In 1 Peter 2:5, Peter says: "...you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."
This is the verse that Pastor Petersen referred to last night at our Annual Meeting in reference to the focus of our new construction at Central Baptist Church. From the very beginning of the project, the focus has continued to be on God, what He is doing in and through the people of Central and what direction He is leading us.
This verse seems to capture that focus and was a great reminder for me on a night when I would stand in awe of the size and magnitude of the structure being built. This is what gripped me last night (again, thanks to what God has been doing already and what I believe He will continue to do): all I could think about as I was walking through the huge hallway and gawking at all of the rooms and space and peering down into the gym was, "Think of the people that we can reach for Christ."
I found myself so excited about what God might do in this place. I found myself praising Him for providing for the expenses for the project so far. Then, it hit me. Are we ready? Are we ready for the opportunities that God has in store for us? How is He preparing us?
As Peter says, we are "living stones...being built into a spiritual house". The questions that come to me are, "How am I being built?" and "What am I being built for (what purpose)?" The time is now for God to prepare us for what we will do when the new sanctuary is open and the gym is ready to be used. There will be more opportunity for people to come for events, concerts, basketball leagues, youth events, and Sunday morning worship. The question for each of us is: "Where do I fit into the spiritual house? What is my role? What is my sacrifice?"
As Peter said, our purpose is to "be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ." Over the next few months, I am challenging myself - and you - to seek God's direction for your involvement at Central. There is no doubt going to be a lot of adjustments for everyone. It will be different for everyone. The cool part about change is that there are new opportunities that open up. What is God stirring up in your heart? Pray about it. Talk about it with others. Watch what happens, because God will knock your socks off if you just ask Him - and there's nothing more fun to be a part of. Oh, did I mention to pray - there is nothing more important or significant we can do.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Monday, January 16, 2006
Are you plugged in - or unplugged?
http://www.christianitytoday.com/le/2005/003/23.96.html
Continuous Voltage
Spiritual strength, as Billy Graham experienced it, means remaining connected to your power Source.
by Harold Myra and Marshall Shelley
Billy Graham's colleagues often speak of the constant pressure Billy has always felt. It's easy to see why. Imagine the pressure of conducting the funeral for the disgraced former President Richard Nixon while the nation skeptically watched and listened for every nuance. Imagine the emotional demands on him when he conducted the memorial service after the Oklahoma City bombing.
The service at the National Cathedral right after the September 11 attacks presented perhaps the greatest pressure of all. The nation was in deep shock; the entire world would be watching on television. Billy's words and tone, both for Americans and for people of all other nations, had to be just right.
That would be challenge enough for a person at the height of his strength. But it was a frail octogenarian with serious health problems who mounted the platform with steady purpose and told the nation, "God is our refuge and strength; an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way, and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea."
With inner strength, Billy declared, "You may be angry at God. I want to assure you that God understands these feelings you have. But God can be trusted, even when life seems at its darkest. From the cross, God declares, 'I love you. I know the heartaches and the sorrows and the pains you feel, but I love you.'
"This has been a terrible week with many tears. But also it's been a week of great faith. … And [remember] the words of that familiar hymn that Andrew Young quoted, 'Fear not, I am with thee. Oh, be not dismayed, for I am thy God and will still give thee aid.'"
Despite his frailty, Billy's presence, poise, and message touched the sorrows and fears and brought hope and a deeply Christian response to his nation and to the world. He found the inner resources to rise to that momentous occasion.
Even in the latter years of his eventful ministry, Billy continued in the nitty-gritty of leading his organization; continued to sweat over the funding of three events in Amsterdam that brought together 10,000 itinerant evangelists, 70 percent of them from poor, developing countries; continued to appear on news shows to represent the gospel; continued to minister to every U.S. president of his era. In the phrase voiced by President George W. Bush when Billy was hospitalized and unable to attend the funeral of Ronald Reagan, Billy was "the nation's pastor"—but he was also the leader of an organization and of a vast movement.
How could he maintain the strength and sense of commitment to do all that for more than sixty years?
Billy has not been impervious to the pressures; his body and psyche have paid a steep price. But he has taken his own advice, so often expressed in his newspaper columns, books, and articles. He has continually plugged himself into the spiritual and psychological voltage that has made this half-century saga possible.
From the beginning, his spiritual power has come from prayer and the Bible. His colleague, T. W. Wilson, called him "the most completely disciplined person I have ever known." The discipline started around 7:00 a.m. each day, when he would read five psalms and one chapter of Proverbs. He started there because, as he often said, the psalms showed him how to relate to God, while Proverbs taught him how to relate to people. After breakfast he would pray and study more Scripture. Even under the pressure of travel schedules moving him from city to city, often through many time zones, he strove to study and pray each morning.
Some close to Billy describe him as more adaptive to circumstances in fitting in study and prayer, but all emphasize his spending large amounts of time connecting with his source of wisdom, cleansing, and power.
As Billy said, "Unless the soul is fed and exercised daily, it becomes weak and shriveled. It remains discontented, confused, restless."
Even in his early days of youthful vigor, he was intensely aware of his need for that power.
We talked about that with Billy's younger brother, Melvin Graham, shortly before Melvin passed away.
When Billy left the family farm at age 20, Melvin had stayed on—back when plowing was done with mules. At nearly 80 years old, Melvin was still active in land development.
We asked, "Where do you think Billy's spiritual growth came from?"
"Billy Frank would interact with just about anybody," he said. "It didn't matter who they were, kings or paupers. He studied a lot. He prayed a lot. He'd get on his knees and flatten out on the ground and call on the Lord. I've seen him."
Melvin suddenly pulled up his chin and said, "Tell you what—there was a fella named Bill Henderson, had a little grocery store in the black section of Charlotte—just a run-down little dump of a place. He was a tiny guy. He had long sleeves that came way down, and he wore a tie that hung down below his waist. But I tell you, that little old man, he knew the Bible!
"This was probably the late forties," Melvin explained, "and Billy had been around a lot of places."
We nodded, remembering this was when Billy was United Airlines' top traveler and had preached in many European cities.
Melvin wagged his head in wonder. "Henderson barely made a living. It was a place people would come to get chewing tobacco and stuff like that. Most people loved him, but that little man got beat up many times, got his store robbed time and time again, but he just loved the Lord. Billy loved to hear Bill Henderson tell him about the Scriptures, because he lived them; it wasn't weekend Christianity. And Henderson could pray. He'd pray for Billy and his young ministry. And he witnessed all the time."
"Did this influence Billy's focus on evangelism?"
"Absolutely," replied Melvin. "In the afternoons Billy would go there and sit on an old crate—I don't think they had a chair in the place—and let Bill teach him."
Melvin's word picture is instructive: young Billy Graham, while traveling widely to address large audiences, taking time to sit on a crate to learn from Bill Henderson. This image was consistent as we interviewed those who knew Billy: he was constantly learning, from self-taught store owners to executives, professors, pastors, presidents—and his candid, well-read wife. We heard over and over again, "He was always learning, always teachable."
When strength fades
When Billy's 1957 New York campaign was so effective that the pastors asked him to stay for another month of meetings, he told his associate Grady Wilson he didn't think he could make it even one more day. "All of my strength has departed from me," he said. "I've preached all the material I can lay my hands on. Yet God wants me here."
In all, he wound up preaching virtually every night for over three months in Madison Square Garden and making additional public appearances and speaking other times during the day. Grady believed it was "the prayers of people all over the world" that gave Billy the needed stamina for the task. Yet he also believed that the grueling time in New York drew down his reserves. "Since that time, I don't believe he's ever regained all his strength."
Cliff Barrows agrees. "Bill was so weary in the latter few weeks, he felt he just couldn't go another day, but the Lord kept giving him strength. But at the end of the meetings, something left him, something came out of him physically that has never been replaced." Until then a highly energetic preacher, afterward the active and rapid-fire delivery began to be replaced by a quieter strength.
Graham cut back on the number of crusades he held. Billy's autobiography lists 19 crusades he held in 1961. For 1962, it lists six.
Significantly, in 1962, while Graham conducted a crusade in Chicago, his media adviser, Walter Bennett, offered advice to some senior aides of Martin Luther King Jr., whom Billy had met and invited to give a prayer at the watershed New York City meetings.
Bennett analyzed the King team's approach to event organization and media relations. He warned that King would burn out if the minister continued his break-neck pace of speaking at small churches before modest audiences. Bennett suggested that King should aim for fewer events but more large-scale.
Perhaps that advice influenced the King team. One year later, King exhibited exceptional media savvy and organizational acumen during his defining moment, the March on Washington, where he made his historic "I have a dream" speech.
Billy had learned that not only is it important to connect to continuous voltage, it's also vital to monitor the way the energy is expended.
Despite a recurring sense of being drained, Billy didn't quit. Pastor Warren Wiersbe said: "When Billy stood up to speak one night, I thought, This guy is not going to make it. You could tell he was not at his best physically; he just didn't look like he was up to it. And then something happened, like you plugged in a computer—that power was there. The minute he stepped into that pulpit and opened his Bible, something happened. I've heard him say that when he gets up to preach, he feels like electricity is going through him."
This is the picture so often described by his colleagues: weakness drawing on the Spirit.
Prayer's quiet intensity
One of Billy's crusade organizers, Rick Marshall, in his first meeting with Billy, was amazed by his being so open about his weakness and by his humble prayers. "I remember thinking to myself, This is Billy Graham? It was such a contrast to the persona I had watched filling the stadium with his booming voice and authority. But when I was actually with the man, I was overwhelmed by the humility, the raw honesty before God about his own inability and physical limitations."
Rick quoted Paul's statement, "When I am weak, then I am strong," as the basis for this strange mixture of strength through weakness. Like Paul, Billy leaned into his weaknesses.
"Now think about it," Rick said. "If anyone could have been confident, it would have been Billy. But I never saw that. I saw only humility and a bowed head. In fact, I made a point for the last twenty campaigns to bring a team of pastors to pray with him every night before he went into the pulpit. That, I think, became for him one of the most important moments. It was his way, too, of saying, 'I don't do this in my own strength.'"
Billy described it this way: "When we come to the end of ourselves, we come to the beginning of God."
"Every time I give an invitation, I am in an attitude of prayer," he says. "I feel emotionally, physically, and spiritually drained. It becomes a spiritual battle of such proportions that sometimes I feel faint. There is an inward groaning and agonizing in prayer that I cannot possibly put into words."
This intensity in prayer was even at the humble beginnings of his ministry. Biographer William Martin recounts the story from Roy Gustafson, one of Billy's groomsmen and a close colleague. Roy, Billy, and two other men were walking out in the hills, talking about an important decision. They agreed to pray. Billy said, "Let's get down on our knees."
Roy was wearing his only good suit, so he got his handkerchief out, laid it down carefully, and knelt on it. As they prayed, Billy's voice sounded muffled to him. Roy opened his eyes and saw that while three of them were gingerly kneeling, Billy was flung out prostrate on the ground, praying fervently, oblivious to the dirt.
Billy's prayer connection was not only unusually fervent, it was also as natural to him as breathing. Perhaps most of the time his prayer life was not overt and conscious but more like a computer application that runs in the background—fully functioning but not seen on the screen.
A. Larry Ross, who served as Billy's director of media and public relations for more than 23 years, told us about his initial discovery of this side of Billy's prayer connection.
"The very first time I set up a network interview for Mr. Graham was with NBC's Today show in 1982. I went in the day before to meet with the producers and ensure everything was set. I assumed Mr. Graham would want to have a time of prayer before he went on national television, so I secured a private room. After we arrived at the studio the following morning, I pulled T. W. Wilson aside and said, 'Just so you know, I have a room down the hall where we can go to have a word of prayer before he goes on TV.'
"T.W. smiled at me and said, 'You know, Larry, Mr. Graham started praying when he got up this morning, he prayed while he was eating his breakfast, he prayed on the way over here in the car they sent for us, and he'll probably be praying all through the interview. Let's just say that Mr. Graham likes to stay "prayed up" all the time.'
"We didn't need to use that room," Ross added. "That was a great lesson for me to learn as a young man."
Trust the power given
Because Billy realized the power didn't come from him but came through him, he didn't feel obligated to overreach with his methods.
Jack Hayford, himself a powerful preacher, observed, "Billy Graham reveals a remarkable absence of the superficial, of hype, or of pandering to the crowd. His communication consistently avoids exaggeration or 'slick' remarks. There's never been anything cutesy or clever about his style. There are no grandiose claims or stunts employed to attract attention. Graham merely bows in prayer while seekers come forward—moved by God, not a manipulative appeal."
That confidence in the power of the message frees the leader from having to work over-hard on presentation techniques to convince the hearers. When a basketball player is not in a position to take a shot but puts it up anyway, coaches call it "forcing the shot."
Forced shots are usually ineffective. Coaches will tell players to wait until they're in a good position, then the shot has a better chance of success. Likewise, people can sense that efforts are forced when a leader isn't convinced his message has spiritual power.
Because Billy was well connected to his continuous voltage, he knew where the power came from. He simply made himself available to receive it.
Harold Myra is CEO of Christianity Today International.
Marshall Shelley is editor of Leadership and a vice president of Christianity Today International.
Next year marks the 50th anniversary of the founding of Leadership's sister publication Christianity Today, which was envisioned and launched by Billy Graham. In preparing for that event, Christianity Today International CEO Harold Myra and Leadership editor Marshall Shelley felt the story of Billy's leadership had not adequately been told. Their book The Leadership Secrets of Billy Graham (Zondervan, 2005) explores the public and the private sides of Billy's influence and identifies the transferable principles behind his leadership that can benefit church, business, and other kinds of leaders.
This article is adapted from the book.
Copyright © 2005 by the author or Christianity Today International/Leadership Journal.
Continuous Voltage
Spiritual strength, as Billy Graham experienced it, means remaining connected to your power Source.
by Harold Myra and Marshall Shelley
Billy Graham's colleagues often speak of the constant pressure Billy has always felt. It's easy to see why. Imagine the pressure of conducting the funeral for the disgraced former President Richard Nixon while the nation skeptically watched and listened for every nuance. Imagine the emotional demands on him when he conducted the memorial service after the Oklahoma City bombing.
The service at the National Cathedral right after the September 11 attacks presented perhaps the greatest pressure of all. The nation was in deep shock; the entire world would be watching on television. Billy's words and tone, both for Americans and for people of all other nations, had to be just right.
That would be challenge enough for a person at the height of his strength. But it was a frail octogenarian with serious health problems who mounted the platform with steady purpose and told the nation, "God is our refuge and strength; an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way, and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea."
With inner strength, Billy declared, "You may be angry at God. I want to assure you that God understands these feelings you have. But God can be trusted, even when life seems at its darkest. From the cross, God declares, 'I love you. I know the heartaches and the sorrows and the pains you feel, but I love you.'
"This has been a terrible week with many tears. But also it's been a week of great faith. … And [remember] the words of that familiar hymn that Andrew Young quoted, 'Fear not, I am with thee. Oh, be not dismayed, for I am thy God and will still give thee aid.'"
Despite his frailty, Billy's presence, poise, and message touched the sorrows and fears and brought hope and a deeply Christian response to his nation and to the world. He found the inner resources to rise to that momentous occasion.
Even in the latter years of his eventful ministry, Billy continued in the nitty-gritty of leading his organization; continued to sweat over the funding of three events in Amsterdam that brought together 10,000 itinerant evangelists, 70 percent of them from poor, developing countries; continued to appear on news shows to represent the gospel; continued to minister to every U.S. president of his era. In the phrase voiced by President George W. Bush when Billy was hospitalized and unable to attend the funeral of Ronald Reagan, Billy was "the nation's pastor"—but he was also the leader of an organization and of a vast movement.
How could he maintain the strength and sense of commitment to do all that for more than sixty years?
Billy has not been impervious to the pressures; his body and psyche have paid a steep price. But he has taken his own advice, so often expressed in his newspaper columns, books, and articles. He has continually plugged himself into the spiritual and psychological voltage that has made this half-century saga possible.
From the beginning, his spiritual power has come from prayer and the Bible. His colleague, T. W. Wilson, called him "the most completely disciplined person I have ever known." The discipline started around 7:00 a.m. each day, when he would read five psalms and one chapter of Proverbs. He started there because, as he often said, the psalms showed him how to relate to God, while Proverbs taught him how to relate to people. After breakfast he would pray and study more Scripture. Even under the pressure of travel schedules moving him from city to city, often through many time zones, he strove to study and pray each morning.
Some close to Billy describe him as more adaptive to circumstances in fitting in study and prayer, but all emphasize his spending large amounts of time connecting with his source of wisdom, cleansing, and power.
As Billy said, "Unless the soul is fed and exercised daily, it becomes weak and shriveled. It remains discontented, confused, restless."
Even in his early days of youthful vigor, he was intensely aware of his need for that power.
We talked about that with Billy's younger brother, Melvin Graham, shortly before Melvin passed away.
When Billy left the family farm at age 20, Melvin had stayed on—back when plowing was done with mules. At nearly 80 years old, Melvin was still active in land development.
We asked, "Where do you think Billy's spiritual growth came from?"
"Billy Frank would interact with just about anybody," he said. "It didn't matter who they were, kings or paupers. He studied a lot. He prayed a lot. He'd get on his knees and flatten out on the ground and call on the Lord. I've seen him."
Melvin suddenly pulled up his chin and said, "Tell you what—there was a fella named Bill Henderson, had a little grocery store in the black section of Charlotte—just a run-down little dump of a place. He was a tiny guy. He had long sleeves that came way down, and he wore a tie that hung down below his waist. But I tell you, that little old man, he knew the Bible!
"This was probably the late forties," Melvin explained, "and Billy had been around a lot of places."
We nodded, remembering this was when Billy was United Airlines' top traveler and had preached in many European cities.
Melvin wagged his head in wonder. "Henderson barely made a living. It was a place people would come to get chewing tobacco and stuff like that. Most people loved him, but that little man got beat up many times, got his store robbed time and time again, but he just loved the Lord. Billy loved to hear Bill Henderson tell him about the Scriptures, because he lived them; it wasn't weekend Christianity. And Henderson could pray. He'd pray for Billy and his young ministry. And he witnessed all the time."
"Did this influence Billy's focus on evangelism?"
"Absolutely," replied Melvin. "In the afternoons Billy would go there and sit on an old crate—I don't think they had a chair in the place—and let Bill teach him."
Melvin's word picture is instructive: young Billy Graham, while traveling widely to address large audiences, taking time to sit on a crate to learn from Bill Henderson. This image was consistent as we interviewed those who knew Billy: he was constantly learning, from self-taught store owners to executives, professors, pastors, presidents—and his candid, well-read wife. We heard over and over again, "He was always learning, always teachable."
