy to discharge ALL the duties of his ministry. That’s the word that jumped out at me: all. What a loaded three-letter word! It feels like that line at the end of a job description— the one that says, “other duties as assigned.” You don’t find out until you take the job that the “other duties as assigned” take about forty hours of your work week.

What Paul is trying to tell his first-century audience and also me is that evangelism is a package deal. It is preaching and acts of mercy. Word and works. To do the work of an evangelist, we have to discharge all the duties of ministry. Thomas Fuller, a Puritan, once said that the words of the wise are like nails fastened by masters, but our examples are like the hammers that drive them in. Word and works. In other words, what good is a bucketful of nails if you’ve got no hammer?

I think I found those “other duties as assigned” in the first couple of verses of Luke, chapter 9. This is where Jesus sends out the twelve to do evangelism, and here’s how he defines that little word. Luke 9:1-2 says, When Jesus had called the Twelve together, he gave them power and authority to drive out all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them out to preach the kingdom of God and to heal the sick.

So when Jesus gave normal people the power and authority to do evangelism, here’s how he defined that little word “all.” He sent them to drive out demons, cure diseases, preach the Kingdom of God, and heal the sick. Because this is how Jesus believed the Kingdom of God could best be explained. Word and works. Just like Jesus did it; that’s the job description.

To flesh that out, go back to Matthew, chapter 8. This is an amazing chapter, actually — a fireworks display of healing. Right off the bat, Jesus heals a man with leprosy, and by touching him, he heals him all the way through. Then he meets up with a centurion who came to him, asking for help. “Lord,” he said, “my servant lies at home paralyzed and in terrible suffering.” Jesus said to him, “I will go and heal him.” The centurion replied, “Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and that one, ‘Come,’ and he comes. I say to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” When Jesus heard this, he was astonished and said to those following him, “I tell you the truth, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith…Then Jesus said to the centurion, “Go! It will be done just as you believed it would.” And his servant was healed at that very hour. (Matthew 8:5-10, 13)

Now, contrast this guy’s faith with something that happens just a few paragraphs down in the same chapter of Matthew. They’ve been healing people and casting out demons and now Jesus has crawled in a boat just to get away from the crowd for a bit. To take a nap. The followers and Jesus are all there in a boat crossing a lake when a furious storm crops up and scares the heck out of his disciples. Jesus is sleeping, of course, so they wake him and that’s when he says, “Oh, you of little faith, why are you so afraid?”

Picture this: On one hand we’ve got a handful of guys who make their living evangelizing and they are scared to death and faithless. On the other hand we’ve got your average Joe Centurion who actually knows nothing for sure, except his need. And the power of God.

I understand these people better than I want to admit. I know what it means to become so focused on the work and the politics and the systems and the next big book that’s going to tell pastors how to really do it right, that I can forget what Jesus is capable of and why he’s filled me with the Holy Spirit and what he’s called me to do. Somehow (I’m sure this is not the correct theological language), it seems like the Spirit leaks out. Or maybe I push him out. I know it has happened when I find myself telling God how big my storm is, rather than telling my storm how big my God is.

Does this sound familiar?

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 this scene in Joe vs. the Volcano. It comes after they’ve survived a typhoon and a shipwreck and they are stranded on a raft in the middle of the Pacific. They’ve 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 right out. Before we know it, we’ve forgotten just what it is we signed on for, and just how big our God is. Have you forgotten how big? I wonder how it might change the spiritual atmosphere if we could all just put our hands in the air and confess together, “God, I forgot how big!”

My experience after fifteen years of ministry and the start of two congregations is that the only thing standing between me and complete burn-out is not success, but the power of God. It is the power of God that saves me from myself. And make no mistake about it: until we get the bigness of God, we won’t be qualified to discharge the “other duties as assigned.” All the duties of ministry. To cast out demons, cure diseases, proclaim the Kingdom, heal the sick. Because that’s what they are hungry for, these people who come limping into our faith communities. And clearly, this is the work of ministry Jesus expected of his followers.

