As I write this note tonight, my eyes are crying quiet, steady tears. I just told my bowling team goodbye, and that goodbye signaled the true beginning to the end of my time in South Carolina. I’ve been saying goodbye for the past few weeks, gradually packing things up and letting things go, but the whole time I’ve known that I’d see my bowling team again tonight.
For almost every Thursday night of the past three years, I have bowled with Bob, Mel, and Laurie. Our team mom, Mary Ellen, has been with us most nights, cheering us on, and our team brother, Kevin, has been our faithful substitute when we could not bowl. We have had good nights and bad nights. Nights of laughing so hard that we could not speak. Nights of finishing early and nights of finishing late. Days in tournaments when our only goal was to bowl “average or above.” Days of wins and days of losses. Days of wearing out bowling shoes and wearing in new balls. Hours of watching bowling form and naming our opponents with appropriate names. And tonight, for the first and last time ever, we had a frame in which the whole team got a strike. I presented Coach Bob with an antique pewter bowling plaque after this moment occurred!
My eyes are tired. They are tired from two good days. Days where they have seen:
A surprised look on the McDonalds drive-thru worker’s face after I told him he smelled good.
A group of children enjoying a well-done children’s play that starred one of my dearest friends.
A sincere car appraiser whose goal was to make my post-fender-bender experience as pleasant as possible.
One of the best zoo visits of my life, during which the animals were super active and I ran into Christine the 77-year-old zoo volunteer with a cool British accent. Christine and I walked together for at least an hour and talked about the animals and life and how she lived in Africa for 12 years, writing for documentaries. She also worked for NPR for a few years. The brown bears swam, walked, jumped, pooped, peed, and sat up. The koala bears were awake and one of them was eating. The gorilla was splayed out for the world to see. And the siamongs were singing. It was all quite amazing.
A confused massage therapist’s face when I told her that my right butt cheek could make my left arm-pit numb.
Two beautiful friends for coffee.
One disorganized mess of finances become organized.
My counselor for the last time.
One amazing friend and her loving husband in a lovely park on her birthday.
The difference in the Moe’s dinner crowd between 5:15 and 6:00pm.
The rundown comfort and familiarity of AMF Park Lanes.
The final Thursday night journey home from the bowling alley, at the end of which I greet my beautiful lake.
I think I will put my happily sad, joyfully mourning, gratefully grieving eyes to bed now. The end of my time in South Carolina is drawing near, and the mixture of emotions coupled with the physical labor of moving is going to leave me needing all the rest I can get.
God, thank you for eyes to see, ears to hear, and a bed in which to rest. Help me, now, to rest. Amen.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
Rule Breaker
Sometimes, I break the rules.
For instance, the instructions I received this weekend were to write, “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
Instead, I wrote, “You are there.”
Both phrases are from Psalm 139.
But right now, at this time in my life, “You are there” are the words that speak most to me.
God is there. Through darkness. Through light. Through good times. Through bad. Through days of work. Through days of unemployment. Through days of struggle. Through days of plenty. Through days of friendship. Through days of betrayal. God is there.
And I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Even if I do break the rules.
For instance, the instructions I received this weekend were to write, “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
Instead, I wrote, “You are there.”
Both phrases are from Psalm 139.
But right now, at this time in my life, “You are there” are the words that speak most to me.
God is there. Through darkness. Through light. Through good times. Through bad. Through days of work. Through days of unemployment. Through days of struggle. Through days of plenty. Through days of friendship. Through days of betrayal. God is there.
And I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Even if I do break the rules.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Waiting With Open Arms
Today’s question of the day: If you could live the life of any Bible character for one week, then who would you choose? Do you have a particular week in mind?
My answer: The father in the story of the prodigal son…the week that the prodigal son comes home.
Other than Jesus himself, the father in this story is probably the most influential Bible character in my life. His love let his son go, realizing that he couldn’t keep him there, but never let him wander far from his heart or the hope of reconciliation and redemption. The father continued with his life. He took care of his responsibilities and remaining family yet looked down the road each day, praying for his son “to come to himself” and realize that he could come home. His father only wanted his son to come home. He only wanted to hold him in his arms and let him know that he was loved.