When strength fades
When Billy's 1957 New York campaign was so effective that the pastors asked him to stay for another month of meetings, he told his associate Grady Wilson he didn't think he could make it even one more day. "All of my strength has departed from me," he said. "I've preached all the material I can lay my hands on. Yet God wants me here."
In all, he wound up preaching virtually every night for over three months in Madison Square Garden and making additional public appearances and speaking other times during the day. Grady believed it was "the prayers of people all over the world" that gave Billy the needed stamina for the task. Yet he also believed that the grueling time in New York drew down his reserves. "Since that time, I don't believe he's ever regained all his strength."
Cliff Barrows agrees. "Bill was so weary in the latter few weeks, he felt he just couldn't go another day, but the Lord kept giving him strength. But at the end of the meetings, something left him, something came out of him physically that has never been replaced." Until then a highly energetic preacher, afterward the active and rapid-fire delivery began to be replaced by a quieter strength.
Graham cut back on the number of crusades he held. Billy's autobiography lists 19 crusades he held in 1961. For 1962, it lists six.
Significantly, in 1962, while Graham conducted a crusade in Chicago, his media adviser, Walter Bennett, offered advice to some senior aides of Martin Luther King Jr., whom Billy had met and invited to give a prayer at the watershed New York City meetings.
Bennett analyzed the King team's approach to event organization and media relations. He warned that King would burn out if the minister continued his break-neck pace of speaking at small churches before modest audiences. Bennett suggested that King should aim for fewer events but more large-scale.
Perhaps that advice influenced the King team. One year later, King exhibited exceptional media savvy and organizational acumen during his defining moment, the March on Washington, where he made his historic "I have a dream" speech.
Billy had learned that not only is it important to connect to continuous voltage, it's also vital to monitor the way the energy is expended.
Despite a recurring sense of being drained, Billy didn't quit. Pastor Warren Wiersbe said: "When Billy stood up to speak one night, I thought, This guy is not going to make it. You could tell he was not at his best physically; he just didn't look like he was up to it. And then something happened, like you plugged in a computer—that power was there. The minute he stepped into that pulpit and opened his Bible, something happened. I've heard him say that when he gets up to preach, he feels like electricity is going through him."
This is the picture so often described by his colleagues: weakness drawing on the Spirit.
Prayer's quiet intensity
One of Billy's crusade organizers, Rick Marshall, in his first meeting with Billy, was amazed by his being so open about his weakness and by his humble prayers. "I remember thinking to myself, This is Billy Graham? It was such a contrast to the persona I had watched filling the stadium with his booming voice and authority. But when I was actually with the man, I was overwhelmed by the humility, the raw honesty before God about his own inability and physical limitations."
Rick quoted Paul's statement, "When I am weak, then I am strong," as the basis for this strange mixture of strength through weakness. Like Paul, Billy leaned into his weaknesses.
"Now think about it," Rick said. "If anyone could have been confident, it would have been Billy. But I never saw that. I saw only humility and a bowed head. In fact, I made a point for the last twenty campaigns to bring a team of pastors to pray with him every night before he went into the pulpit. That, I think, became for him one of the most important moments. It was his way, too, of saying, 'I don't do this in my own strength.'"
Billy described it this way: "When we come to the end of ourselves, we come to the beginning of God."
"Every time I give an invitation, I am in an attitude of prayer," he says. "I feel emotionally, physically, and spiritually drained. It becomes a spiritual battle of such proportions that sometimes I feel faint. There is an inward groaning and agonizing in prayer that I cannot possibly put into words."
This intensity in prayer was even at the humble beginnings of his ministry. Biographer William Martin recounts the story from Roy Gustafson, one of Billy's groomsmen and a close colleague. Roy, Billy, and two other men were walking out in the hills, talking about an important decision. They agreed to pray. Billy said, "Let's get down on our knees."
Roy was wearing his only good suit, so he got his handkerchief out, laid it down carefully, and knelt on it. As they prayed, Billy's voice sounded muffled to him. Roy opened his eyes and saw that while three of them were gingerly kneeling, Billy was flung out prostrate on the ground, praying fervently, oblivious to the dirt.
Billy's prayer connection was not only unusually fervent, it was also as natural to him as breathing. Perhaps most of the time his prayer life was not overt and conscious but more like a computer application that runs in the background—fully functioning but not seen on the screen.
A. Larry Ross, who served as Billy's director of media and public relations for more than 23 years, told us about his initial discovery of this side of Billy's prayer connection.
"The very first time I set up a network interview for Mr. Graham was with NBC's Today show in 1982. I went in the day before to meet with the producers and ensure everything was set. I assumed Mr. Graham would want to have a time of prayer before he went on national television, so I secured a private room. After we arrived at the studio the following morning, I pulled T. W. Wilson aside and said, 'Just so you know, I have a room down the hall where we can go to have a word of prayer before he goes on TV.'
"T.W. smiled at me and said, 'You know, Larry, Mr. Graham started praying when he got up this morning, he prayed while he was eating his breakfast, he prayed on the way over here in the car they sent for us, and he'll probably be praying all through the interview. Let's just say that Mr. Graham likes to stay "prayed up" all the time.'
"We didn't need to use that room," Ross added. "That was a great lesson for me to learn as a young man."
Trust the power given
Because Billy realized the power didn't come from him but came through him, he didn't feel obligated to overreach with his methods.
Jack Hayford, himself a powerful preacher, observed, "Billy Graham reveals a remarkable absence of the superficial, of hype, or of pandering to the crowd. His communication consistently avoids exaggeration or 'slick' remarks. There's never been anything cutesy or clever about his style. There are no grandiose claims or stunts employed to attract attention. Graham merely bows in prayer while seekers come forward—moved by God, not a manipulative appeal."
That confidence in the power of the message frees the leader from having to work over-hard on presentation techniques to convince the hearers. When a basketball player is not in a position to take a shot but puts it up anyway, coaches call it "forcing the shot."
Forced shots are usually ineffective. Coaches will tell players to wait until they're in a good position, then the shot has a better chance of success. Likewise, people can sense that efforts are forced when a leader isn't convinced his message has spiritual power.
Because Billy was well connected to his continuous voltage, he knew where the power came from. He simply made himself available to receive it.
Harold Myra is CEO of Christianity Today International.
Marshall Shelley is editor of Leadership and a vice president of Christianity Today International.
Next year marks the 50th anniversary of the founding of Leadership's sister publication Christianity Today, which was envisioned and launched by Billy Graham. In preparing for that event, Christianity Today International CEO Harold Myra and Leadership editor Marshall Shelley felt the story of Billy's leadership had not adequately been told. Their book The Leadership Secrets of Billy Graham (Zondervan, 2005) explores the public and the private sides of Billy's influence and identifies the transferable principles behind his leadership that can benefit church, business, and other kinds of leaders.
This article is adapted from the book.
Copyright © 2005 by the author or Christianity Today International/Leadership Journal.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Are you where He wants you?
(from the KLOVE devotional publication: "On the Right Note")
A Mist or an Outpouring?
"The Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to till the ground." - Genesis 2:5
At the beginning of creation God caused a mist to come up from the earth and water the ground. Up until that time there had been no downpour from the heavens. Why? Because "there was not a man to till the ground." There's a lesson here: there are some things God has planned to do, made provision for doing and desires to do - that He will not do until we get into the place where we can receive what He longs to give.
The blessing is there, safe in God's keeping. The need is there, persistent in its pain and suffering. But the blessing won't be applied until our hearts are in a position for God to act. Oh, you may be experiencing a "mist," in your spirit, but you konw God has something more for you! You have an uneasiness, a frustration that causes you to say, "Why am I no further along?" Rather than blaming the people in your life or the circumstances around you, you need to pause, look up and ask: "Lord, are You waiting for me to get into the right place?" When you ask that question be prepared to hear His answer and obey it, even if it means rearranging your priorities, leaving your comfort zone, breaking old habit patterns, and paying the price to have what God wants you to have. What does He want you to have? Not a mist, but an outpouring of His blessing!
Pleasing the Father
"This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." - Matthew 3:17
When Jesus stepped into the River Jordan to be baptized byJohn, He was stepping into the fullness of God's purpose for His life. Ever stopped to think that when Jesus walked into those waters they were teeming with the sins of mankind? John had baptized multitudes there, their sins figuratively passing from them inot the sea of God's forgetfulness just as the waters of the Jordan end up in the Dead Sea.
Now you might think: "How awful! Jesus is wading into sin." But Jesus was doing so to fulfill the purpose of God - redemption for you and me. Jesus was exactly where God wanted Him to be, doing precisely what God wanted Him to do. That's why heaven announced, "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased."
Don't expect God to speak up for you or cause others to see you for who you really are, until you're willing to step into the place He's clled you to. And that may mean stepping into some muddy waters! But when you do you won't have to speak up for yourself, fight for yourself or demand anything of others. God will command whatever forces are involved to yield to you, give to you, honor you, listen to you and obey you. You won't have to grope for the right answer or wonder if something's right or wrong for you. God will giveyou the ability and resources you need. Why? Because you're where He wants you to be, doing what He wants you to do!
My own comments: Have you been getting a taste of what God might have in store for you? Has God been lighting a spark in your life that is just waiting to be a flame - waiting on you to be where God wants you? Is there something that you've been resisting in your life because of the fear of change, or of not wanting to be uncomforable?
Don't let that fear quench the fire. Where does God want you? Just ask Him, He will show you.
A Mist or an Outpouring?
"The Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to till the ground." - Genesis 2:5
At the beginning of creation God caused a mist to come up from the earth and water the ground. Up until that time there had been no downpour from the heavens. Why? Because "there was not a man to till the ground." There's a lesson here: there are some things God has planned to do, made provision for doing and desires to do - that He will not do until we get into the place where we can receive what He longs to give.
The blessing is there, safe in God's keeping. The need is there, persistent in its pain and suffering. But the blessing won't be applied until our hearts are in a position for God to act. Oh, you may be experiencing a "mist," in your spirit, but you konw God has something more for you! You have an uneasiness, a frustration that causes you to say, "Why am I no further along?" Rather than blaming the people in your life or the circumstances around you, you need to pause, look up and ask: "Lord, are You waiting for me to get into the right place?" When you ask that question be prepared to hear His answer and obey it, even if it means rearranging your priorities, leaving your comfort zone, breaking old habit patterns, and paying the price to have what God wants you to have. What does He want you to have? Not a mist, but an outpouring of His blessing!
Pleasing the Father
"This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." - Matthew 3:17
When Jesus stepped into the River Jordan to be baptized byJohn, He was stepping into the fullness of God's purpose for His life. Ever stopped to think that when Jesus walked into those waters they were teeming with the sins of mankind? John had baptized multitudes there, their sins figuratively passing from them inot the sea of God's forgetfulness just as the waters of the Jordan end up in the Dead Sea.
Now you might think: "How awful! Jesus is wading into sin." But Jesus was doing so to fulfill the purpose of God - redemption for you and me. Jesus was exactly where God wanted Him to be, doing precisely what God wanted Him to do. That's why heaven announced, "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased."
Don't expect God to speak up for you or cause others to see you for who you really are, until you're willing to step into the place He's clled you to. And that may mean stepping into some muddy waters! But when you do you won't have to speak up for yourself, fight for yourself or demand anything of others. God will command whatever forces are involved to yield to you, give to you, honor you, listen to you and obey you. You won't have to grope for the right answer or wonder if something's right or wrong for you. God will giveyou the ability and resources you need. Why? Because you're where He wants you to be, doing what He wants you to do!
My own comments: Have you been getting a taste of what God might have in store for you? Has God been lighting a spark in your life that is just waiting to be a flame - waiting on you to be where God wants you? Is there something that you've been resisting in your life because of the fear of change, or of not wanting to be uncomforable?
Don't let that fear quench the fire. Where does God want you? Just ask Him, He will show you.
Friday, January 13, 2006
As a father, are you really there?
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2006/001/26.48.html
The Power of a Father's Blessing
What former NFL pro Bill Glass has learned after 36 years of prison ministry.
Interview by Nancy Madsen posted 09/12/2006 09:00 a.m.
In his day, Bill Glass was one of the most outstanding football players in the National Football League, playing on the 1964 champion Cleveland Browns and making the NFL Pro Bowl four times. In 1969, long before prison ministry became popular among evangelicals, Glass founded what is now called Champions for Life. The ministry invites professional athletes to speak to prisoners, following up with trained volunteers who commit themselves to building lasting relationships with juvenile inmates. After three-and-a-half decades of ministry, Glass, with Terry Pluto, has written Champions for Life: The Healing Power of a Father's Blessing (Faith Communications, 2005) to address an issue that is sorely affecting the fabric of the nation.
What is our country's biggest problem?
A lack of the father's blessing. The FBI studied the 17 kids that have shot their classmates in little towns like Paducah, Kentucky; Pearl, Mississippi; and Littleton, Colorado. All 17 shooters had only one thing in common. They had a father problem. I see it so much; it's just unbelievable. There's something about it when a man doesn't get along with his father. It makes him mean; it makes him dangerous; it makes him angry.
On the day before Father's Day, I was in North Carolina in a juvenile prison. I ate lunch with three boys. I asked the first boy, "Is your dad coming to see you tomorrow on Father's Day?"
He said, "No, he's not coming."
"Why not?"
"He's in prison."
I asked the second boy the same question and got the same answer.
I asked the third one why his dad wasn't coming, and he said, "He got out of prison about nine months ago, and he's doing good, and I'm proud of my father. He's really going to be a good dad to me, and he's going to go straight."
I could tell he was protesting so strongly because something was still wrong. So I said, "How many times has he been here to see you since he got out nine months ago?"
He said, "He hasn't made it yet."
"Why not?"
"Well, he lives way, way away."
"Where does he live?"
"He lives in Durham."
Durham was only two hours away. I had come 1,500 miles to visit the boy. His dad couldn't come two hours? There are a lot of fathers who are really deserters. When I'm in prison, I always challenge the inmates to bless their kids. If you want to keep your kids out of prison, bless them.
What was your relationship with your father like?
My earliest recollections are that my father would sit on my bedside and rub my back and tell me what a fine boy I was, and almost every night, he would kiss me on the mouth. He was a pro baseball player, a very manly man. But he had no problem expressing his love and blessing to me and to my brother and sister.
My dad died when I was only 14 years old, and he had been sick for about two years before he died. I had a huge hole in my heart. I felt despairing. My mother was very loving and warm, but it just wasn't the same as when my dad was there.
My coach was told that I had lost my father and that it really hit me hard. So every day after workout, he'd stay out with me, and he'd teach me how to play football. He would walk with me after workout to the dressing room with his arm around me. He'd ask me to sit beside him on the bus going out to the game, and he'd just talk to me. Then at noon he'd meet with me, and we'd lift weights for about an hour. I moved from being the slowest, smallest player on the team to, within a year, being unblockable, because I learned good fundamentals. And I didn't even like football then. The only reason I played was because I wanted my father's blessing.
A kid who is searching desperately for a blessing will put himself in all sorts of contortions in order to get it. You see this in gangs. Kids get into gangs because they want to be accepted by a family. Most kids that get into gangs have no father relationship. So, as a result, they go into the gang, because the gang promises them that they're going to be part of a family. "I've got your back, and I'm going to watch you all the way, and I'm with you no matter what." They have these little teardrop tattoos. Have you seen them on a kid's face? Those little tattooed teardrops stand for some heinous crime they committed in order to get into the gang—the initiation fee. If I have to kill someone to get into the gang, I'll do it, because I need to feel that I'm part of a family. And only a father can make a child feel that way. A mother, by herself, has a hard time ever doing that. All those guys on death row love their mothers. It's their fathers they've got the problem with.
Describe this concept of the father's blessing.
You see it in Genesis 27:30–38, where Isaac is blessing his son, and Jacob steals Esau's blessing and his birthright. Four times in those eight verses, Esau begs for his father's blessing, but it's never forthcoming. The Scripture says Esau always hated Jacob for that. The emphasis is more on the blessing than it is on the birthright.
The blessing always involves a hug and a kiss. Not the kiss of abuse, but the kiss of blessing—there's a vast difference. You can't force yourself on your child, but you can hug them and get close to them physically to a certain degree without embarrassing them or turning them off.
I found my kids love to be hugged and kissed. I grab my little girl by her ears and look into her eyes and say, "I love you, I bless you, I think you're absolutely terrific." That's easy with her because she's little and dainty. But I've got two boys, 280 and 290 pounds. One played pro ball, and both played college ball. They're 6'6", bench press 500 pounds, and are bigger than I am, but I grabbed that eldest son of mine recently and said, "I love, I bless you, I think you're terrific, and I'm so glad you're mine." His shoulders began to shake and his eyes filled with tears and he said, "Dad, I really needed that."
It's got to be said out loud. It's got to be stated. It's not like the lawyer that's getting a divorce and the judge says, "How often did you tell your wife you loved her?" and he replies, "I told her the day I married her and then never told her differently."
The blessing is also unconditional and continuous. If it's conditional, it's not love; it's a negotiation. I was in a prison in Texas recently where they've got 300 boys ages 10 to 15. These boys have committed every crime you can imagine. I asked the warden, "How many of these boys got a visit from their father in the past year?"
He said, "One, and he only stayed 15 minutes, got into a fight with his son, and stomped out mad." They're not fathers, because fathers hang with their kids no matter what. I know a lot of fathers that disown their kids because they go to prison. But it's got to be something that is continuous and unconditional in order to be a real blessing, in order to be real love.
What do you tell people who have had bad relationships with their fathers?
I think that the dangerous thing about this whole concept [of a father's blessing] is that I could imply to some poor kid that he's a criminal because he didn't get his dad's blessing. But the answer is to say to him that he needs to find a substitute father.
Fred Smith is now my substitute father. He's 90 years old and a man of great wisdom, a man of deep spiritual beliefs. I don't make any major decisions until I check with him. In fact, I've been taking him to Dallas every other day for the last two years—picking him up out of his wheelchair and putting him into a dialysis chair. He's just amazing. He can hardly walk, but you'd better be on your toes if you're talking to him. He's as sharp as a tack.
One reason I think our prison ministry is so effective is that our counselors are like substitute fathers for the kids. They have to meet once a week for 2 hours for 12 weeks. We've had unusual success with that. We only have about 10 percent who get back into trouble, instead of the normal 80 percent. It incorporates everything I'm talking about—the blessing, conversion, mentoring, father/mother substituting, and, to me, it is really the answer for the kid in prison.
Nancy Madsen is a senior at Wheaton College, Illinois.
Copyright © 2006 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.January 2006, Vol. 50, No. 1, Page 48
The Power of a Father's Blessing
What former NFL pro Bill Glass has learned after 36 years of prison ministry.