But here’s the shame of it. The very things Jesus sent his followers out to do are the very things we’ve lost faith in. In fact, our culture has come to accept an hour in church and a blessing before meals as the center of the Christian experience, while driving out demons and curing diseases…well, that’s just weird. But folks, when I read in my Bible what Jesus did and then read what he teaches followers to do, this is what I hear: that followers have power and authority to drive out demons, cure diseases, proclaim the coming Kingdom and heal things that destroy people’s lives. This is the center of the gospel, and the power of it!

I once visited with a pastor who serves a downtown church. We talked about a mission center he was asking his church to develop for their community and he said, “Some of our people don’t get what we’re doing. And I tell them, ‘If you knew Jesus better, you’d get it.’” He went on. “I’m trying to get my people to meet Jesus, so they’ll get it.” Because when we get Jesus, we get what it means to follow him. And as we follow, we find ourselves more and more in the company of the broken-hearted, 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 that big-hearted, but because God is that big.

This is where most of us need to glance at our spiritual GPS. We understand the destination, but how do we get there from here? Jesus maps it out plainly to his followers in the last chapter of Luke, even using Paul’s powerful three-letter word. There he is, standing with his friends after the resurrection and he says, “Yes, it was written long ago that the Messiah would suffer and die and rise from the dead on the third day. It was also written that this message would be proclaimed in the authority of his name to all the nations, beginning in Jerusalem: ‘There is forgiveness of sins for all who repent.’” (and then Jesus says …listen to this) “You are witnesses of all these things. And now I will send the Holy Spirit, just as my Father promised. But (and this is the punchline) stay here in the city until the Holy Spirit comes and fills you with power from heaven.” (Luke 24:46-49, NLT)

Here’s the secret: don’t leave here until the Holy Spirit comes and fills you with power from heaven. This seems too simplistic to be enough, but it is a critical piece. The fact is, Jesus’ Church has met its quota of pastors who can get the bulletin printed, follow an order of worship and preach three points and a poem. But the Kingdom Church is starving — and “the fields are white” — for Spirit-filled followers who are willing to do all the work of an evangelist.

Whether you are worn out or burned out, you owe it to yourself and your sense of call to find a place of prayer, then shake the gates of heaven asking for the Holy Spirit to come and fill you, or fill you again. Don’t leave that place until your heart aches again for those who are hungry for healing and waiting for someone to come, who brings with them Holy-Spirit power to cast out demons, cure diseases, proclaim the Kingdom and heal the sick. Don’t let go of the hem of Jesus’ garment you until you’ve received that. After all, what good is a bucketful of nails if you’ve got no hammer?

The Big Ask by John Meunier

My son and I were talking about church and politics the other day. He works in politics. I am a pastor. He was talking about the way he recruits people to work on campaigns and take leadership in the organization. It comes down to explaining the plan the campaign has for winning the race and asking the person to do some specific thing. Once you’ve sold them on the soundness of your plan, you don’t make an open-ended request for help, you get concrete. Can you give me $500? Can you volunteer two hours on Thursday? Will you commit to recruit five other volunteers to help out next week?

I told him that was very helpful as I think about the challenges of recruiting help in the church and evangelism. Can we articulate “our plan” and do we ask people to do specific things? Are we concrete enough when we make “the ask”?

And then my son followed up with his concerns.

In the church, he said, there are two problems. First, in a political campaign you have a target date. The election is coming and you have to get more than 50% of the votes by that date. It makes it easy to focus attention. Second, in politics, he said, you always know that there are going to be a lot of people who disagree with your or don’t like you.

In the church, we often are so soft about what we are doing that we can’t speak to people about concrete objectives and goals. We can’t even tell whether we are doing well because we don’t know what doing well looks like. And, my son observed, we often seem more concerned about everyone liking us than speaking what we believe.

As we chatted, I found myself thinking about John Wesley who used to preach while people threw rocks at him because he considered preaching the gospel so important that it was worth the risk.