I want my love to be like the father’s. Steady. Hopeful. Believing. Forgiving. Unwavering. Always.
You came into my life and gave me a new song
We were very best of friends but then something went wrong
I compromised what’s right, didn’t always stand for Christ
And it hurts, life without you hurts
But without you I see what true love is meant to be
Not a game we’re meant to win, but a path we have to walk
Just like the Father of the son, waited with open arms
To embrace the hurt, he embraced the hurt
So you can hate me and curse my name
Run away in anger, write words to shame me
I understand, I understand
I still love you and I bless your name
I give Christ the anger, the hurt, the pain
And trust his hand, to take your hand
Because I can’t
If I’ve had a thousand friends, I’m lucky to have one
Whose light won’t fade away with the setting of the sun
But as the days come and go, we change as we grow
Though it hurts, growing apart hurts
But grasping to a string in the cold, dark, stale air
It won’t get you very far, it won’t get you anywhere
It’s crying out in the night and standing for what is right
That’ll heal the hurt, it’ll heal the hurt
So you can hate me and curse my name
Run away in anger, write words to shame me
I understand, I understand
I still love you and I bless your name
I give Christ the anger, the hurt, the pain
And trust his hand, to take your hand
Until I can
My answer: The father in the story of the prodigal son…the week that the prodigal son comes home.
Other than Jesus himself, the father in this story is probably the most influential Bible character in my life. His love let his son go, realizing that he couldn’t keep him there, but never let him wander far from his heart or the hope of reconciliation and redemption. The father continued with his life. He took care of his responsibilities and remaining family yet looked down the road each day, praying for his son “to come to himself” and realize that he could come home. His father only wanted his son to come home. He only wanted to hold him in his arms and let him know that he was loved.
I want my love to be like the father’s. Steady. Hopeful. Believing. Forgiving. Unwavering. Always.
You came into my life and gave me a new song
We were very best of friends but then something went wrong
I compromised what’s right, didn’t always stand for Christ
And it hurts, life without you hurts
But without you I see what true love is meant to be
Not a game we’re meant to win, but a path we have to walk
Just like the Father of the son, waited with open arms
To embrace the hurt, he embraced the hurt
So you can hate me and curse my name
Run away in anger, write words to shame me
I understand, I understand
I still love you and I bless your name
I give Christ the anger, the hurt, the pain
And trust his hand, to take your hand
Because I can’t
If I’ve had a thousand friends, I’m lucky to have one
Whose light won’t fade away with the setting of the sun
But as the days come and go, we change as we grow
Though it hurts, growing apart hurts
But grasping to a string in the cold, dark, stale air
It won’t get you very far, it won’t get you anywhere
It’s crying out in the night and standing for what is right
That’ll heal the hurt, it’ll heal the hurt
So you can hate me and curse my name
Run away in anger, write words to shame me
I understand, I understand
I still love you and I bless your name
I give Christ the anger, the hurt, the pain
And trust his hand, to take your hand
Until I can
Monday, September 17, 2012
Energy Level Of A Slug
My mom said it would be a good title for a book. Since I’m not writing a book, I decided to make it the title for today’s note. Because it’s true. I have the energy level of a slug.
The past weeks’ whirlwind withstanding, being sick has sucked the life out of me. My body has lain down its emphatic statement, “Slow down. Rest. You’re pushing me too hard. I’m not a fan of the pace you’re making me keep.”
And so. I’ve slowed to the pace of a slug and I have a bit of whiplash.
I’ll recover soon. I’ve been faithfully taking my medicine and resting. I have a big pile of mess upstairs that I must unpack and figure out where to place. I have an apartment to move out of in South Carolina :-(. I have a lot of grief to work through. I have a retreat to plan. I have some massages to receive. I have a call to discern. I have a life to plan. I have a play to see. I have legs to shave. I have a dog to bathe. I have friends to see.