Interview by Nancy Madsen posted 09/12/2006 09:00 a.m.
In his day, Bill Glass was one of the most outstanding football players in the National Football League, playing on the 1964 champion Cleveland Browns and making the NFL Pro Bowl four times. In 1969, long before prison ministry became popular among evangelicals, Glass founded what is now called Champions for Life. The ministry invites professional athletes to speak to prisoners, following up with trained volunteers who commit themselves to building lasting relationships with juvenile inmates. After three-and-a-half decades of ministry, Glass, with Terry Pluto, has written Champions for Life: The Healing Power of a Father's Blessing (Faith Communications, 2005) to address an issue that is sorely affecting the fabric of the nation.
What is our country's biggest problem?
A lack of the father's blessing. The FBI studied the 17 kids that have shot their classmates in little towns like Paducah, Kentucky; Pearl, Mississippi; and Littleton, Colorado. All 17 shooters had only one thing in common. They had a father problem. I see it so much; it's just unbelievable. There's something about it when a man doesn't get along with his father. It makes him mean; it makes him dangerous; it makes him angry.
On the day before Father's Day, I was in North Carolina in a juvenile prison. I ate lunch with three boys. I asked the first boy, "Is your dad coming to see you tomorrow on Father's Day?"
He said, "No, he's not coming."
"Why not?"
"He's in prison."
I asked the second boy the same question and got the same answer.
I asked the third one why his dad wasn't coming, and he said, "He got out of prison about nine months ago, and he's doing good, and I'm proud of my father. He's really going to be a good dad to me, and he's going to go straight."
I could tell he was protesting so strongly because something was still wrong. So I said, "How many times has he been here to see you since he got out nine months ago?"
He said, "He hasn't made it yet."
"Why not?"
"Well, he lives way, way away."
"Where does he live?"
"He lives in Durham."
Durham was only two hours away. I had come 1,500 miles to visit the boy. His dad couldn't come two hours? There are a lot of fathers who are really deserters. When I'm in prison, I always challenge the inmates to bless their kids. If you want to keep your kids out of prison, bless them.
What was your relationship with your father like?
My earliest recollections are that my father would sit on my bedside and rub my back and tell me what a fine boy I was, and almost every night, he would kiss me on the mouth. He was a pro baseball player, a very manly man. But he had no problem expressing his love and blessing to me and to my brother and sister.
My dad died when I was only 14 years old, and he had been sick for about two years before he died. I had a huge hole in my heart. I felt despairing. My mother was very loving and warm, but it just wasn't the same as when my dad was there.
My coach was told that I had lost my father and that it really hit me hard. So every day after workout, he'd stay out with me, and he'd teach me how to play football. He would walk with me after workout to the dressing room with his arm around me. He'd ask me to sit beside him on the bus going out to the game, and he'd just talk to me. Then at noon he'd meet with me, and we'd lift weights for about an hour. I moved from being the slowest, smallest player on the team to, within a year, being unblockable, because I learned good fundamentals. And I didn't even like football then. The only reason I played was because I wanted my father's blessing.
A kid who is searching desperately for a blessing will put himself in all sorts of contortions in order to get it. You see this in gangs. Kids get into gangs because they want to be accepted by a family. Most kids that get into gangs have no father relationship. So, as a result, they go into the gang, because the gang promises them that they're going to be part of a family. "I've got your back, and I'm going to watch you all the way, and I'm with you no matter what." They have these little teardrop tattoos. Have you seen them on a kid's face? Those little tattooed teardrops stand for some heinous crime they committed in order to get into the gang—the initiation fee. If I have to kill someone to get into the gang, I'll do it, because I need to feel that I'm part of a family. And only a father can make a child feel that way. A mother, by herself, has a hard time ever doing that. All those guys on death row love their mothers. It's their fathers they've got the problem with.
Describe this concept of the father's blessing.
You see it in Genesis 27:30–38, where Isaac is blessing his son, and Jacob steals Esau's blessing and his birthright. Four times in those eight verses, Esau begs for his father's blessing, but it's never forthcoming. The Scripture says Esau always hated Jacob for that. The emphasis is more on the blessing than it is on the birthright.
The blessing always involves a hug and a kiss. Not the kiss of abuse, but the kiss of blessing—there's a vast difference. You can't force yourself on your child, but you can hug them and get close to them physically to a certain degree without embarrassing them or turning them off.
I found my kids love to be hugged and kissed. I grab my little girl by her ears and look into her eyes and say, "I love you, I bless you, I think you're absolutely terrific." That's easy with her because she's little and dainty. But I've got two boys, 280 and 290 pounds. One played pro ball, and both played college ball. They're 6'6", bench press 500 pounds, and are bigger than I am, but I grabbed that eldest son of mine recently and said, "I love, I bless you, I think you're terrific, and I'm so glad you're mine." His shoulders began to shake and his eyes filled with tears and he said, "Dad, I really needed that."
It's got to be said out loud. It's got to be stated. It's not like the lawyer that's getting a divorce and the judge says, "How often did you tell your wife you loved her?" and he replies, "I told her the day I married her and then never told her differently."
The blessing is also unconditional and continuous. If it's conditional, it's not love; it's a negotiation. I was in a prison in Texas recently where they've got 300 boys ages 10 to 15. These boys have committed every crime you can imagine. I asked the warden, "How many of these boys got a visit from their father in the past year?"
He said, "One, and he only stayed 15 minutes, got into a fight with his son, and stomped out mad." They're not fathers, because fathers hang with their kids no matter what. I know a lot of fathers that disown their kids because they go to prison. But it's got to be something that is continuous and unconditional in order to be a real blessing, in order to be real love.
What do you tell people who have had bad relationships with their fathers?
I think that the dangerous thing about this whole concept [of a father's blessing] is that I could imply to some poor kid that he's a criminal because he didn't get his dad's blessing. But the answer is to say to him that he needs to find a substitute father.
Fred Smith is now my substitute father. He's 90 years old and a man of great wisdom, a man of deep spiritual beliefs. I don't make any major decisions until I check with him. In fact, I've been taking him to Dallas every other day for the last two years—picking him up out of his wheelchair and putting him into a dialysis chair. He's just amazing. He can hardly walk, but you'd better be on your toes if you're talking to him. He's as sharp as a tack.
One reason I think our prison ministry is so effective is that our counselors are like substitute fathers for the kids. They have to meet once a week for 2 hours for 12 weeks. We've had unusual success with that. We only have about 10 percent who get back into trouble, instead of the normal 80 percent. It incorporates everything I'm talking about—the blessing, conversion, mentoring, father/mother substituting, and, to me, it is really the answer for the kid in prison.
Nancy Madsen is a senior at Wheaton College, Illinois.
Copyright © 2006 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.January 2006, Vol. 50, No. 1, Page 48
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Do you Abide or Abound?
After you read the following article, ask yourself where you are at in the continuum of abiding and abounding.
http://ctlibrary.com/le/2000/spring/2.28.html
To Abide Or To Abound?
April 1, 2000
My daughter Mallory loves Greek mythology. I once bet her that she did not know the twelve tasks of Hercules off the top of her head. I lost.
One of her favorite parts of The Iliad is when Odysseus navigates a narrow passage with a lethal rock on one side and a fatal whirlpool on the other. Steering between Scylla and Charybdis has been part of our vocabulary ever since.
In pastoral ministry I have my own Scylla and Charybdis to navigate, but their names are "Abound" and "Abide." Neither appears lethal. In fact, both are life-giving parts of my calling. But trying to experience both feels like a Homeric task.
Seize the day, and cease your workI want to abound, to devote myself to God's work: "Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, be steadfast and immovable; always abounding fully in the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain" (1 Cor. 15:58).
I want to discover the deepest passions that God hard-wired into me. I want to develop whatever gifts I have to their fullest.
I want some fire in my belly. I want to experience such a level of motivation that sometimes when I think about the work of the Lord it keeps me awake at night.
I want to abound.
When Paul said: "I am being poured out like a drink offering," That's not a picture of casual, comfortable labor offered when my personal world makes it easy. Abounding is what Jesus asked us to do. Taking up a cross is not an easy thing. He is Lord of the cross.
But on the other side of my life is Jesus' statement in John 15:4: "Abide in me, and I will abide in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must abide. Neither can you bear fruit by yourself. You must abide."
Abide, Jesus says. This, too, is an important New Testament word: to remain, to dwell. In our day we would talk about this as having deep roots, or being centered.
I feel the power of this call as well, the call to be a man of deep prayer, to refuse to hydroplane over my emotional life but rather to experience joy and sorrow deeply. To live the way Jesus would live if he were in my place.
"Come to me, all you who labor, and are heavy laden," he says, "And I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matt. 11:28-30).
Gentle. That's how Jesus describes himself. The Lord of the cross is also the Lord of the easy yoke, the light burden.A holy tension
Do you feel the tension between abounding and abiding? I live with it every day. It's unending. Will it ever go away?
Jesus lived with it throughout his ministry. In Mark 1 Jesus withdrew into the desert to abide with his Father, then plunged into the city to abound in his work, then withdrew while it was still dark to abide, only to be accosted by Peter who's upset that Jesus didn't leave a pager number ("everyone is searching for you"). Jesus doesn't say: "Don't bother me—I'm abiding." He goes off to abound some more.
Some people resolve this tension by just abiding, not seriously troubled by a lack of effectiveness. Garrison Keillor wrote about a patronizing do-gooder who lived by the "If I can just help one fainting soul for a moment my work was not in vain" philosophy—a strategy, he noted, that makes it rather difficult to fail.
It is possible for a church to go 20, 30 years or more without producing fruit. People are not challenged, volunteers not trained, resources not well-stewarded—and no one complains. People just get used to not abounding.
I don't want to live like that.
On the other hand, some people run around in frenzied activity. They live in a chronic state of exhaustion and burnout. They may pile up impressive accomplishments, but their spiritual life is dry. They use people; they live with preoccupied souls. There is no depth, no mystery.
I don't want to live like that, either. I expect to wrestle with this tension till I die.
God didn't get his work done all at once. Why not?
It wouldn't have been hard for him.
What will make this work?
If I'm going to both abide and abound, I need to practice certain principles.
1. Focus on what matters most. Each morning I make a W.A.M.M. (What Activities Matter Most?) list. I need crystal clarity on what's important and what's peripheral.
Peter Drucker writes that recognizing what counts as a true contribution is the great challenge for people in work like ours. If I don't do this, it's embarrassing to me how much time I can waste.
Sloth, Frederich Buechner said, isn't necessarily incompatible with heavy activity. It's failing to do what needs to be done when it needs to be done. Like the kamikaze pilot who flew 17 missions.
2. I need to be fully present. Jean Pierre de Caussade described the "Sacrament of the Present Moment." It means being fully present to God's call right now.
It means devoting myself fully to the task—writing or counseling or leading or speaking—with my whole being. It means when I come home I must learn the difficult art of leaving work behind, being fully present with my family.
Our family is in the stage where Nancy and I spend a fair amount of time as chauffeurs (roughly 100 hours a week). I used to complain about this. Then a friend told me how this could be great family time—the kids can't get away! If I'm fully present, these are wonderful opportunities for conversation.
I have learned that certain forces keep me from experiencing "the sacrament": ingratitude, irritability, tension, a chronic sense that there's never enough time.
It's not just that we wrestle with these forces; it's that we glorify them. Busyness, fatigue, over-scheduling become signs of being important. Dorothy Bass noted that the fourth commandment is the only one that people, even people in ministry, commonly boast about breaking.
3. I need rhythm. One striking aspect of the Creation narrative is that God didn't get all his work done at once. Why not? It wouldn't have been hard for him.
God was establishing a pattern, a rhythm, for people made in his image.
God worked. And when he was done, God rested. He called it a day. He celebrated what he had done. He never burned out. He never said, "Thank me it's Friday."
I need to make sure I have a rhythm that includes solitude. I remember when I first decided to try it. I waited for a free day to come along. Guess how long I waited? You have to schedule solitude, write it in the calendar, and protect it fiercely. Sometimes mine are brief periods of solitude: an hour at a nearby forest preserve. Sometimes they're longer—a half-day or a day. But my days for solitude never volunteer. They have to be drafted.
4. I need a plan for my leisure. Some time ago I noticed a pattern: my days off would come up, and I had no idea what I wanted to do with them. I have friends who sometimes have whole vacations available but don't give any thought to what will be life-giving and joy-producing. No wonder we wrestle with fatigue!
So I ask myself these days, "What activities will I both genuinely enjoy and will also give me a chance to be with my family?" Recently my 11-year-old son and I took up snowboarding. One of us is much better at it than the other (the other one is bruised enough from it that he is writing this article standing up), but it's been great to find an activity that allows us to bond over something we both enjoy.
5. I need to focus on abounding where God has gifted and placed me. Parker Palmer writes about being offered the presidency of a large educational institution. Because it was a step up the ladder for a teacher and writer, he was ready to say yes. As a Quaker he first called some friends for a "clearness committee" to help him discern if it was God's call.
Their first questions were easy to answer. Then someone asked: "What would you enjoy most about being president?"
"Well, I wouldn't like to quit teaching,'' Palmer said. "I wouldn't like the politics involved … I wouldn't like fund-raising."
"But what would you like?"
After a long pause, he said quietly, "I would like to have my picture in the paper with the word 'president' under it."
Parker, couldn't you find an easier way to get your picture in the paper?
To abide and abound I have to be very clear about the gifts and passions God has given me. And so often ego gets in the way.
It's one thing to embrace my gifts. It's another to embrace my limitations. But to take an unblinking look at my limitations is one of the greatest tests of character I know.
My guess is that all of us have at least one limitation that is especially painful to acknowledge. I know I do.
And every time I try to pursue a task as if I didn't have this limitation, I cease to abide and abound. Palmer notes that burnout isn't usually the result of trying to give too much. It's the result of trying to give what isn't really in me.
Performance review by God
At our church we've recently instituted a performance review process to help each other be as effective as possible. It can be a pretty sobering. But I remember that a performance review is coming one day that will make all my reviews on this side of life look pretty casual.
Here's what I'd love to hear God say when that day comes: "You abounded in my work. You took real risks, you dreamed honorable dreams, you rolled up your sleeves and sacrificed comfort and poured yourself out like a drink offering.
"And … you abided in my love. You sought to be transformed by my Spirit, to live in intimacy with me and authentic community with the people I love.
"You abounded and you abided."
Who doesn't want that?
John Ortberg is a senior pastor at Menlo Park Presbyterian Church in Menlo Park, California, and previously served as teaching pastor at Willow Creek Community Church
Copyright © 2000 by John Ortberg or Christianity Today International/Leadership Journal.
http://ctlibrary.com/le/2000/spring/2.28.html
To Abide Or To Abound?
April 1, 2000
My daughter Mallory loves Greek mythology. I once bet her that she did not know the twelve tasks of Hercules off the top of her head. I lost.
One of her favorite parts of The Iliad is when Odysseus navigates a narrow passage with a lethal rock on one side and a fatal whirlpool on the other. Steering between Scylla and Charybdis has been part of our vocabulary ever since.
In pastoral ministry I have my own Scylla and Charybdis to navigate, but their names are "Abound" and "Abide." Neither appears lethal. In fact, both are life-giving parts of my calling. But trying to experience both feels like a Homeric task.
Seize the day, and cease your workI want to abound, to devote myself to God's work: "Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, be steadfast and immovable; always abounding fully in the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain" (1 Cor. 15:58).
I want to discover the deepest passions that God hard-wired into me. I want to develop whatever gifts I have to their fullest.
I want some fire in my belly. I want to experience such a level of motivation that sometimes when I think about the work of the Lord it keeps me awake at night.
I want to abound.
When Paul said: "I am being poured out like a drink offering," That's not a picture of casual, comfortable labor offered when my personal world makes it easy. Abounding is what Jesus asked us to do. Taking up a cross is not an easy thing. He is Lord of the cross.
But on the other side of my life is Jesus' statement in John 15:4: "Abide in me, and I will abide in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must abide. Neither can you bear fruit by yourself. You must abide."
Abide, Jesus says. This, too, is an important New Testament word: to remain, to dwell. In our day we would talk about this as having deep roots, or being centered.
I feel the power of this call as well, the call to be a man of deep prayer, to refuse to hydroplane over my emotional life but rather to experience joy and sorrow deeply. To live the way Jesus would live if he were in my place.
"Come to me, all you who labor, and are heavy laden," he says, "And I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matt. 11:28-30).
Gentle. That's how Jesus describes himself. The Lord of the cross is also the Lord of the easy yoke, the light burden.A holy tension
Do you feel the tension between abounding and abiding? I live with it every day. It's unending. Will it ever go away?
Jesus lived with it throughout his ministry. In Mark 1 Jesus withdrew into the desert to abide with his Father, then plunged into the city to abound in his work, then withdrew while it was still dark to abide, only to be accosted by Peter who's upset that Jesus didn't leave a pager number ("everyone is searching for you"). Jesus doesn't say: "Don't bother me—I'm abiding." He goes off to abound some more.
Some people resolve this tension by just abiding, not seriously troubled by a lack of effectiveness. Garrison Keillor wrote about a patronizing do-gooder who lived by the "If I can just help one fainting soul for a moment my work was not in vain" philosophy—a strategy, he noted, that makes it rather difficult to fail.
It is possible for a church to go 20, 30 years or more without producing fruit. People are not challenged, volunteers not trained, resources not well-stewarded—and no one complains. People just get used to not abounding.
I don't want to live like that.
On the other hand, some people run around in frenzied activity. They live in a chronic state of exhaustion and burnout. They may pile up impressive accomplishments, but their spiritual life is dry. They use people; they live with preoccupied souls. There is no depth, no mystery.
I don't want to live like that, either. I expect to wrestle with this tension till I die.
God didn't get his work done all at once. Why not?
It wouldn't have been hard for him.
What will make this work?
If I'm going to both abide and abound, I need to practice certain principles.
1. Focus on what matters most. Each morning I make a W.A.M.M. (What Activities Matter Most?) list. I need crystal clarity on what's important and what's peripheral.
Peter Drucker writes that recognizing what counts as a true contribution is the great challenge for people in work like ours. If I don't do this, it's embarrassing to me how much time I can waste.
Sloth, Frederich Buechner said, isn't necessarily incompatible with heavy activity. It's failing to do what needs to be done when it needs to be done. Like the kamikaze pilot who flew 17 missions.
2. I need to be fully present. Jean Pierre de Caussade described the "Sacrament of the Present Moment." It means being fully present to God's call right now.