I know many of my brothers and sisters are engaged in bold evangelism and discipleship. May more of us remember that great gift it is to value what we are doing more than we value the good opinion of other people.

Scars Of Wisdom by Cole Bodkin

“What kind of advice can I offer you? I’m younger than you.”

My friend’s reflection resonates with many younger folks in ministry. In essence it asks, “Can young people offer wisdom to those who are (much) older than themselves?” That question haunts many young pastors and ministers as they wrestle with their vocation. Whether or not Timothy was in his mid-twenties or early thirties (some think he was in his forties), this age demographic clings onto 1 Timothy 4:12 with their dear life. I find myself in this lot, too. In addition to Timothy’s exhortation, we might also encourage one another that (s)he is seminary trained, and therefore has acquired a particular knowledge in biblical interpretation or other skill sets which have helped equip us for the challenge and task that lies before us.

But what about wisdom?

In college, I remember one of my professors inviting our class to brainstorm and define wisdom. We differentiated between knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge was reduced to acquired information, facts, or skills, whereas wisdom appeared to be a type of knowledge that was acquired mostly through experience. We collegians might have knowledge, but the people with white or gray hair were usually the ones who had acquired wisdom.

But can one with little or no white hair impart wisdom to the one whose head is full of it?

As I inch towards 30, I am not as terrified about aging as many of my contemporaries. I know that though my body may be wasting away, inwardly I’m being renewed day by day (2 Cor 4:16). I no longer possess the 18-year old physique. If I play an hour of basketball, I’m sore for three days.

Nevertheless, I’m getting to know the Lord more day by day. I’m learning that as I progress down this path of life, my journey of experiences is helping shape me into one who possesses more wisdom. Moreover, I’m discovering that wisdom can often be found near scars.

Growing up, I played competitive basketball throughout the year. I was prone to injuring my face. After a few trips to the hospital (broken nose, two busted eyes, busted cheek, and chin), my dad told me, “Cole, I think you are putting your face in the wrong places.” He put into words what I was becoming all too aware of through my experiences.

One of the injuries that I acquired was in the 7th grade county championship game. I was going after a ball full steam and a guy fouled me resulting in my chin slamming against the hardwood. I experienced a little pain, then placed my hand under my chin to find my hand covered in blood. This required a few stitches, and a scar formed underneath my chin. Surprisingly, as I progressed in age, no hair would grow out of the scar. Sporting a beard for the past several years, there have been more than a few occasions in which someone points out the “bald” spot. I, then, rehash the story. But over the past year, I’ve noticed something else taking place: as white hairs are starting to be sprinkled into my auburn hair, a patch of white has begun to form near the scar.

This white patch in the midst of a scar has led me to reflect on wisdom. As we live life and run full speed, we are going to be fouled by this lost and broken world. It might result in pain or hurt, but if you take yourself to the Doctor there will be healing. Scars will form. If true healing sets in, you will forgive, but you won’t forget.

When I first learned about how deaf persons sign Jesus Christ, I cried. They put their pointer finger into the middle of the palms of each hand going back and forth from one hand to the other. The symbolic gesture is hugely important, because it highlights that the risen, glorified Savior decided to reveal himself to his disciples by showing them his hands and his side, i.e., his scars (see John 20). The resurrected Lord is the crucified Lord, the one who went to the cross in order that we might have life. His scars do not disappear despite being in a glorified state.

But there’s more. Jesus, Wisdom incarnate, commissions his followers with this threefold mandate in John 20:19-23:

1) As the Father sends me, so I send you;

2) Receive the Holy Spirit;

3) Forgive sins and they will be forgiven; retain them and they will be retained.

The Lord is commissioning us, through the power of the Holy Spirit, to go out into the lost and broken world whereby we will surely incur hurtful wounds and subsequent scars. In those places, we will be able to share the sufferings (Phil 3:10-11) and forgiveness of the Crucified One, and with Paul say, “ I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Gal 2:20).