Like I said. I’ll recover soon. I hope. But for now, I have the energy level of a slug. I’m just glad that I’m not slimy and that I have hands and feet.
The past weeks’ whirlwind withstanding, being sick has sucked the life out of me. My body has lain down its emphatic statement, “Slow down. Rest. You’re pushing me too hard. I’m not a fan of the pace you’re making me keep.”
And so. I’ve slowed to the pace of a slug and I have a bit of whiplash.
I’ll recover soon. I’ve been faithfully taking my medicine and resting. I have a big pile of mess upstairs that I must unpack and figure out where to place. I have an apartment to move out of in South Carolina :-(. I have a lot of grief to work through. I have a retreat to plan. I have some massages to receive. I have a call to discern. I have a life to plan. I have a play to see. I have legs to shave. I have a dog to bathe. I have friends to see.
Like I said. I’ll recover soon. I hope. But for now, I have the energy level of a slug. I’m just glad that I’m not slimy and that I have hands and feet.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
In The Stirring, There Is Love
I don’t understand God. Really. I don’t. And I guess that’s okay. I guess what matters is that I love God and am willing to trust in this Life-Force so much bigger than myself.
For awhile now, I’ve carried a sense of restlessness deep inside. It’s a feeling that’s difficult to describe but one that’s very real and powerful—a stirring of sorts—an anticipation—a loneliness that will not subside—a question of if there is something more—a yearning for peace that cannot be quenched.
A few weeks ago, I scratched out a simple prayer so that I could see it. “Help.” Songs and psalms and other words of scripture played through my head as I cried out to God that night, but the one word that kept coming back was help. Help me, God. Help me in my work. Help me in my friendships. Help me be a good family member. Help me share your love. Help me rest in what I have instead of longing for something more. Help me fall into a community where I can live and serve and find purpose. Help me be myself. Help me to feel your love surrounding me rather than this loneliness within. Help me, God. Help.
Little did I know that my prayer would be answered so quickly and that the answer would be for me to enter into a time of focused discernment—a time of sabbatical and rest.
I told someone the other day that I’m taking a leap of faith and hoping to land safely on the other side. It’s odd to be taking this leap—having no idea where it ill lead—to school, to church, to chaplaincy, to something I cannot imagine? It’s odd to think of structures, routines, and plans all coming undone so that my life is a blank slate. It’s odd not knowing where money will come from or how I’ll be able to buy people gifts :-). Yet. I’ve always wanted to fly. And I know that my friends and family will not let me go hungry and that I have people praying for me whose prayers will not let me down.
I don’t understand God. Really. I don’t. But I understand love. And I know that love surrounds me today.
Green transitions to orange and red
A gentle breeze caressing skin
As eyes close to rest in the moment.
It’s unspoken understanding that transcends the what,
What filling the silence only as nervous energy drawn by
Connection too deep for words.
Beauty lives where senses are heightened and
Awareness of creation is so real that it dances a waltz for the very first time.
What fades into the background as
Sweet fragrance takes center stage and
Presence becomes undeniable.
Capture the moment in picture—
Oils or pastels or watercolors feverishly transforming canvas
From barren white to radiant color.
Capture the moment in song—
Harps or keys or drums bursting forth from soft rustle
Creating vibrations so simple and powerful that they invoke passionate tears.
Green transitions to orange and red
A gentle breeze caressing skin
As eyes close to rest in the moment.
Humility envelopes any thought of pride:
There is Love much bigger than life and
Love’s Peace decorates the world today.
For awhile now, I’ve carried a sense of restlessness deep inside. It’s a feeling that’s difficult to describe but one that’s very real and powerful—a stirring of sorts—an anticipation—a loneliness that will not subside—a question of if there is something more—a yearning for peace that cannot be quenched.