It means devoting myself fully to the task—writing or counseling or leading or speaking—with my whole being. It means when I come home I must learn the difficult art of leaving work behind, being fully present with my family.
Our family is in the stage where Nancy and I spend a fair amount of time as chauffeurs (roughly 100 hours a week). I used to complain about this. Then a friend told me how this could be great family time—the kids can't get away! If I'm fully present, these are wonderful opportunities for conversation.
I have learned that certain forces keep me from experiencing "the sacrament": ingratitude, irritability, tension, a chronic sense that there's never enough time.
It's not just that we wrestle with these forces; it's that we glorify them. Busyness, fatigue, over-scheduling become signs of being important. Dorothy Bass noted that the fourth commandment is the only one that people, even people in ministry, commonly boast about breaking.
3. I need rhythm. One striking aspect of the Creation narrative is that God didn't get all his work done at once. Why not? It wouldn't have been hard for him.
God was establishing a pattern, a rhythm, for people made in his image.
God worked. And when he was done, God rested. He called it a day. He celebrated what he had done. He never burned out. He never said, "Thank me it's Friday."
I need to make sure I have a rhythm that includes solitude. I remember when I first decided to try it. I waited for a free day to come along. Guess how long I waited? You have to schedule solitude, write it in the calendar, and protect it fiercely. Sometimes mine are brief periods of solitude: an hour at a nearby forest preserve. Sometimes they're longer—a half-day or a day. But my days for solitude never volunteer. They have to be drafted.
4. I need a plan for my leisure. Some time ago I noticed a pattern: my days off would come up, and I had no idea what I wanted to do with them. I have friends who sometimes have whole vacations available but don't give any thought to what will be life-giving and joy-producing. No wonder we wrestle with fatigue!
So I ask myself these days, "What activities will I both genuinely enjoy and will also give me a chance to be with my family?" Recently my 11-year-old son and I took up snowboarding. One of us is much better at it than the other (the other one is bruised enough from it that he is writing this article standing up), but it's been great to find an activity that allows us to bond over something we both enjoy.
5. I need to focus on abounding where God has gifted and placed me. Parker Palmer writes about being offered the presidency of a large educational institution. Because it was a step up the ladder for a teacher and writer, he was ready to say yes. As a Quaker he first called some friends for a "clearness committee" to help him discern if it was God's call.
Their first questions were easy to answer. Then someone asked: "What would you enjoy most about being president?"
"Well, I wouldn't like to quit teaching,'' Palmer said. "I wouldn't like the politics involved … I wouldn't like fund-raising."
"But what would you like?"
After a long pause, he said quietly, "I would like to have my picture in the paper with the word 'president' under it."
Parker, couldn't you find an easier way to get your picture in the paper?
To abide and abound I have to be very clear about the gifts and passions God has given me. And so often ego gets in the way.
It's one thing to embrace my gifts. It's another to embrace my limitations. But to take an unblinking look at my limitations is one of the greatest tests of character I know.
My guess is that all of us have at least one limitation that is especially painful to acknowledge. I know I do.
And every time I try to pursue a task as if I didn't have this limitation, I cease to abide and abound. Palmer notes that burnout isn't usually the result of trying to give too much. It's the result of trying to give what isn't really in me.
Performance review by God
At our church we've recently instituted a performance review process to help each other be as effective as possible. It can be a pretty sobering. But I remember that a performance review is coming one day that will make all my reviews on this side of life look pretty casual.
Here's what I'd love to hear God say when that day comes: "You abounded in my work. You took real risks, you dreamed honorable dreams, you rolled up your sleeves and sacrificed comfort and poured yourself out like a drink offering.
"And … you abided in my love. You sought to be transformed by my Spirit, to live in intimacy with me and authentic community with the people I love.
"You abounded and you abided."
Who doesn't want that?
John Ortberg is a senior pastor at Menlo Park Presbyterian Church in Menlo Park, California, and previously served as teaching pastor at Willow Creek Community Church
Copyright © 2000 by John Ortberg or Christianity Today International/Leadership Journal.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
The Storage Room Meltdown
http://www.christianitytoday.com/le/2005/004/2.122.html
It was time to preach, but I had nothing to say.
by Rob Bell
I could feel my car keys in my pocket, and all I could think about was how far away I could be by 11 a.m. How much gas was in the tank? How fast could I drive?
Sitting on a chair in a storage room, I could hear the worship space filling up with people, and all I wanted to do was leave. What do you do when you're pastor of a church, it's Sunday morning, people are finding their seats, you're scheduled to preach, and you realize you have nothing to say?
How did it come to this? It started out so great …
One minute you have these ideas about how it could be, and the next minute you're leading this exploding church/event/monster.
My wife and I and several others started this church called Mars Hill in February 1999 with dreams of a revolutionary new kind of community. I was 28.
People who are starting churches, or want to someday, often ask me when I knew it was time to do it. And I actually have a coherent answer: I knew it was time when I no longer cared if it was "successful." I'm serious. I had this moment in October 1998 when I realized that if 13 people joined us, and that's all it ever was, that would be okay. This thing inside of me was so strong that I had to act on it. I felt if I didn't, I would be violating something … or somebody.
Better to try and fail … the worst thing would be to live wondering, What if?
The dream actually began years before when Kristen and I were living in Los Angeles. We visited a church called Christian Assembly, and what I saw changed everything for me. This community was exploding with creativity and life—it was like people woke up on Sunday morning and asked themselves, "What would I like to do today more than anything else? How about going to a church service?"
No amount of success can heal a person's soul. In fact, success makes it worse, because "Wherever you, there you are."
This concept was so fresh—people who gathered because they wanted to. There wasn't a trace of empty ritual or obligation anywhere in the place. It didn't matter how far away I had to park. The bond I had with the other people in the room. Not "I have to" but "I get to." Not obligation but celebration. Not duty but desire.
Kristen and I starting attending these services regularly, and then we'd go to Taco Bell and talk about what a church could be.
Desire.
Longing.
Come as you are.
Connection.
A group of people who can imagine nothing better than this.
And so several years, two internships, and a cross-country move later, we did it. We started a church in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Now you have to understand that I started out playing in bands, back when alternative music was … alternative. I understood music to be this raw art form that comes from your guts. Do it yourself. Strip it down. Take away all the fluff and the hype.
This ethos heavily shaped my understanding of what a church should be like: strip everything away and get down to the most basic elements. A group of people desperate to experience God.
Please realize that to this day I have never read a book on church planting or church growth. I remember being told that a sign had been rented with the church name on it to go in front of the building where we were meeting. I was mortified and had them get rid of it. You can't put a sign out front, I argued; people have to want to find us. And so there were no advertisements, no promotions, and no signs.
The thought of the word church and the word marketing in the same sentence makes me sick.
We had these ideas and these dreams, and we went with them.
People would come in, there would be some singing, I would talk about God and Jesus and the Bible and life for about an hour, and then it would be over.
And the strangest thing happened: people came.
I remember that first Sunday like it was yesterday. Someone told me five minutes before the first service to look out the front windows. I was not prepared for what I saw. Cars everywhere. People were giving up trying to get through the traffic and just pulling over on the side of the road, parking, and walking the rest of the way. We ran out of chairs.
Chaos.
I loved it.
Unleashing a monster Now I am going to give you some numbers. I hesitate to do this because few things are more difficult to take than spiritual leaders who are always talking about how big their thing is. But it happened and it's true and it's part of my story.
There were over 1,000 people there the first Sunday. People in the aisles. People on the floor. I ended the message by inviting people to join us on this journey. I talked about the need to explore what a new kind of Christian faith looks like for the new world we find ourselves in. Whatever it was and wherever it led, we were going. "Join us."
The energy in the place was unreal.
The next morning I held a staff meeting. Which means I sat in my office and thought to myself, What have I gotten myself into? Followed closely by, Sunday's coming again.
More people came the next week.
Even more the following week.
I remember telling people we had no more chairs and if they wanted to bring their friends, they would need to buy chairs for them.
By September of that first year, we had to hold three services, pushing things to over 4,000 people.
A problem developed in the parking lot because people were losing their tempers when they had to wait so long to exit. I heard stories of harsh words being exchanged and people giving each other the finger.
So I stood up on Sunday and said, "If you are here and you aren't a Christian, we are thrilled to have you in our midst. We want you to feel right at home. But if you are here and you're a Christian and you can't even be a Christian in the parking lot, please don't go out into the world and tell people you're a Christian. You'll screw it up for the rest of us. And by the way, we could use your seat."
People cheered. The more honest, the more raw, the more people loved it.
We had no five-year plan. No vision statement. No "demographic."
All we cared about was trying to teach and live the way of Jesus. It's still all we care about it.
Around this time we were having problems with too many kids in the classrooms—there wasn't enough oxygen. And then the fire marshal showed up. Not good. Legal, but not good. He said we were over code, and we would have to start turning people away. We literally had to post people at the doors, and when the room was full, they had to tell people they weren't legally allowed into the service.
So we bought a mall. Actually, somebody gave us a mall, and we bought the parking lots surrounding it. We blew out the walls of the anchor store to make a room big enough to meet in and then turned the other stores into classrooms for kids. A guy came to one of the first services in the mall-turned-church, and said, "Hey, I used to shoplift in this exact spot."
We were growing. House churches were springing up, partnerships were beginning with other churches around the world, and people who had never been a part of a church were finding a home. Two years into it, around 10,000 people were coming to the three gatherings on Sundays.
In the middle of all this chaos was me, superpastor, doing weddings and funerals and giving spiritual direction and going to meetings and teaching and dealing with crises and visiting people in prison and at the hospital.
It was happening so fast. One minute you have these ideas about how it could be, and the next minute you are leading this exploding church/event/monster.
I tell you all this because there's a dark side. It's one thing to be an intern with dreams about how church should be. It's another thing to be the 30-year-old pastor of a massive church. And that is why I was sitting there thinking about how far I could be by 11 a.m. I escaped to the storage closet to be alone. I was moments away from leaving the whole thing. I just couldn't do it anymore.
People were asking me to write books on how to grow a progressive young church, and I wasn't even sure I was a Christian anymore. I didn't know if I wanted to be a Christian anymore.
I was exhausted. Full of doubt. I had nothing more to say.
And so I sat there with my keys in my hand, turning them over and over, hearing the room getting louder and louder and more and more full. At that moment I made some decisions.
Because without pain, we don't change, do we?
I could talk about the dangers of megachurches and what is wrong with Church Incorporated, but I realized that day that things were wrong with the whole way I was living my life. If I didn't change, I was not going to make it. In that abyss I broke and got help … because it's only when you hit bottom and are desperate enough that things start to get better.
This breakdown, of course, left me with difficult decisions to make. Mars Hill was alive and people were being transformed. Who would leave all that? I decided to be honest about my journey, and if people wanted to come along, great. But I was still going to have to take a new path. And a new journey began, one that has been very, very painful. And very, very freeing.
It was during this period that I learned that I have a soul.
Shalom The tzitzit (seet-see) first appear in Numbers 15 when God says to Moses, "Throughout the generations to come you are to make tassels on the corners of your garments, with a blue cord on each tassel. You will have these tassels to look at and so you will remember all the commands of the Lord, that you may obey them and not prostitute yourselves by chasing after the lusts of your own hearts and eyes. Then you will remember to obey all my commands."
God tells his people to attach tassels to the corners of their garments so they will be constantly visually reminded to live as he created them to live.
The word in Hebrew here for "corners" is kanaf. The word for "tassel" (or "fringe") is tzitzit.To this day, many Jews wear a prayer shawl to obey this text. The prayer shawl is also in a lot of interesting places throughout the Bible. One of the most significant is in the prophet Malachi's prediction about the coming Messiah: "The sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings." The word Malachi uses for wings is kanaf—the same word in Numbers that refers to the edge of a garment, to which the tassels were attached.
So a legend grew that when the Messiah came, there would be special healing powers in his kanaf, in the tassels of his prayer shawl.
Fast-forward to the time of Jesus: A woman has had an illness for twelve years and no one can cure her. She pushes her way through a crowd to get to Jesus, and when she gets close to him, she grabs the edge of his cloak. Jesus, a Torah—observant Jewish rabbi who keeps the Scripture commandments word for word, including passages like Numbers 15, would have been wearing a prayer shawl.
So when the woman grabs the edge of his cloak, she is demonstrating that she believes Jesus' tassels have healing powers. She believes that Jesus is who Malachi was talking about.
She touches his tassels and is healed, just like Malachi said.
But I don't think the physical healing is Jesus' point here. I think it is what Jesus says to her as they part ways. He says to her, "Go in peace." Shalom.
Shalom is an important word in the Bible, and it is not completely accurate to translate it simply as "peace." For many of us, we understand peace to be the absence of conflict. But the Hebraic understanding of shalom is far more. Shalom is the presence of the goodness of God. It's the presence of wholeness, completeness.
So when Jesus tells the woman to go in peace, he is placing the blessing of God on all of her. Not just her physical body. He is blessing her with God's presence on her entire being. For Jesus, being saved or reconciled to God involves far more than just the saving of your physical body or your soul—it involves all of you, living in harmony with him—body, soul, spirit, mind, emotions—every inch of our being.
Restoration There are many dimensions to living in harmony with God. In one sense, salvation is a legal transaction.
Humans are guilty because of our sin, and God is the judge who has to deal with our sin because he is holy and any act of sin goes against his core nature. He has to deal with it. Enter Jesus, who dies on the cross in our place. Jesus gets what we deserve; we get what Jesus deserved.
For Jesus, however, salvation is far more. It includes this understanding, but it is far more comprehensive—it is a way of life. To be saved or redeemed is to enter into a totally new way of living in harmony with God. The rabbis called harmony with God olam haba, which translates "life in the world to come." Salvation is living more and more in harmony with God, a process that will go on forever.
When we understand salvation from a legal-transaction perspective, then the point of the cross becomes what it has done for us. There is the once-and-for-all work of Jesus dying on the cross for our sins and saying, "It is finished."
Nothing more to be offered and nothing more to be sacrificed. We claim this truth as Christians. All has been forgiven. But let's also use a slightly different phrase: the work of the cross in us. The ongoing work of the cross in our hearts and minds and souls and lives. The ongoing need to return to the cross to be reminded of our brokenness and dependence on God. There is the healing we need from the cross every single day.
The point of the cross isn't just forgiveness. Forgiveness leads to something much bigger: restoration. It is not just the removal of what's being held against us; God wants to make us into the people we were originally created to be.
This restoration is why Jesus always orients his message around becoming the kind of people who are generous and loving and compassionate. The goal here isn't simply to not sin. Our purpose is to increase the shalom in this world. It is one thing to be forgiven; it is another thing to become more and more and more and more the person God made you to be. Not just for the life to come. But for now.
For Jesus, salvation is now.
I need a God for now.
I need healing now.
Yes, even greater things will happen someday.
But salvation is now.
This now leads to another danger of embracing only one dimension of salvation.
When faith is defined solely in legal terms, the dominant idea often becomes "inviting Jesus into my heart," a phrase that is not found in the Bible. That doesn't mean it is not legitimate; the problems come when salvation becomes all about me. Me being saved. Me being reconciled to God. The Bible paints a much larger picture of salvation. It describes all of creation being restored. The author of Ephesians writes that all things will be brought together under Jesus. Salvation is the entire universe being brought back into harmony with its maker.
This has huge implications for how people present the message of Jesus. Yes, Jesus can come into our hearts. But we join a movement that is as wide and deep and big as the universe itself. Rocks and trees and birds and swamps and ecosystems. God's desire is to restore all of it.
The point is not me; it's God.
It is possible to be "saved" and not be a healthy, whole, life-giving person. It is possible for the cross to have done something for a person but not in them.
My soul That's what happened to me. I realized I believed in Jesus and thought of myself as "saved" and "reborn," yet massive areas of my life were unaffected. I learned that salvation is for all of me. And for Jesus to heal my soul, I had to stare my junk right in the face.
It has only just begun for me, but a few things have become quite clear.
First, no amount of success can heal a person's soul. In fact, success makes it worse. I started a church and lots of people were coming to hear me speak, but I had things I had never dealt with and they were still there. There is a great saying in the recovery movement: "Wherever you go, there you are." Success doesn't fix our problems and compulsions and addictions.
I started going to counseling to discover and address them. Part of my crash came from my failure to identify these forces until recently. I had been pushing myself and going and going and achieving and not even really knowing why. It is easier to keep going than to stop, face the pain, and begin diving into the root causes.
It is scary to hit the wall because you don't know what's going to happen. And you might get hurt.
But that's what happened to me in that storage room between the 9 and 11 a.m. services, and it was the best thing that could have happened. I couldn't go on. Usually, we can go on. And that's the problem.
We put on the mask, suck it up, and keep going, like it's no big deal.
But it is a big deal.
It's a sign that we are barely hanging on. And it is only when something deep within us snaps that we are ready to start over and get help. We have to let the game stop.
I realize this is not groundbreaking news, but when we get desperate and realize we cannot keep living this way, then we have to change. As I let all this come spewing forth the first time in my therapist's office, he interrupted me. I was making lists of all the people I was working to keep happy. He said it was clear that there were significant numbers of people I was working to please and that my issue was a simple one.
I was anticipating something quite profound as I got out my pen.
He said this: "Sin."
And then he said, in what has become a pivotal moment in my journey, "Your job is the relentless pursuit of who God has made you to be. And anything else you do is sin and you need to repent of it."
The relentless pursuit of who God made me to be.
I started identifying how much of my life was about making sure the right people were pleased with me. And as this became more and more clear, I realized how less and less pleased I was with myself. I'd become so heavily oriented around the expectations of others that I was becoming more and more like them and less and less the person God made me to be.
I was split.
As the lights were turned on, I saw much of my pain was because I wasn't measuring up to the images in my head.
I am not superpastor. I don't do well in an office nine to five. I am institutionally challenged. But I am not defined by what I am not. And understanding this truth is a huge part of becoming whole. I had to stop living in reaction and start letting a vision for what lies ahead pull me forward.
I began to sort out with those around me what God did make me to do. What kept coming up was that my life work is fundamentally creative in nature. And creating has its own rhythms, its own pace. Inspiration comes because of discipline. And discipline comes when you organize your life in specific, intentional ways. And then sticking to it.
I had this false guilt and subsequent shame because I believed that I just wasn't working hard enough. I wasn't superpastor.
I went to the leaders of our church and shared with them my journey as it was unfolding. I told them that if they needed to release me and find superpastor, I understood. If we don't know who we are or where we're trying to go, we put the people around us in an uncomfortable position.
Healing I can't begin to tell you how much better my life is today than it was several years ago. I continue to dig things up and process new insights and learn about my insides. The journey continues.