Through time and faithfulness to the Lord, you may also be able to share Paul’s words, potentially to those who look down their noses at your age, and say “From now on let no one cause trouble for me, for I bear on my body the scars of Jesus” (Gal 6:17; cf. 2 Cor 6:4–6; 11:23–30).

Brother and sisters, may we bear the marks of Christ and share the loving forgiveness of the Crucified One, and in doing so grow in wisdom and stature.

Clay Footed, Spirit-Filled: Transition by Kim Reisman

These are days of major transition for me. When the fall arrives I will assume the position of World Director of World Methodist Evangelism. In conversation with numerous people I’ve mentioned the huge shoes I’ll be filling in following Dr. Eddie Fox in this position. For 25 years Eddie has been a Spirit-filled, visionary leader. He’s got huge shoes!

The whole image of filling someone’s shoes got me thinking about my feet; not just about my feet in general – it was about my clay feet. I’m all too aware that I’ve got them. But thankfully, some of my most powerful spiritual experiences have come when I’ve recognized that fact rather than denied it. So as I prepare for this new phase of ministry, I’m counting on the possibility that each of us can be both clay footed and Spirit-filled. I’m counting on the possibility that despite our inadequacies and mistakes, God’s grace prevails. Thankfully my hope is consistent with Scripture. Moses stuttered; Peter was a doofus; and Paul was a hard-core persecutor.

I’m counting on all this because one of the truths of the gospel is that God’s grace prevails not because of us but despite us. We carry the treasure of God’s grace in a clay jar so that it can be clear that its power comes not from us but from God. In this time of transition, I believe one of the most important things I can remember is that I am only an errand runner for the Spirit. After all, for me, this faith thing started when I recognized God saying, “Light up the darkness!” and my life filled up with light as I saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful. So if people only look at me, they might well miss the brightness.

I know I’m not the only one with clay feet. We’ve all got them – even our most beloved leaders and mentors. We can’t afford to forget that fact. If we do, we risk becoming like the older brother who refused to join the party when his wayward younger brother returned home. We risk becoming self-satisfied and self-righteous – our brothers and sisters may be lost and in need of finding, but we certainly aren’t. We’re enlightened, open-minded; we never left home in the first place. That kind of self-certainty doesn’t tend to lead to being Spirit-filled. Something tells me that as long as the older brother refused to experience the party, he was going to miss out on experiencing the Spirit as well.

It’s not only about overlooking our clay feet. It’s just as dangerous to keep them covered, working our butts off to make sure no one notices. When we do that we become so intent on keeping up appearances and making sure our outsides are presentable that we miss out on the transformative power of the Spirit on our insides.

Scripture says that we’re the unadorned clay pots into which God has poured God’s precious message. That means that clay feet or no, in every ministry transition God generously lets us in on what God’s doing in the world. So if we’ve all got clay feet then a first step toward being Spirit-filled is to take honest stock of them. Maybe that first step is realizing how clumsy our clay feet really are; how much pain they can inflict when used to step on, bump into or stomp on others. Maybe if we’re truly to be the unadorned clay pots into which God has poured God’s grace, we need to be exceedingly cautious about how we tread in the lives of others.

Earlier this year I traveled to Nigeria to speak to a group of 20,000+ women over the course of four days. Many of these women had to walk a full day just to get there. It was a transformative, Spirit-filled time. Last week I had lunch with a woman who had gotten my name from her pastor. After googling me, she wanted to “pick my brain” about ministry and life. Another Spirit-filled time.

These kinds of moments have come and gone in my ministry, and more are sure to unfold with this transition; as they do, I need to continually ask myself, how am I treading? Lightly? With grace? Out in the open? Is it about me? Or am I the errand runner for the Spirit I need to be? Sadly for me, as my ministry moves forward, people are destined to discover my clay feet – if they haven’t already. I can only pray that others won’t miss the brightness because they are looking only at me.