I'm learning that very few people actually live from their heart. Very few live connected with their soul. And those few who do the difficult work, who stare their junk in the face, who get counsel, who let Jesus into all of the rooms in their soul that no one ever goes in, they make a difference. They are so different; they're coming from such a different place that their voices inevitably get heard above the others. They are pursuing wholeness and shalom, and it's contagious. They inspire me to keep going.
I was sitting in the storage room last week at Mars Hill. The room was filling up for the service at 11 a.m. And I couldn't wait for it to start.
Because Jesus is healing my soul.
Copyright 2005 by Rob Bell. Used by permission of The Zondervan Corporation.
It was time to preach, but I had nothing to say.
by Rob Bell
I could feel my car keys in my pocket, and all I could think about was how far away I could be by 11 a.m. How much gas was in the tank? How fast could I drive?
Sitting on a chair in a storage room, I could hear the worship space filling up with people, and all I wanted to do was leave. What do you do when you're pastor of a church, it's Sunday morning, people are finding their seats, you're scheduled to preach, and you realize you have nothing to say?
How did it come to this? It started out so great …
One minute you have these ideas about how it could be, and the next minute you're leading this exploding church/event/monster.
My wife and I and several others started this church called Mars Hill in February 1999 with dreams of a revolutionary new kind of community. I was 28.
People who are starting churches, or want to someday, often ask me when I knew it was time to do it. And I actually have a coherent answer: I knew it was time when I no longer cared if it was "successful." I'm serious. I had this moment in October 1998 when I realized that if 13 people joined us, and that's all it ever was, that would be okay. This thing inside of me was so strong that I had to act on it. I felt if I didn't, I would be violating something … or somebody.
Better to try and fail … the worst thing would be to live wondering, What if?
The dream actually began years before when Kristen and I were living in Los Angeles. We visited a church called Christian Assembly, and what I saw changed everything for me. This community was exploding with creativity and life—it was like people woke up on Sunday morning and asked themselves, "What would I like to do today more than anything else? How about going to a church service?"
No amount of success can heal a person's soul. In fact, success makes it worse, because "Wherever you, there you are."
This concept was so fresh—people who gathered because they wanted to. There wasn't a trace of empty ritual or obligation anywhere in the place. It didn't matter how far away I had to park. The bond I had with the other people in the room. Not "I have to" but "I get to." Not obligation but celebration. Not duty but desire.
Kristen and I starting attending these services regularly, and then we'd go to Taco Bell and talk about what a church could be.
Desire.
Longing.
Come as you are.
Connection.
A group of people who can imagine nothing better than this.
And so several years, two internships, and a cross-country move later, we did it. We started a church in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Now you have to understand that I started out playing in bands, back when alternative music was … alternative. I understood music to be this raw art form that comes from your guts. Do it yourself. Strip it down. Take away all the fluff and the hype.
This ethos heavily shaped my understanding of what a church should be like: strip everything away and get down to the most basic elements. A group of people desperate to experience God.
Please realize that to this day I have never read a book on church planting or church growth. I remember being told that a sign had been rented with the church name on it to go in front of the building where we were meeting. I was mortified and had them get rid of it. You can't put a sign out front, I argued; people have to want to find us. And so there were no advertisements, no promotions, and no signs.
The thought of the word church and the word marketing in the same sentence makes me sick.
We had these ideas and these dreams, and we went with them.
People would come in, there would be some singing, I would talk about God and Jesus and the Bible and life for about an hour, and then it would be over.
And the strangest thing happened: people came.
I remember that first Sunday like it was yesterday. Someone told me five minutes before the first service to look out the front windows. I was not prepared for what I saw. Cars everywhere. People were giving up trying to get through the traffic and just pulling over on the side of the road, parking, and walking the rest of the way. We ran out of chairs.
Chaos.
I loved it.
Unleashing a monster Now I am going to give you some numbers. I hesitate to do this because few things are more difficult to take than spiritual leaders who are always talking about how big their thing is. But it happened and it's true and it's part of my story.
There were over 1,000 people there the first Sunday. People in the aisles. People on the floor. I ended the message by inviting people to join us on this journey. I talked about the need to explore what a new kind of Christian faith looks like for the new world we find ourselves in. Whatever it was and wherever it led, we were going. "Join us."
The energy in the place was unreal.
The next morning I held a staff meeting. Which means I sat in my office and thought to myself, What have I gotten myself into? Followed closely by, Sunday's coming again.
More people came the next week.
Even more the following week.
I remember telling people we had no more chairs and if they wanted to bring their friends, they would need to buy chairs for them.
By September of that first year, we had to hold three services, pushing things to over 4,000 people.
A problem developed in the parking lot because people were losing their tempers when they had to wait so long to exit. I heard stories of harsh words being exchanged and people giving each other the finger.
So I stood up on Sunday and said, "If you are here and you aren't a Christian, we are thrilled to have you in our midst. We want you to feel right at home. But if you are here and you're a Christian and you can't even be a Christian in the parking lot, please don't go out into the world and tell people you're a Christian. You'll screw it up for the rest of us. And by the way, we could use your seat."
People cheered. The more honest, the more raw, the more people loved it.
We had no five-year plan. No vision statement. No "demographic."
All we cared about was trying to teach and live the way of Jesus. It's still all we care about it.
Around this time we were having problems with too many kids in the classrooms—there wasn't enough oxygen. And then the fire marshal showed up. Not good. Legal, but not good. He said we were over code, and we would have to start turning people away. We literally had to post people at the doors, and when the room was full, they had to tell people they weren't legally allowed into the service.
So we bought a mall. Actually, somebody gave us a mall, and we bought the parking lots surrounding it. We blew out the walls of the anchor store to make a room big enough to meet in and then turned the other stores into classrooms for kids. A guy came to one of the first services in the mall-turned-church, and said, "Hey, I used to shoplift in this exact spot."
We were growing. House churches were springing up, partnerships were beginning with other churches around the world, and people who had never been a part of a church were finding a home. Two years into it, around 10,000 people were coming to the three gatherings on Sundays.
In the middle of all this chaos was me, superpastor, doing weddings and funerals and giving spiritual direction and going to meetings and teaching and dealing with crises and visiting people in prison and at the hospital.
It was happening so fast. One minute you have these ideas about how it could be, and the next minute you are leading this exploding church/event/monster.
I tell you all this because there's a dark side. It's one thing to be an intern with dreams about how church should be. It's another thing to be the 30-year-old pastor of a massive church. And that is why I was sitting there thinking about how far I could be by 11 a.m. I escaped to the storage closet to be alone. I was moments away from leaving the whole thing. I just couldn't do it anymore.
People were asking me to write books on how to grow a progressive young church, and I wasn't even sure I was a Christian anymore. I didn't know if I wanted to be a Christian anymore.
I was exhausted. Full of doubt. I had nothing more to say.
And so I sat there with my keys in my hand, turning them over and over, hearing the room getting louder and louder and more and more full. At that moment I made some decisions.
Because without pain, we don't change, do we?
I could talk about the dangers of megachurches and what is wrong with Church Incorporated, but I realized that day that things were wrong with the whole way I was living my life. If I didn't change, I was not going to make it. In that abyss I broke and got help … because it's only when you hit bottom and are desperate enough that things start to get better.
This breakdown, of course, left me with difficult decisions to make. Mars Hill was alive and people were being transformed. Who would leave all that? I decided to be honest about my journey, and if people wanted to come along, great. But I was still going to have to take a new path. And a new journey began, one that has been very, very painful. And very, very freeing.
It was during this period that I learned that I have a soul.
Shalom The tzitzit (seet-see) first appear in Numbers 15 when God says to Moses, "Throughout the generations to come you are to make tassels on the corners of your garments, with a blue cord on each tassel. You will have these tassels to look at and so you will remember all the commands of the Lord, that you may obey them and not prostitute yourselves by chasing after the lusts of your own hearts and eyes. Then you will remember to obey all my commands."
God tells his people to attach tassels to the corners of their garments so they will be constantly visually reminded to live as he created them to live.
The word in Hebrew here for "corners" is kanaf. The word for "tassel" (or "fringe") is tzitzit.To this day, many Jews wear a prayer shawl to obey this text. The prayer shawl is also in a lot of interesting places throughout the Bible. One of the most significant is in the prophet Malachi's prediction about the coming Messiah: "The sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings." The word Malachi uses for wings is kanaf—the same word in Numbers that refers to the edge of a garment, to which the tassels were attached.
So a legend grew that when the Messiah came, there would be special healing powers in his kanaf, in the tassels of his prayer shawl.
Fast-forward to the time of Jesus: A woman has had an illness for twelve years and no one can cure her. She pushes her way through a crowd to get to Jesus, and when she gets close to him, she grabs the edge of his cloak. Jesus, a Torah—observant Jewish rabbi who keeps the Scripture commandments word for word, including passages like Numbers 15, would have been wearing a prayer shawl.
So when the woman grabs the edge of his cloak, she is demonstrating that she believes Jesus' tassels have healing powers. She believes that Jesus is who Malachi was talking about.
She touches his tassels and is healed, just like Malachi said.
But I don't think the physical healing is Jesus' point here. I think it is what Jesus says to her as they part ways. He says to her, "Go in peace." Shalom.
Shalom is an important word in the Bible, and it is not completely accurate to translate it simply as "peace." For many of us, we understand peace to be the absence of conflict. But the Hebraic understanding of shalom is far more. Shalom is the presence of the goodness of God. It's the presence of wholeness, completeness.
So when Jesus tells the woman to go in peace, he is placing the blessing of God on all of her. Not just her physical body. He is blessing her with God's presence on her entire being. For Jesus, being saved or reconciled to God involves far more than just the saving of your physical body or your soul—it involves all of you, living in harmony with him—body, soul, spirit, mind, emotions—every inch of our being.
Restoration There are many dimensions to living in harmony with God. In one sense, salvation is a legal transaction.
Humans are guilty because of our sin, and God is the judge who has to deal with our sin because he is holy and any act of sin goes against his core nature. He has to deal with it. Enter Jesus, who dies on the cross in our place. Jesus gets what we deserve; we get what Jesus deserved.
For Jesus, however, salvation is far more. It includes this understanding, but it is far more comprehensive—it is a way of life. To be saved or redeemed is to enter into a totally new way of living in harmony with God. The rabbis called harmony with God olam haba, which translates "life in the world to come." Salvation is living more and more in harmony with God, a process that will go on forever.
When we understand salvation from a legal-transaction perspective, then the point of the cross becomes what it has done for us. There is the once-and-for-all work of Jesus dying on the cross for our sins and saying, "It is finished."
Nothing more to be offered and nothing more to be sacrificed. We claim this truth as Christians. All has been forgiven. But let's also use a slightly different phrase: the work of the cross in us. The ongoing work of the cross in our hearts and minds and souls and lives. The ongoing need to return to the cross to be reminded of our brokenness and dependence on God. There is the healing we need from the cross every single day.
The point of the cross isn't just forgiveness. Forgiveness leads to something much bigger: restoration. It is not just the removal of what's being held against us; God wants to make us into the people we were originally created to be.
This restoration is why Jesus always orients his message around becoming the kind of people who are generous and loving and compassionate. The goal here isn't simply to not sin. Our purpose is to increase the shalom in this world. It is one thing to be forgiven; it is another thing to become more and more and more and more the person God made you to be. Not just for the life to come. But for now.
For Jesus, salvation is now.
I need a God for now.
I need healing now.
Yes, even greater things will happen someday.
But salvation is now.
This now leads to another danger of embracing only one dimension of salvation.
When faith is defined solely in legal terms, the dominant idea often becomes "inviting Jesus into my heart," a phrase that is not found in the Bible. That doesn't mean it is not legitimate; the problems come when salvation becomes all about me. Me being saved. Me being reconciled to God. The Bible paints a much larger picture of salvation. It describes all of creation being restored. The author of Ephesians writes that all things will be brought together under Jesus. Salvation is the entire universe being brought back into harmony with its maker.
This has huge implications for how people present the message of Jesus. Yes, Jesus can come into our hearts. But we join a movement that is as wide and deep and big as the universe itself. Rocks and trees and birds and swamps and ecosystems. God's desire is to restore all of it.
The point is not me; it's God.
It is possible to be "saved" and not be a healthy, whole, life-giving person. It is possible for the cross to have done something for a person but not in them.
My soul That's what happened to me. I realized I believed in Jesus and thought of myself as "saved" and "reborn," yet massive areas of my life were unaffected. I learned that salvation is for all of me. And for Jesus to heal my soul, I had to stare my junk right in the face.
It has only just begun for me, but a few things have become quite clear.
First, no amount of success can heal a person's soul. In fact, success makes it worse. I started a church and lots of people were coming to hear me speak, but I had things I had never dealt with and they were still there. There is a great saying in the recovery movement: "Wherever you go, there you are." Success doesn't fix our problems and compulsions and addictions.
I started going to counseling to discover and address them. Part of my crash came from my failure to identify these forces until recently. I had been pushing myself and going and going and achieving and not even really knowing why. It is easier to keep going than to stop, face the pain, and begin diving into the root causes.
It is scary to hit the wall because you don't know what's going to happen. And you might get hurt.
But that's what happened to me in that storage room between the 9 and 11 a.m. services, and it was the best thing that could have happened. I couldn't go on. Usually, we can go on. And that's the problem.
We put on the mask, suck it up, and keep going, like it's no big deal.
But it is a big deal.
It's a sign that we are barely hanging on. And it is only when something deep within us snaps that we are ready to start over and get help. We have to let the game stop.
I realize this is not groundbreaking news, but when we get desperate and realize we cannot keep living this way, then we have to change. As I let all this come spewing forth the first time in my therapist's office, he interrupted me. I was making lists of all the people I was working to keep happy. He said it was clear that there were significant numbers of people I was working to please and that my issue was a simple one.
I was anticipating something quite profound as I got out my pen.
He said this: "Sin."
And then he said, in what has become a pivotal moment in my journey, "Your job is the relentless pursuit of who God has made you to be. And anything else you do is sin and you need to repent of it."
The relentless pursuit of who God made me to be.
I started identifying how much of my life was about making sure the right people were pleased with me. And as this became more and more clear, I realized how less and less pleased I was with myself. I'd become so heavily oriented around the expectations of others that I was becoming more and more like them and less and less the person God made me to be.
I was split.
As the lights were turned on, I saw much of my pain was because I wasn't measuring up to the images in my head.
I am not superpastor. I don't do well in an office nine to five. I am institutionally challenged. But I am not defined by what I am not. And understanding this truth is a huge part of becoming whole. I had to stop living in reaction and start letting a vision for what lies ahead pull me forward.
I began to sort out with those around me what God did make me to do. What kept coming up was that my life work is fundamentally creative in nature. And creating has its own rhythms, its own pace. Inspiration comes because of discipline. And discipline comes when you organize your life in specific, intentional ways. And then sticking to it.
I had this false guilt and subsequent shame because I believed that I just wasn't working hard enough. I wasn't superpastor.
I went to the leaders of our church and shared with them my journey as it was unfolding. I told them that if they needed to release me and find superpastor, I understood. If we don't know who we are or where we're trying to go, we put the people around us in an uncomfortable position.
Healing I can't begin to tell you how much better my life is today than it was several years ago. I continue to dig things up and process new insights and learn about my insides. The journey continues.
I'm learning that very few people actually live from their heart. Very few live connected with their soul. And those few who do the difficult work, who stare their junk in the face, who get counsel, who let Jesus into all of the rooms in their soul that no one ever goes in, they make a difference. They are so different; they're coming from such a different place that their voices inevitably get heard above the others. They are pursuing wholeness and shalom, and it's contagious. They inspire me to keep going.
I was sitting in the storage room last week at Mars Hill. The room was filling up for the service at 11 a.m. And I couldn't wait for it to start.
Because Jesus is healing my soul.
Copyright 2005 by Rob Bell. Used by permission of The Zondervan Corporation.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Salt and Light in the Arena
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2005/107/53.0.html
It's going to take more than a few good Christians to clean up sports.
by Mark Galli posted 02/18/2005 09:30 a.m.
In 1940 undefeated Cornell visited Dartmouth on a late-autumn afternoon with the hopes of securing the national championship of college football. Cornell hadn't lost in three years, and the Associated Press had ranked them No. 1 in the nation all year, and for good reason: they had pummeled all comers by an average score of 30-2.
Dartmouth was not about to roll over, though, and gave Cornell the fight of the season. The teams slogged it out in an exhausting defensive battle—until the fourth quarter when Dartmouth kicked a field goal to take a 3–0 lead.
By the time Cornell was able to drive to the Dartmouth 6-yard line, there were only 45 seconds left to play. Three running plays brought Cornell to within inches of the goal line. With nine second remaining and staring at a fourth down, Cornell called a timeout. But before they could get off the next play, they were flagged for delay of game and penalized five yards. For its final play, Cornell attempted a pass, which Dartmouth broke up—after which the refs huddled immediately. Because of the penalty, the refs were confused—did the previous play occur on third or fourth down? The hurried officials decided to give Cornell one more down. Now with three seconds left, Cornell threw a pass over the middle for a touchdown and the win.
Though there was no instant replay at the time, there was replay—but it took 24 hours to develop the film. The evidence was unmistakable: the refs had given Cornell an extra down. Given the rules, however, the refs were powerless to reverse the score.
But before the day was out, Cornell's coach and university president telegrammed Dartmouth: "We congratulate you on the victory of your fine team. The Cornell touchdown was scored on a fifth down, and we relinquish claim to the victory and extend congratulations to Dartmouth." The gesture of sportsmanship cost Cornell both the game and a national championship.
We were reminded of this noble story last week at a conference on sports law and ethics entitled "Winning at All Cost, Today's Addiction," sponsored by the Valparaiso University School of Law. There were talks and panels that included the likes of Bob Costas and Dick Patrick (USA Today), as well as dozens of lawyers whom I had never heard of (but whose infamous athlete clients I had). There was much talk about steroids and recruiting violations and fights both on the courts and in the stands, as well as talk about legal and medical issues. But I was most interested in what participants thought about the causes of the ethics crisis in sports.
A serious problem, of course, has complex causes. Take just one crisis: baseball's steroid scandal. Bob Costas said, "The media should have started talking about this in the mid-nineties." One lawyer pointed the finger at colleagues who overzealously defend clients they know have taken steroids. Baseball owners, player union representatives, and even clean players came under indictment—why start trouble when fans were once again finally streaming to the parks in record numbers to watch Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, and Barry Bonds hit home run after home run after home run. Steroids were "good" for baseball, no?
Bill Curry, former NFL lineman (with two Super Bowl rings), college coach, and now ESPN analyst, argued that the larger problem is cultural. He said that professional athletes are driven by fear of losing one's position and pride in competing with the best. When he was a pro, playing in the NFL was more important to him than "God, family, money, parties—anything." And he would do anything to stay competitive, to be one of the best in the world. That included using steroids, which he did for a short time (thanks to the intervention of his father, he stopped immediately).
That was when I began thinking that this is where the Christian can, uh, step up to the plate. After all, the Christian athlete knows that winning isn't everything. The Christian coach knows not to try to gain an unfair advantage in competition. What we need, I thought, is just more Christians in sports to bring salt and light to the arena.
And then I was reminded that the big, bright modern sports machine is bigger and darker than we sometimes imagine.
In the fall of 1990, fifty years after the Cornell-Dartmouth game, the now legendary Promise Keeper Bill McCartney coached the Colorado Buffaloes in a dramatic victory over Missouri 33-31 on the game's last play. Replays shown immediately after the game demonstrated clearly that Colorado had accidentally been given a fifth down, and it was on that fifth down that they had scored the winning touchdown.
McCartney had already established himself nationally as a dedicated Christian who tried to follow Jesus Christ in all righteousness. But when shown the irrefutable evidence of the refs' mistake, he defiantly refused to concede the game to Missouri. What made the incident more bitter for Missouri and much of the nation is that Colorado went on to become the national champion that year, an honor they would not have won had they lost that game.
Let's be fair. McCartney coached in the modern era, with that big, bright sports machine incessantly droning 24/7/365, "Winning is everything, winning is everything, winning is everything." In addition, many sports pundits across the land defended his decision. And last but not least, Colorado alumni, boosters, and administrators would have crucified McCartney had he handed the game to Missouri. (Then again, didn't Jesus say that following him entailed taking up one's cross?)
The point is not to single out or excuse McCartney. Instead, I suggest that righteous individuals, no matter how committed, are no match for the principalities and powers of American sports. Are sports corrupt through and through? Of course not. But where they are corrupt, they'll need more than a few heroic religious individuals to make a difference. Probably something on the order of a company of people, a people called out, set apart--a fellowship grounded in such a way that not even the gates of Hades will overcome it.
This article first appeared in the November 28 issue of Christianity Today. Used by permission of Christianity Today International, Carol Stream, IL 60188.
It's going to take more than a few good Christians to clean up sports.
by Mark Galli posted 02/18/2005 09:30 a.m.
In 1940 undefeated Cornell visited Dartmouth on a late-autumn afternoon with the hopes of securing the national championship of college football. Cornell hadn't lost in three years, and the Associated Press had ranked them No. 1 in the nation all year, and for good reason: they had pummeled all comers by an average score of 30-2.
Dartmouth was not about to roll over, though, and gave Cornell the fight of the season. The teams slogged it out in an exhausting defensive battle—until the fourth quarter when Dartmouth kicked a field goal to take a 3–0 lead.
By the time Cornell was able to drive to the Dartmouth 6-yard line, there were only 45 seconds left to play. Three running plays brought Cornell to within inches of the goal line. With nine second remaining and staring at a fourth down, Cornell called a timeout. But before they could get off the next play, they were flagged for delay of game and penalized five yards. For its final play, Cornell attempted a pass, which Dartmouth broke up—after which the refs huddled immediately. Because of the penalty, the refs were confused—did the previous play occur on third or fourth down? The hurried officials decided to give Cornell one more down. Now with three seconds left, Cornell threw a pass over the middle for a touchdown and the win.
Though there was no instant replay at the time, there was replay—but it took 24 hours to develop the film. The evidence was unmistakable: the refs had given Cornell an extra down. Given the rules, however, the refs were powerless to reverse the score.
But before the day was out, Cornell's coach and university president telegrammed Dartmouth: "We congratulate you on the victory of your fine team. The Cornell touchdown was scored on a fifth down, and we relinquish claim to the victory and extend congratulations to Dartmouth." The gesture of sportsmanship cost Cornell both the game and a national championship.
We were reminded of this noble story last week at a conference on sports law and ethics entitled "Winning at All Cost, Today's Addiction," sponsored by the Valparaiso University School of Law. There were talks and panels that included the likes of Bob Costas and Dick Patrick (USA Today), as well as dozens of lawyers whom I had never heard of (but whose infamous athlete clients I had). There was much talk about steroids and recruiting violations and fights both on the courts and in the stands, as well as talk about legal and medical issues. But I was most interested in what participants thought about the causes of the ethics crisis in sports.
A serious problem, of course, has complex causes. Take just one crisis: baseball's steroid scandal. Bob Costas said, "The media should have started talking about this in the mid-nineties." One lawyer pointed the finger at colleagues who overzealously defend clients they know have taken steroids. Baseball owners, player union representatives, and even clean players came under indictment—why start trouble when fans were once again finally streaming to the parks in record numbers to watch Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, and Barry Bonds hit home run after home run after home run. Steroids were "good" for baseball, no?
Bill Curry, former NFL lineman (with two Super Bowl rings), college coach, and now ESPN analyst, argued that the larger problem is cultural. He said that professional athletes are driven by fear of losing one's position and pride in competing with the best. When he was a pro, playing in the NFL was more important to him than "God, family, money, parties—anything." And he would do anything to stay competitive, to be one of the best in the world. That included using steroids, which he did for a short time (thanks to the intervention of his father, he stopped immediately).
That was when I began thinking that this is where the Christian can, uh, step up to the plate. After all, the Christian athlete knows that winning isn't everything. The Christian coach knows not to try to gain an unfair advantage in competition. What we need, I thought, is just more Christians in sports to bring salt and light to the arena.
And then I was reminded that the big, bright modern sports machine is bigger and darker than we sometimes imagine.
In the fall of 1990, fifty years after the Cornell-Dartmouth game, the now legendary Promise Keeper Bill McCartney coached the Colorado Buffaloes in a dramatic victory over Missouri 33-31 on the game's last play. Replays shown immediately after the game demonstrated clearly that Colorado had accidentally been given a fifth down, and it was on that fifth down that they had scored the winning touchdown.
McCartney had already established himself nationally as a dedicated Christian who tried to follow Jesus Christ in all righteousness. But when shown the irrefutable evidence of the refs' mistake, he defiantly refused to concede the game to Missouri. What made the incident more bitter for Missouri and much of the nation is that Colorado went on to become the national champion that year, an honor they would not have won had they lost that game.
Let's be fair. McCartney coached in the modern era, with that big, bright sports machine incessantly droning 24/7/365, "Winning is everything, winning is everything, winning is everything." In addition, many sports pundits across the land defended his decision. And last but not least, Colorado alumni, boosters, and administrators would have crucified McCartney had he handed the game to Missouri. (Then again, didn't Jesus say that following him entailed taking up one's cross?)
The point is not to single out or excuse McCartney. Instead, I suggest that righteous individuals, no matter how committed, are no match for the principalities and powers of American sports. Are sports corrupt through and through? Of course not. But where they are corrupt, they'll need more than a few heroic religious individuals to make a difference. Probably something on the order of a company of people, a people called out, set apart--a fellowship grounded in such a way that not even the gates of Hades will overcome it.
This article first appeared in the November 28 issue of Christianity Today. Used by permission of Christianity Today International, Carol Stream, IL 60188.
Transformed by a Left Hook
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2005/148/53.0.html
For one Anglican priest, boxing is a means of grace.
by Mark Galli posted 12/02/2005 10:00 a.m.
"There are few things more deeply satisfying than a good fight. A hard night in the ring is an enormous catharsis for a man who is struggling with life, but it's more than that too."
These are the words of Anglican priest David B. Smith, Sydney, Australia's "Fighting Father." When he writes about "struggling with life" and the need for catharsis, he knows whereof he speaks. Father Dave tells his story in Sex, the Ring, & the Eucharist: Reflections on Life, Ministry, & Fighting in the Inner City.
A number of years ago, he found himself separated from his wife, struggling for the right to see his daughter, drinking way too much, and increasingly obsessed with thoughts of self-destruction. He seemed to be losing his family, his vocation, and most of his friends. He even made what he calls "a half-hearted attempt" at suicide. At some point, he decided "not to go under, but to fight back." Literally.
So he made his way to Mundine's gym, located on "the roughest street in one of the roughest neighborhoods" just outside of Sydney. "They play hard at Mundine's," he writes. "No pretty boys. No glamour workouts. No white-collar boxercise sessions for indulgent professionals. Just bodies, sweat, testosterone, and blood." The ring stands at the center of the gym, a small ring, "made for brawlers." It was here that he began to transform his life.
"When you step into a ring," he writes, "you're making a decision to take control of your own destiny. The forces that oppose you are no longer vague powers that threaten to overwhelm you from a distance—the law, the courts, the system. No. Your opposition takes clear material form in the shape of the other man advancing on you from the other corner. To get into that ring and to stay in that ring is a decision to give it a go—to put your body on the line and to stand up to the punishment like a man."
Such talk makes some theologians nervous, as if he's advocating a rough-and-tumble, self-help gospel. But he's not so naïve. He's a priest. He knows where salvation comes from. And he knows that faith is not a passive thing.
Biblical faith is Jacob wrestling with an angel of the Lord until the breaking of the day, refusing to quit until he received the blessing (Gen. 32:24-28). It involves beating one's body into submission (1 Cor. 9:26). It is to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work." (Phil. 2:12-13).
Father Dave recognizes that boxing is like many human activities: It can become a sacramental act, the means by which one's prayers for recovery are answered. "Prayer and fighting," he says, "are a powerful combination."
It certainly was for Father Dave. "Fighting is more than a sport. It's a way of life. It is the defiant decision to confront your pain directly and not to be overcome by it. Mundine's gym taught me that, or at least it played a significant role."
He's taken that lesson and now tries to teach it to young men fighting inner demons of rage and despair, as well as demons that attack from without—drinking, drugs, gang warfare. His boxing club meets in an old church building and is a cross between Mundine's gym and Sunday worship. He includes prayer and stresses "the biblical values of courage, integrity, self-discipline, and teamwork." But it's mostly about fighting, and in the center of the room, "where the Holy Table" once stood, now "fight-club members come and lay their bodies on that altar."
"There has been many a holy war that has taken place within those walls over the last ten years or so," he writes wryly. "Many a haughty and arrogant young man has been brought to his knees in that place, with my own left hook often being the tool of transformation."
In my last column, I suggested that the controlled violence of sports can be redemptive and ennobling in many ways. I said I would elaborate how that looks, even in an activity as seemingly non-redemptive as boxing. As Father Dave puts it, "I've seen many a young man here lifted out of a drug-dependent and self-destructive lifestyle through application to the rigors of ring—fighting in this spiritual environment." Including himself.
Mark Galli is managing editor of Christianity Today. Play Ball appears every other week.
This article first appeared in the November 28 issue of Christianity Today. Used by permission of Christianity Today International, Carol Stream, IL 60188."
For one Anglican priest, boxing is a means of grace.
by Mark Galli posted 12/02/2005 10:00 a.m.
"There are few things more deeply satisfying than a good fight. A hard night in the ring is an enormous catharsis for a man who is struggling with life, but it's more than that too."
These are the words of Anglican priest David B. Smith, Sydney, Australia's "Fighting Father." When he writes about "struggling with life" and the need for catharsis, he knows whereof he speaks. Father Dave tells his story in Sex, the Ring, & the Eucharist: Reflections on Life, Ministry, & Fighting in the Inner City.
A number of years ago, he found himself separated from his wife, struggling for the right to see his daughter, drinking way too much, and increasingly obsessed with thoughts of self-destruction. He seemed to be losing his family, his vocation, and most of his friends. He even made what he calls "a half-hearted attempt" at suicide. At some point, he decided "not to go under, but to fight back." Literally.
So he made his way to Mundine's gym, located on "the roughest street in one of the roughest neighborhoods" just outside of Sydney. "They play hard at Mundine's," he writes. "No pretty boys. No glamour workouts. No white-collar boxercise sessions for indulgent professionals. Just bodies, sweat, testosterone, and blood." The ring stands at the center of the gym, a small ring, "made for brawlers." It was here that he began to transform his life.
"When you step into a ring," he writes, "you're making a decision to take control of your own destiny. The forces that oppose you are no longer vague powers that threaten to overwhelm you from a distance—the law, the courts, the system. No. Your opposition takes clear material form in the shape of the other man advancing on you from the other corner. To get into that ring and to stay in that ring is a decision to give it a go—to put your body on the line and to stand up to the punishment like a man."
Such talk makes some theologians nervous, as if he's advocating a rough-and-tumble, self-help gospel. But he's not so naïve. He's a priest. He knows where salvation comes from. And he knows that faith is not a passive thing.
Biblical faith is Jacob wrestling with an angel of the Lord until the breaking of the day, refusing to quit until he received the blessing (Gen. 32:24-28). It involves beating one's body into submission (1 Cor. 9:26). It is to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work." (Phil. 2:12-13).
Father Dave recognizes that boxing is like many human activities: It can become a sacramental act, the means by which one's prayers for recovery are answered. "Prayer and fighting," he says, "are a powerful combination."
It certainly was for Father Dave. "Fighting is more than a sport. It's a way of life. It is the defiant decision to confront your pain directly and not to be overcome by it. Mundine's gym taught me that, or at least it played a significant role."
He's taken that lesson and now tries to teach it to young men fighting inner demons of rage and despair, as well as demons that attack from without—drinking, drugs, gang warfare. His boxing club meets in an old church building and is a cross between Mundine's gym and Sunday worship. He includes prayer and stresses "the biblical values of courage, integrity, self-discipline, and teamwork." But it's mostly about fighting, and in the center of the room, "where the Holy Table" once stood, now "fight-club members come and lay their bodies on that altar."
"There has been many a holy war that has taken place within those walls over the last ten years or so," he writes wryly. "Many a haughty and arrogant young man has been brought to his knees in that place, with my own left hook often being the tool of transformation."
In my last column, I suggested that the controlled violence of sports can be redemptive and ennobling in many ways. I said I would elaborate how that looks, even in an activity as seemingly non-redemptive as boxing. As Father Dave puts it, "I've seen many a young man here lifted out of a drug-dependent and self-destructive lifestyle through application to the rigors of ring—fighting in this spiritual environment." Including himself.
Mark Galli is managing editor of Christianity Today. Play Ball appears every other week.
This article first appeared in the November 28 issue of Christianity Today. Used by permission of Christianity Today International, Carol Stream, IL 60188."
Friday, December 02, 2005
Sports Central in the BGC World
Here is an article about the golf tournament in September...
http://www.bgcworld.org/mag/1205bgc/10.pdf
http://www.bgcworld.org/mag/1205bgc/10.pdf
Thursday, December 01, 2005
How to keep your church passionate about real ministry
From a Leadership article on www.ChristianityToday.com
Vision Leaks
How do you keep the church's passion for ministry from deflating?Andy StanleyJanuary 1, 2004
Vision doesn't stick; it doesn't have natural adhesive. Instead, vision leaks. You've repeated the vision for your church a hundred times. Then someone will ask a question that makes you think, What happened? Didn't they hear what we've said over and over? Don't they know what this church is all about?
You can spot leakage by listening for three things:
1. Prayer requests. What people pray for will tell you more than anything else whether they are locked into the vision and priorities of the church. When you are in a leadership meeting, are the only prayer requests for sick people? When I'm in such a meeting, I say, "Whoa, is anybody in this group burdened for an unchurched or unsaved friend? Yes, let's pray for the sick people. Now, what else can we pray for?"
2. Stories of great things happening in people's lives. If there are no stories, then maybe the vision for life transformation has leaked.
3. What people complain about. If people are complaining about the wrong stuff, then vision is leaking. When they complain about the music, or the parking, or that the church is too big, or there are too many people they don't know, you can respond, "I know. God is blessing us." But it's a sign of vision leakage.
I am often tempted to get frustrated with the people who don't understand the vision, but I have to ask myself some important questions. What do I need to do to assure that we have a compelling vision as an organization, and what must I do to make sure it doesn't leak? If the vision is not communicated in a compelling way, then the organization is going to be unfocused. Wherever focus is lacking, only random activity is left. That's when you wake up and find you don't like the organization you're leading.
It's our job as leaders to get everyone oriented and focused on our main purpose.What causes leaks?
There are three reasons vision seeps away: success, failure, and everything in between.
Success means your options multiply. Size increases complexity, and complexity can confuse vision.
Our church was at its most efficient when there were just six of us sitting around the table. Everybody knew and understood everything. It was as smart and efficient as the organization has ever been. This efficiency leads to success, and success gives birth to complexity, the enemy of efficiency and vision. Many churches become successful organizations where everyone is busy, but they've lost connection with the vision.
Failure will also knock a hole in your vision, if you let it. When a plan or strategy fails, people are tempted to assume it was the wrong vision. Plans and strategies can always be changed and improved. But vision doesn't change. Visions are simply refined with time.
Our first fundraising campaign was a total failure. No money came in, and I didn't follow up or follow through. One day a wonderful lady in our church came up and asked, "Andy, how's it going with the fundraising?" I answered, "It's not going very well at all." She said, "Do you think God's trying to tell us something?"
She clearly was implying that since the plan wasn't working, then the vision for this church must be wrong.
But I knew the vision was right, so I said, "Yes, I think God is trying to tell us something. He's trying to tell us it was a terrible fundraising idea."
We don't have to change the vision because a plan doesn't work out.
You know what else is tough on vision? Life. Every single day of my life works against the vision. Vision is about what could be and should be; life is about right-this-minute. Life is about the kids and the laundry and the doctor and the house payment.
No wonder vision leaks. Monday comes along and rips it off the wall. The urgent and legitimate needs of today can cause us to lose our vision.
In church life, nothing unfocuses us faster than haphazard, "y'all come" programing. Everybody has a favorite program. But adding too many programs to the church schedule will de-focus your church like nothing else.
So we ask hard questions of each potential program: Is this event a step toward maturity, or just more programing? Unless it makes a clear contribution to maturity and life transformation, it will likely become a vision leak.
There are three things you need to do in order to make your vision stick.
Repetition: good, good, good
None of us casts vision enough. Why? Because we think we've already said these things.
Every time I do our January sermon series on vision, I try not to look at last year's notes, but it ends up being the same message anyway. As a communicator I feel the need to come up with something fresh and new. Yet originality is not needed here.
For vision to stick, it has to be cast over and over and over and over, and not just over and over.
Watch your timing
Be strategic about when you cast vision. Obviously, Labor Day weekend is not a good Sunday.
At North Point, we take two or three Sundays every January to reiterate what is vitally important and explain why we do what we're doing.
We also have a period in May or June, just before school is out, when we spend three weeks on "Strategic Service." I cast the vision for volunteers. I talk about mission, vision, values, and what's coming up next fall. It's also the time we recruit leaders for the upcoming school year.
Cast strategically
Whether it's across the table with a church leader, at a planning retreat, or talking to the whole church—every time you talk about what could be and should be, you're casting vision.
For instance, every one of my newsletter articles is vision oriented. I don't write devotional thoughts—those I can give on Sundays. If people are going to read a newsletter, I want every article to remind them of our mission and vision.
When we talk about the vision, it needs to be in a way that's clear and compelling to those we are addressing. Three components help me keep the vision compelling:
1. Define the problem. You must ask the question, What problem is my organization attempting to solve? There is something that will not get done if we don't do it. If we don't do what we do, there's a group of people that won't be reached. When you talk about vision, you need to begin by talking about why your church exists. What is the problem that God has called you to solve?
2. Offer a solution. Your vision is the solution to a problem, and when you can couple a problem that people feel emotionally with a clear solution, you are on your way to capturing their hearts. Then you can also capture a piece of their time and effort. Is your vision for your church a solution to a problem?
3. Present an urgent reason. In other words, answer the questions, Why must we do this? And why must we do it now?
I'll never forget when we started North Point. Most of the people who came to our initial meeting about starting a church passed about a dozen churches on their way. What do you say when you stand up in front of those people and tell them about starting another church?
Some natural questions have to be faced: Why in the world are you starting another church? What is it that's not being done that needs to be done? What can we do about it? And why are we the ones to move in that direction?
So I talked about the need for "relevant environments" where lost and disillusioned people could connect with their Heavenly Father. I explained that it wasn't God who turned people off, it was usually a person's previous experiences with the church. Our vision was to create a safe, relevant place for lost people and Christians to bring their lost friends. The reason for the now was simply the urgency for people to come to Christ, not knowing when He will return.
I had to answer those questions so clearly that everybody who heard me talk about starting this church knew "Andy's going to do it anyway."
With clear answers to those questions, something comes alive in people, and the vision drives them to contribute their time, talents, and treasure.
If you can develop a phrase that you can say over and over to your people, whether it's across the lunch table or in your sermons, then you are on your way to casting vision.
At North Point, we put it this way: "Our mission is to lead people into a growing relationship with Jesus Christ by creating environments where people are encouraged and equipped to pursue intimacy with God, community with insiders, and influence with outsiders."
Learn to celebrate the vision
Many churches never stop to celebrate, and they're missing a great—and fun—opportunity to reinforce the vision. Celebration is what puts skin on the vision. I received one of those great e-mails from a lady in our church. It brought tears to my eyes. She wrote: "In your talk last Sunday you spoke about the impact that small group leaders have on the children in their group. I wanted to let you know about my son's small group leader. My son Graham is in the fifth grade and his group leader is Greg.
"As you know, Greg was called into active service as a part of the Iraqi freedom mission. Greg was sent to Italy, then Turkey, and then to an aircraft carrier. But did that stop him from being concerned about the members of his small group? No. Greg sent e-mails from Turkey to the kids in his group, telling what was doing and asking how the kids were doing. He even went so far as to call Graham from Turkey."
Did that have an impact? It sure did! Greg cared enough about his small group members to keep in contact while in a war zone. It made me think. What do you do with an e-mail like that? You celebrate it!
So on Strategic Service Sunday, I talked about serving in the local church and the opportunity to get involved. I used all my persuasion skills because we needed to enlist lots of volunteers in the following three weeks to staff our fall programs.
During that service I said, "Let me read you an e-mail from one of our volunteers."
Since Greg was back home by then, I'd asked him to sit in the front row wearing his military uniform. I read the e-mail. People were visibly moved.
Then I said, "Greg, would you stand?" And people applauded. After that service, more people volunteered than we could have imagined.
Nothing gives definition to vision like celebrating victories.
Baptism is another great opportunity to celebrate. In order to be baptized in our church, in addition to acknowledging a personal Christian faith, each person must do a two to three-minute videotaped testimony that we play in the service right before the baptism.
This is their opportunity to tell their story to the whole congregation. We encourage them to share what God has done in their life. One will say, "I was lost and somebody invited me to North Point. I came, I trusted Christ, and now I'm in a small group." Then they are baptized, and their small group stands and cheers. That embodies the vision. Almost every Sunday we find a way to celebrate, hoot and holler, yell and scream.
Once a year isn't enough. Spontaneously isn't enough. You must celebrate the vision over and over.
Learn to live it
Your willingness to embody the vision of your organization has a direct impact on your credibility as a leader. The moment you begin to look for ways to celebrate something that's not happening in your own life, people will know. One of the things that my wife Sandra and I are committed to is developing relationships with unchurched friends.
My oldest son, Andrew, is 11. He was selected to be on an All-Star baseball team this spring. This community baseball team was our mission field, and we were there to be an influence, to connect with and pray for the kids on the team and their parents.
As the season went on, Andrew wasn't getting much playing time. Occasionally he'd be put in right field. The coaches promised to play him but rarely did. He tried to be strong, but his heart would break every time.
At one point, we had won enough games to qualify for the state finals. One night as they played the remaining, relatively meaningless, regular season game and were losing 12-3, Andrew was still warming the bench. Eventually the coach put him in right field. Then, just before Andrew was due to bat, the coach pulled him out for another batter.
There was my son, batting helmet on, having to trot back to the bench in a game that didn't matter.
I felt a level of anger I had never experienced as an adult.
I got up and went around to the other side of the ball field to nurse my anger. I was thinking of what I was going to say to the coaches. There was no excuse for this!
Then, just as the game was about to end, a guy behind me said, "Andy."
I turned around. He told me his name and started talking. I'm thinking, Look … I'm focused. I'm angry. I'm rehearsing my speech.
"Andy, I just got to tell you," he said, "I hadn't been to church in over 30 years. But my wife started going to North Point, and she started trying to get me to come."
As he's telling me this story, inside I'm thinking, Oh no you don't, Lord. I came over here to be mad! This may be Andrew's last game. Nobody treats my son this way! And you are not going to mess me up with this unchurched person.
He went on and on. The game was over. He shared about how he'd been coming to North Point and had begun to read his Bible, joined a small group Bible study, and his life had changed.
I know I was supposed to be happy, but I didn't want to hear it because I couldn't wait to go over and lecture the coach. But as he talked, I felt like God was embracing me. Remember why you're here. Remember. Remember.
After the game, both teams were supposed to go for ice cream. I was thinking, I'm not going. I can't face those coaches. But Andrew wanted to be with his team, so we got the whole family in the car. I was still steaming; I couldn't even talk.
Nine-year-old Garret picked up on my emotions. "I can't believe the coach," he said, "I can't believe it!"
I can't describe how close I was to losing it, but the reality of the situation finally dawned on me.
By God's grace I said to my family: "Didn't we decide this spring we're not here because of baseball? Right, Andrew? I think that maybe something good will come from this. We can't quit, because this isn't about baseball." And I made myself get some ice cream.
Not long ago I saw one of the coaches and his family in the third row of our church. In a meeting with the coaches and parents at the season's end, the coach praised Andrew for his attitude and said the rest of the team needed to have the same attitude.
But I can't describe how close I was to losing it that night.
Life is brutal on vision. It can cause serious vision leakage. But if we as leaders can live through the stuff of life to maintain a focus on the vision, our people will, too.
Andy Stanley is pastor of North Point Community Church in Alpharetta, Georgia.
Vision Leaks
How do you keep the church's passion for ministry from deflating?Andy StanleyJanuary 1, 2004
Vision doesn't stick; it doesn't have natural adhesive. Instead, vision leaks. You've repeated the vision for your church a hundred times. Then someone will ask a question that makes you think, What happened? Didn't they hear what we've said over and over? Don't they know what this church is all about?
You can spot leakage by listening for three things:
1. Prayer requests. What people pray for will tell you more than anything else whether they are locked into the vision and priorities of the church. When you are in a leadership meeting, are the only prayer requests for sick people? When I'm in such a meeting, I say, "Whoa, is anybody in this group burdened for an unchurched or unsaved friend? Yes, let's pray for the sick people. Now, what else can we pray for?"
2. Stories of great things happening in people's lives. If there are no stories, then maybe the vision for life transformation has leaked.
3. What people complain about. If people are complaining about the wrong stuff, then vision is leaking. When they complain about the music, or the parking, or that the church is too big, or there are too many people they don't know, you can respond, "I know. God is blessing us." But it's a sign of vision leakage.
I am often tempted to get frustrated with the people who don't understand the vision, but I have to ask myself some important questions. What do I need to do to assure that we have a compelling vision as an organization, and what must I do to make sure it doesn't leak? If the vision is not communicated in a compelling way, then the organization is going to be unfocused. Wherever focus is lacking, only random activity is left. That's when you wake up and find you don't like the organization you're leading.
It's our job as leaders to get everyone oriented and focused on our main purpose.What causes leaks?
There are three reasons vision seeps away: success, failure, and everything in between.
Success means your options multiply. Size increases complexity, and complexity can confuse vision.
Our church was at its most efficient when there were just six of us sitting around the table. Everybody knew and understood everything. It was as smart and efficient as the organization has ever been. This efficiency leads to success, and success gives birth to complexity, the enemy of efficiency and vision. Many churches become successful organizations where everyone is busy, but they've lost connection with the vision.
Failure will also knock a hole in your vision, if you let it. When a plan or strategy fails, people are tempted to assume it was the wrong vision. Plans and strategies can always be changed and improved. But vision doesn't change. Visions are simply refined with time.
Our first fundraising campaign was a total failure. No money came in, and I didn't follow up or follow through. One day a wonderful lady in our church came up and asked, "Andy, how's it going with the fundraising?" I answered, "It's not going very well at all." She said, "Do you think God's trying to tell us something?"
She clearly was implying that since the plan wasn't working, then the vision for this church must be wrong.
But I knew the vision was right, so I said, "Yes, I think God is trying to tell us something. He's trying to tell us it was a terrible fundraising idea."
We don't have to change the vision because a plan doesn't work out.
You know what else is tough on vision? Life. Every single day of my life works against the vision. Vision is about what could be and should be; life is about right-this-minute. Life is about the kids and the laundry and the doctor and the house payment.
No wonder vision leaks. Monday comes along and rips it off the wall. The urgent and legitimate needs of today can cause us to lose our vision.
In church life, nothing unfocuses us faster than haphazard, "y'all come" programing. Everybody has a favorite program. But adding too many programs to the church schedule will de-focus your church like nothing else.
So we ask hard questions of each potential program: Is this event a step toward maturity, or just more programing? Unless it makes a clear contribution to maturity and life transformation, it will likely become a vision leak.
There are three things you need to do in order to make your vision stick.
Repetition: good, good, good
None of us casts vision enough. Why? Because we think we've already said these things.
Every time I do our January sermon series on vision, I try not to look at last year's notes, but it ends up being the same message anyway. As a communicator I feel the need to come up with something fresh and new. Yet originality is not needed here.
For vision to stick, it has to be cast over and over and over and over, and not just over and over.
Watch your timing
Be strategic about when you cast vision. Obviously, Labor Day weekend is not a good Sunday.
At North Point, we take two or three Sundays every January to reiterate what is vitally important and explain why we do what we're doing.
We also have a period in May or June, just before school is out, when we spend three weeks on "Strategic Service." I cast the vision for volunteers. I talk about mission, vision, values, and what's coming up next fall. It's also the time we recruit leaders for the upcoming school year.
Cast strategically
Whether it's across the table with a church leader, at a planning retreat, or talking to the whole church—every time you talk about what could be and should be, you're casting vision.
For instance, every one of my newsletter articles is vision oriented. I don't write devotional thoughts—those I can give on Sundays. If people are going to read a newsletter, I want every article to remind them of our mission and vision.
When we talk about the vision, it needs to be in a way that's clear and compelling to those we are addressing. Three components help me keep the vision compelling:
1. Define the problem. You must ask the question, What problem is my organization attempting to solve? There is something that will not get done if we don't do it. If we don't do what we do, there's a group of people that won't be reached. When you talk about vision, you need to begin by talking about why your church exists. What is the problem that God has called you to solve?
2. Offer a solution. Your vision is the solution to a problem, and when you can couple a problem that people feel emotionally with a clear solution, you are on your way to capturing their hearts. Then you can also capture a piece of their time and effort. Is your vision for your church a solution to a problem?
3. Present an urgent reason. In other words, answer the questions, Why must we do this? And why must we do it now?
I'll never forget when we started North Point. Most of the people who came to our initial meeting about starting a church passed about a dozen churches on their way. What do you say when you stand up in front of those people and tell them about starting another church?
Some natural questions have to be faced: Why in the world are you starting another church? What is it that's not being done that needs to be done? What can we do about it? And why are we the ones to move in that direction?
So I talked about the need for "relevant environments" where lost and disillusioned people could connect with their Heavenly Father. I explained that it wasn't God who turned people off, it was usually a person's previous experiences with the church. Our vision was to create a safe, relevant place for lost people and Christians to bring their lost friends. The reason for the now was simply the urgency for people to come to Christ, not knowing when He will return.
I had to answer those questions so clearly that everybody who heard me talk about starting this church knew "Andy's going to do it anyway."
With clear answers to those questions, something comes alive in people, and the vision drives them to contribute their time, talents, and treasure.
If you can develop a phrase that you can say over and over to your people, whether it's across the lunch table or in your sermons, then you are on your way to casting vision.
At North Point, we put it this way: "Our mission is to lead people into a growing relationship with Jesus Christ by creating environments where people are encouraged and equipped to pursue intimacy with God, community with insiders, and influence with outsiders."
Learn to celebrate the vision
Many churches never stop to celebrate, and they're missing a great—and fun—opportunity to reinforce the vision. Celebration is what puts skin on the vision. I received one of those great e-mails from a lady in our church. It brought tears to my eyes. She wrote: "In your talk last Sunday you spoke about the impact that small group leaders have on the children in their group. I wanted to let you know about my son's small group leader. My son Graham is in the fifth grade and his group leader is Greg.
"As you know, Greg was called into active service as a part of the Iraqi freedom mission. Greg was sent to Italy, then Turkey, and then to an aircraft carrier. But did that stop him from being concerned about the members of his small group? No. Greg sent e-mails from Turkey to the kids in his group, telling what was doing and asking how the kids were doing. He even went so far as to call Graham from Turkey."
Did that have an impact? It sure did! Greg cared enough about his small group members to keep in contact while in a war zone. It made me think. What do you do with an e-mail like that? You celebrate it!
So on Strategic Service Sunday, I talked about serving in the local church and the opportunity to get involved. I used all my persuasion skills because we needed to enlist lots of volunteers in the following three weeks to staff our fall programs.
During that service I said, "Let me read you an e-mail from one of our volunteers."
Since Greg was back home by then, I'd asked him to sit in the front row wearing his military uniform. I read the e-mail. People were visibly moved.
Then I said, "Greg, would you stand?" And people applauded. After that service, more people volunteered than we could have imagined.
Nothing gives definition to vision like celebrating victories.
Baptism is another great opportunity to celebrate. In order to be baptized in our church, in addition to acknowledging a personal Christian faith, each person must do a two to three-minute videotaped testimony that we play in the service right before the baptism.
This is their opportunity to tell their story to the whole congregation. We encourage them to share what God has done in their life. One will say, "I was lost and somebody invited me to North Point. I came, I trusted Christ, and now I'm in a small group." Then they are baptized, and their small group stands and cheers. That embodies the vision. Almost every Sunday we find a way to celebrate, hoot and holler, yell and scream.
Once a year isn't enough. Spontaneously isn't enough. You must celebrate the vision over and over.
Learn to live it
Your willingness to embody the vision of your organization has a direct impact on your credibility as a leader. The moment you begin to look for ways to celebrate something that's not happening in your own life, people will know. One of the things that my wife Sandra and I are committed to is developing relationships with unchurched friends.
My oldest son, Andrew, is 11. He was selected to be on an All-Star baseball team this spring. This community baseball team was our mission field, and we were there to be an influence, to connect with and pray for the kids on the team and their parents.
As the season went on, Andrew wasn't getting much playing time. Occasionally he'd be put in right field. The coaches promised to play him but rarely did. He tried to be strong, but his heart would break every time.
At one point, we had won enough games to qualify for the state finals. One night as they played the remaining, relatively meaningless, regular season game and were losing 12-3, Andrew was still warming the bench. Eventually the coach put him in right field. Then, just before Andrew was due to bat, the coach pulled him out for another batter.
There was my son, batting helmet on, having to trot back to the bench in a game that didn't matter.
I felt a level of anger I had never experienced as an adult.
I got up and went around to the other side of the ball field to nurse my anger. I was thinking of what I was going to say to the coaches. There was no excuse for this!
Then, just as the game was about to end, a guy behind me said, "Andy."
I turned around. He told me his name and started talking. I'm thinking, Look … I'm focused. I'm angry. I'm rehearsing my speech.
"Andy, I just got to tell you," he said, "I hadn't been to church in over 30 years. But my wife started going to North Point, and she started trying to get me to come."
As he's telling me this story, inside I'm thinking, Oh no you don't, Lord. I came over here to be mad! This may be Andrew's last game. Nobody treats my son this way! And you are not going to mess me up with this unchurched person.
He went on and on. The game was over. He shared about how he'd been coming to North Point and had begun to read his Bible, joined a small group Bible study, and his life had changed.
I know I was supposed to be happy, but I didn't want to hear it because I couldn't wait to go over and lecture the coach. But as he talked, I felt like God was embracing me. Remember why you're here. Remember. Remember.
After the game, both teams were supposed to go for ice cream. I was thinking, I'm not going. I can't face those coaches. But Andrew wanted to be with his team, so we got the whole family in the car. I was still steaming; I couldn't even talk.
Nine-year-old Garret picked up on my emotions. "I can't believe the coach," he said, "I can't believe it!"
I can't describe how close I was to losing it, but the reality of the situation finally dawned on me.
By God's grace I said to my family: "Didn't we decide this spring we're not here because of baseball? Right, Andrew? I think that maybe something good will come from this. We can't quit, because this isn't about baseball." And I made myself get some ice cream.
Not long ago I saw one of the coaches and his family in the third row of our church. In a meeting with the coaches and parents at the season's end, the coach praised Andrew for his attitude and said the rest of the team needed to have the same attitude.
But I can't describe how close I was to losing it that night.
Life is brutal on vision. It can cause serious vision leakage. But if we as leaders can live through the stuff of life to maintain a focus on the vision, our people will, too.
Andy Stanley is pastor of North Point Community Church in Alpharetta, Georgia.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Devotion #4 - November 2005 (just in time)
TGIF Today God Is First
=============================
by Os Hillman, November 30, 2005
Obedience-Based Decisions
We are witnesses of these things, and so is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey Him. - Acts 5:32
So often we as a society equate numbers with success. The larger the conference, the more successful we deem it. The larger a church, the more we believe that God is blessing. And so on. I recall planning a conference one time. Registrations were not where I felt they needed to be a few weeks before the date of the event. It wasn't long before I began to get "under the pile" about the level of attendance.
My friend, who was organizing this conference with me, called and asked how I was doing. I had to confess where I was. He immediately reminded me of my own teaching in this area. We are all called to be led by the Spirit, not by outcomes. "If God called us to put on this conference, then the outcome is up to Him if we have done our part."
He went on to explain how he learned this lesson in a similar way a few years earlier. He and a friend were led to host a Bible study group. His friend was to speak. It was nine o'clock and they were the only two people there. His friend was discouraged and was ready to leave. "No," said my friend. "We have done what the Holy Spirit directed." Hethen stood up and began to welcome people as though there were many in the room. (No one was in the room.) He introduced his friend and they began the meeting. A few minutes later, people began to straggle in. By the time the meeting was over, ten had shown up, and one man in particular was impacted by the meeting.
Being led by the Spirit often means we must not use the world's standard for success as our measuring stick. You never know what an act of obedience will yield at the time. We must leave results to God. Our role is to obey. His role is to bring results from our obedience.
Do you make decisions based on the potential outcome or by the direction of the Holy Spirit in your life? Do you overly evaluate the pros and cons without consideration to what the Holy Spirit might be saying deep inside?
We are all prone to make decisions based on reasoning alone. Ask God to give you a willingness and ability to hear the Holy Spirit and to obey His promptings.
=============================
by Os Hillman, November 30, 2005
Obedience-Based Decisions
We are witnesses of these things, and so is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey Him. - Acts 5:32
So often we as a society equate numbers with success. The larger the conference, the more successful we deem it. The larger a church, the more we believe that God is blessing. And so on. I recall planning a conference one time. Registrations were not where I felt they needed to be a few weeks before the date of the event. It wasn't long before I began to get "under the pile" about the level of attendance.
My friend, who was organizing this conference with me, called and asked how I was doing. I had to confess where I was. He immediately reminded me of my own teaching in this area. We are all called to be led by the Spirit, not by outcomes. "If God called us to put on this conference, then the outcome is up to Him if we have done our part."
He went on to explain how he learned this lesson in a similar way a few years earlier. He and a friend were led to host a Bible study group. His friend was to speak. It was nine o'clock and they were the only two people there. His friend was discouraged and was ready to leave. "No," said my friend. "We have done what the Holy Spirit directed." Hethen stood up and began to welcome people as though there were many in the room. (No one was in the room.) He introduced his friend and they began the meeting. A few minutes later, people began to straggle in. By the time the meeting was over, ten had shown up, and one man in particular was impacted by the meeting.
Being led by the Spirit often means we must not use the world's standard for success as our measuring stick. You never know what an act of obedience will yield at the time. We must leave results to God. Our role is to obey. His role is to bring results from our obedience.
Do you make decisions based on the potential outcome or by the direction of the Holy Spirit in your life? Do you overly evaluate the pros and cons without consideration to what the Holy Spirit might be saying deep inside?
We are all prone to make decisions based on reasoning alone. Ask God to give you a willingness and ability to hear the Holy Spirit and to obey His promptings.
Monday, November 28, 2005
The Business of the Kingdom
http://www.ctlibrary.com/ct/1999/november15/9td042.html
Excerpts (you really need to read the whole thing - especially the last half):
Management is about people:
All managers do the same things, whatever the purpose of their organization. All of them have to bring people each possessing different knowledge together for joint performance. All of them have to make human strengths productive in performance and human weaknesses irrelevant. All of them have to think through what results are wanted in the organization and have then to define objectives.
Management by objectives is a management style identified with Drucker. Sometimes, unfortunately, the phrase has come to mean something quite different than Drucker intended. For some, management by objectives means setting targets and insisting that your staff meet them. It can stand for a relentless bottom-line mentality.
That is almost the opposite of Drucker's idea. Drucker calls for the worker, together with his boss, to develop meaningful objectives based on a thorough understanding of the work. Meaningful objectives begin with the mission of the organization and require much thought and understanding of the unique contribution a worker can make to that mission.
Management by objectives means giving workers autonomy helping them to set goals and freeing them to find their own way to reach those goals. This is quite different from supervision, in which a manager sets goals, tells the worker how to achieve them, and then keeps a close eye on the worker to see that he follows directions. Management by objectives expects a lot of creativity from workers and offers them considerable dignity.
A manager, whether in a ball-bearing manufacturer or in a large church, should spend hours placing people in the job to match their strengths, helping them to define their objectives, finding the resources they need to work effectively. Management is largely about people, not so much about their feelings as their effectiveness. Drucker's unstated assumption is that the best thing you can offer a person is the chance to contribute to a worthwhile cause.
Organizations exist to meet needs:
Drucker's understanding of business is also humane. He has never accepted profit as a goal for any enterprise. Rather, profit is a necessity for without an adequate margin of profit, business cannot survive, or if it survives, cannot grow and innovate. Profit is always a means to an end, never an end.
Nor does business, in Drucker's mind, exist to make and sell things. Business exists to meet human needs. Drucker's starting place for management is very simple but also very stimulating: you have to define what needs you will meet, and how.
One of Drucker's examples is the emergency room of a hospital. "It took us a long time to come up with the very simple and (most people thought) too obvious statement that the emergency room was there to give assurance to the afflicted . In a good emergency room, the function is to tell eight out of ten people there is nothing wrong that a good night's sleep won't take care of. Translating that mission statement into action meant that everybody who comes in is now seen by a qualified person in less than a minute. That is the mission; that is the goal. The rest is implementation. Some people are immediately rushed to intensive care, others get a lot of tests, and yet others are told: 'Go back home, go to sleep, take an aspirin, and don't worry. If these things persist, see a physician tomorrow.' But the first objective is to see everybody, almost immediately because that is the only way to give assurance."
Excerpts (you really need to read the whole thing - especially the last half):
Management is about people:
All managers do the same things, whatever the purpose of their organization. All of them have to bring people each possessing different knowledge together for joint performance. All of them have to make human strengths productive in performance and human weaknesses irrelevant. All of them have to think through what results are wanted in the organization and have then to define objectives.
Management by objectives is a management style identified with Drucker. Sometimes, unfortunately, the phrase has come to mean something quite different than Drucker intended. For some, management by objectives means setting targets and insisting that your staff meet them. It can stand for a relentless bottom-line mentality.
That is almost the opposite of Drucker's idea. Drucker calls for the worker, together with his boss, to develop meaningful objectives based on a thorough understanding of the work. Meaningful objectives begin with the mission of the organization and require much thought and understanding of the unique contribution a worker can make to that mission.
Management by objectives means giving workers autonomy helping them to set goals and freeing them to find their own way to reach those goals. This is quite different from supervision, in which a manager sets goals, tells the worker how to achieve them, and then keeps a close eye on the worker to see that he follows directions. Management by objectives expects a lot of creativity from workers and offers them considerable dignity.
A manager, whether in a ball-bearing manufacturer or in a large church, should spend hours placing people in the job to match their strengths, helping them to define their objectives, finding the resources they need to work effectively. Management is largely about people, not so much about their feelings as their effectiveness. Drucker's unstated assumption is that the best thing you can offer a person is the chance to contribute to a worthwhile cause.
Organizations exist to meet needs:
Drucker's understanding of business is also humane. He has never accepted profit as a goal for any enterprise. Rather, profit is a necessity for without an adequate margin of profit, business cannot survive, or if it survives, cannot grow and innovate. Profit is always a means to an end, never an end.
Nor does business, in Drucker's mind, exist to make and sell things. Business exists to meet human needs. Drucker's starting place for management is very simple but also very stimulating: you have to define what needs you will meet, and how.
One of Drucker's examples is the emergency room of a hospital. "It took us a long time to come up with the very simple and (most people thought) too obvious statement that the emergency room was there to give assurance to the afflicted . In a good emergency room, the function is to tell eight out of ten people there is nothing wrong that a good night's sleep won't take care of. Translating that mission statement into action meant that everybody who comes in is now seen by a qualified person in less than a minute. That is the mission; that is the goal. The rest is implementation. Some people are immediately rushed to intensive care, others get a lot of tests, and yet others are told: 'Go back home, go to sleep, take an aspirin, and don't worry. If these things persist, see a physician tomorrow.' But the first objective is to see everybody, almost immediately because that is the only way to give assurance."
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Coach's Pep Talk
(Article from ChristianityToday.com
http://www.christianitytoday.com/leaders/newsletter/2005/cln51114.html)
Leader's Insight: Get Back in the Game!A halftime speech to a tired teammate.
by Clark Cothern, guest columnist
To my fellow teammate in the great contest:
Encouragement is my thing. Admonishment isn't. I'd rather be with the team, bolstering confidence and rooting them to victory, than in the locker room at halftime, screaming at them to get their act together, pointing out what I'm quite sure they already know that they're doing wrong.
That's why I usually go in for practical pats on the back, and why I shy away from spiritual coaching that turns out sounding like a rebuke or a reprimand. I try to imitate one of my favorite coaches of all time, Paul.
Paul followed pretty much in the coaching footsteps of Jesus. Paul told stories about his amazing recruitment: how he went from being a scout for the wrong team to becoming first-string quarterback for Team Jesus. But occasionally, when some of his fellow teammates started running toward the wrong goalposts, even Paul had to haul out some halftime speeches that singed the old ear hairs.
But you know what? Teams that win have coaches that aren't afraid to coach. And from what I understood, Paul wanted to win—not just the Homecoming game, but the whole championship. That's why he said, "Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win" (1 Corinthians 9:24, MSG).
I'm not completely sure, but it's a fair guess that the same Paul who wrote "Run to win!" also wrote, "God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them. We want each of you to show this same diligence to the very end, in order to make your hope sure. We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised" (Hebrews 6:10-12, NIV).
Now here's the deal. Listen up. I know you're sucking air, but take a few deep breaths and focus. From watching the first half, it's pretty obvious that you have been up against it. You're up against it emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Join the club, because all of us are a wadded up conglomeration of emotion, intellect and spirit.
That's why I'm passing along to you, my weary teammate, some of the same halftime admonishments passed along to me by Coach Paul, because his coaching has been responsible for many battles won, including a few of my own. And I know you want to win battles … don't you? Don't you?!!
Need I remind you what stakes we are playing for? Need I remind you that over that goal line of faith lies victory—forever—to those who cross it? Need I remind you that we carry the gospel and we hand it off to others, and we block for them and we bust a gut for them so that they too can cross the line, and so that they too can know Jesus? Need I remind you that part of our game plan includes "admonishing every man and teaching every man with all wisdom, so that we may present every man complete in Christ" (Colossians 1:28, NASB)?
How are we supposed to present every man? (I can't hear you.)
How are we supposed to present every man? (I still can't hear you!)
HOW are we supposed to present every man? (That's better.)
That's right. Complete in Christ. It is for this purpose (presenting every man complete in Christ) that we work until our tongues hang out. We're not working just to put points up on the board. We're working, striving, digging in, getting muddy, getting beat up, leaving some blood on the field, because what we do matters!
How can we be complete if we crawl off into the locker room at halftime and lick our wounds? Not by going to the whirlpool while everybody else gets out there and takes the hits. Nope, we're going to get our blood pumping again by fueling up with the Coach's power. I'm not talking about me. I'm not even talking about Coach Paul. I'm not talking about some powder-puff power. I'm talking game-winning mighty power! It's that mighty power that works within us, but only if we draw strength from the other weary warriors who are beating their brains out in the same game. You feel me, dawg?!
Would you like to know what the opposing team's coach has cookin' in his playbook? He would love to see our team members, one by one, start crawling off into their own corners of the locker room, where his whisper campaign can kick in: "You're losing," he snarls. "You ain't got what it takes," he sneers. "Might as well pack it in and rub on the Icy Hot, 'cause the game's over for you." Those whispers start sounding pretty loud when you're all alone in a cavernous locker room where the voices bounce off the walls. The best way to silence those voices is to get some other teammates around you to absorb the sound waves from the enemy.
Let me ask you something: Do you honestly think you would EVER see Paul crawlin' away when the goin' got tough? Huh? Paul might have gotten tired in the game, but he never, NEVER got tired of the game.
And let me tell you something from my own experience. On those days when I'd just as soon turn in my resignation and get me a real job, I'd show up, take a deep breath, start to feel that mighty power well up within me, and by the time we finished with practice, or with the game, I discovered that the rest of the members of the team had given back to me what I didn't even have to give them when I showed up. That mighty power is unleashed in community. And that same power is sucked away like a dirt devil when you're all alone.
Listen. If Paul were here, he'd lean in close and tell you, with holy spit on his lips and holy tears in his eyes, that he prays for you. That's the kind of coach he is. He'd say that he prays, not just every now and then, but he prays for you both night and day. That's how earnest he is about his goal of presenting you complete in Christ. He'd say, "I want to help supply you with what is lacking in your game. I want to fill the cracks in your faith" (See 1 Thessalonians 3:10).
One last word before we head back onto the field. You can't build a man up by putting him down. I'm not giving you this speech to tear you down. I'm giving you this halftime speech because I want to build you up. I want you back in the game. I want to challenge you to rise up, not poop out; to stand tall, not shrink back; to move forward, not retreat. I want you to be all you can be, in Christ, complete in him. What you do matters. So take a deep breath and get back in the game.
Now let's get back out there and win a championship!
(Clark Cothern pastors Living Water Community Church, Ypsilanti, MI.)
http://www.christianitytoday.com/leaders/newsletter/2005/cln51114.html)
Leader's Insight: Get Back in the Game!A halftime speech to a tired teammate.
by Clark Cothern, guest columnist
To my fellow teammate in the great contest:
Encouragement is my thing. Admonishment isn't. I'd rather be with the team, bolstering confidence and rooting them to victory, than in the locker room at halftime, screaming at them to get their act together, pointing out what I'm quite sure they already know that they're doing wrong.
That's why I usually go in for practical pats on the back, and why I shy away from spiritual coaching that turns out sounding like a rebuke or a reprimand. I try to imitate one of my favorite coaches of all time, Paul.
Paul followed pretty much in the coaching footsteps of Jesus. Paul told stories about his amazing recruitment: how he went from being a scout for the wrong team to becoming first-string quarterback for Team Jesus. But occasionally, when some of his fellow teammates started running toward the wrong goalposts, even Paul had to haul out some halftime speeches that singed the old ear hairs.
But you know what? Teams that win have coaches that aren't afraid to coach. And from what I understood, Paul wanted to win—not just the Homecoming game, but the whole championship. That's why he said, "Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win" (1 Corinthians 9:24, MSG).
I'm not completely sure, but it's a fair guess that the same Paul who wrote "Run to win!" also wrote, "God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them. We want each of you to show this same diligence to the very end, in order to make your hope sure. We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised" (Hebrews 6:10-12, NIV).
Now here's the deal. Listen up. I know you're sucking air, but take a few deep breaths and focus. From watching the first half, it's pretty obvious that you have been up against it. You're up against it emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Join the club, because all of us are a wadded up conglomeration of emotion, intellect and spirit.
That's why I'm passing along to you, my weary teammate, some of the same halftime admonishments passed along to me by Coach Paul, because his coaching has been responsible for many battles won, including a few of my own. And I know you want to win battles … don't you? Don't you?!!
Need I remind you what stakes we are playing for? Need I remind you that over that goal line of faith lies victory—forever—to those who cross it? Need I remind you that we carry the gospel and we hand it off to others, and we block for them and we bust a gut for them so that they too can cross the line, and so that they too can know Jesus? Need I remind you that part of our game plan includes "admonishing every man and teaching every man with all wisdom, so that we may present every man complete in Christ" (Colossians 1:28, NASB)?
How are we supposed to present every man? (I can't hear you.)
How are we supposed to present every man? (I still can't hear you!)
HOW are we supposed to present every man? (That's better.)
That's right. Complete in Christ. It is for this purpose (presenting every man complete in Christ) that we work until our tongues hang out. We're not working just to put points up on the board. We're working, striving, digging in, getting muddy, getting beat up, leaving some blood on the field, because what we do matters!
How can we be complete if we crawl off into the locker room at halftime and lick our wounds? Not by going to the whirlpool while everybody else gets out there and takes the hits. Nope, we're going to get our blood pumping again by fueling up with the Coach's power. I'm not talking about me. I'm not even talking about Coach Paul. I'm not talking about some powder-puff power. I'm talking game-winning mighty power! It's that mighty power that works within us, but only if we draw strength from the other weary warriors who are beating their brains out in the same game. You feel me, dawg?!
Would you like to know what the opposing team's coach has cookin' in his playbook? He would love to see our team members, one by one, start crawling off into their own corners of the locker room, where his whisper campaign can kick in: "You're losing," he snarls. "You ain't got what it takes," he sneers. "Might as well pack it in and rub on the Icy Hot, 'cause the game's over for you." Those whispers start sounding pretty loud when you're all alone in a cavernous locker room where the voices bounce off the walls. The best way to silence those voices is to get some other teammates around you to absorb the sound waves from the enemy.
Let me ask you something: Do you honestly think you would EVER see Paul crawlin' away when the goin' got tough? Huh? Paul might have gotten tired in the game, but he never, NEVER got tired of the game.
And let me tell you something from my own experience. On those days when I'd just as soon turn in my resignation and get me a real job, I'd show up, take a deep breath, start to feel that mighty power well up within me, and by the time we finished with practice, or with the game, I discovered that the rest of the members of the team had given back to me what I didn't even have to give them when I showed up. That mighty power is unleashed in community. And that same power is sucked away like a dirt devil when you're all alone.
Listen. If Paul were here, he'd lean in close and tell you, with holy spit on his lips and holy tears in his eyes, that he prays for you. That's the kind of coach he is. He'd say that he prays, not just every now and then, but he prays for you both night and day. That's how earnest he is about his goal of presenting you complete in Christ. He'd say, "I want to help supply you with what is lacking in your game. I want to fill the cracks in your faith" (See 1 Thessalonians 3:10).
One last word before we head back onto the field. You can't build a man up by putting him down. I'm not giving you this speech to tear you down. I'm giving you this halftime speech because I want to build you up. I want you back in the game. I want to challenge you to rise up, not poop out; to stand tall, not shrink back; to move forward, not retreat. I want you to be all you can be, in Christ, complete in him. What you do matters. So take a deep breath and get back in the game.
Now let's get back out there and win a championship!
(Clark Cothern pastors Living Water Community Church, Ypsilanti, MI.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)