A few weeks ago, I scratched out a simple prayer so that I could see it. “Help.” Songs and psalms and other words of scripture played through my head as I cried out to God that night, but the one word that kept coming back was help. Help me, God. Help me in my work. Help me in my friendships. Help me be a good family member. Help me share your love. Help me rest in what I have instead of longing for something more. Help me fall into a community where I can live and serve and find purpose. Help me be myself. Help me to feel your love surrounding me rather than this loneliness within. Help me, God. Help.
Little did I know that my prayer would be answered so quickly and that the answer would be for me to enter into a time of focused discernment—a time of sabbatical and rest.
I told someone the other day that I’m taking a leap of faith and hoping to land safely on the other side. It’s odd to be taking this leap—having no idea where it ill lead—to school, to church, to chaplaincy, to something I cannot imagine? It’s odd to think of structures, routines, and plans all coming undone so that my life is a blank slate. It’s odd not knowing where money will come from or how I’ll be able to buy people gifts :-). Yet. I’ve always wanted to fly. And I know that my friends and family will not let me go hungry and that I have people praying for me whose prayers will not let me down.
I don’t understand God. Really. I don’t. But I understand love. And I know that love surrounds me today.
Green transitions to orange and red
A gentle breeze caressing skin
As eyes close to rest in the moment.
It’s unspoken understanding that transcends the what,
What filling the silence only as nervous energy drawn by
Connection too deep for words.
Beauty lives where senses are heightened and
Awareness of creation is so real that it dances a waltz for the very first time.
What fades into the background as
Sweet fragrance takes center stage and
Presence becomes undeniable.
Capture the moment in picture—
Oils or pastels or watercolors feverishly transforming canvas
From barren white to radiant color.
Capture the moment in song—
Harps or keys or drums bursting forth from soft rustle
Creating vibrations so simple and powerful that they invoke passionate tears.
Green transitions to orange and red
A gentle breeze caressing skin
As eyes close to rest in the moment.
Humility envelopes any thought of pride:
There is Love much bigger than life and
Love’s Peace decorates the world today.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Standing in the Downpour
I doubt Michael W. Smith meant a literal downpour when he wrote the song, “One More Time,” but I certainly did find myself standing in a downpour on Saturday afternoon. A simple trip down the steps to get my book bag turned into my jumping into the lake in the rain after I felt a beckoning to float on its waters.
After standing in the rain under a tree for about 10 minutes, I said, “I’m going in.” Don’t worry. I wasn’t completely irresponsible. I went upstairs and got my earplugs and went to the gazebo and got my floatation devices, and then I jumped in.
The rain stopped and started, sometimes barely falling, sometimes falling so hard that it bounced high off of the lake. As I lay back and floated, knowing that I was safely held, I thought the words to Michael’s song:
There always seems to be a door that you can't open
There always seems to be a mountain you can't climb
But you keep on reaching
You just keep on reaching
When your destiny is out there in the distance
But the road ahead's a mine field in disguise
And you keep on moving You Just keep on moving
You will make it through this
Just give it time You gotta give it time
This is what you're made for
Standing in the downpour
Knowing that the sun will shine
Forget what lies behind you
Heaven walks beside you
You got to give it one more try
One more time
You just keep on reaching
You just keep on, you keep on moving
When the shadows fall on everything you're dreaming
When the promises turn out to be a lie
You just keep believing
You just keep believing
Oh, don't stop your dreaming
It's gonna be alright
As I continued to lay suspended on water, raindrops falling on my face, I sang to myself:
What can wash away my sins?
Nothing by the love of Jesus.
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the love of Jesus.
Oh precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow
No other fount I know
Nothing but the love of Jesus
As water covered my body and I felt the water surrounding me, holding me, I prayed:
Create in me a clean heart oh God
And renew a right spirit within me
Cast me not away from thy presence O Lord
And take not thy Holy Spirit from me
Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation
And renew a right spirit within me
And as I “stood” in the downpour in total surrender, I said:
Therefore, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, whatever is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
This is what I’m made for. Standing in the downpour. Knowing that the sun will shine. And the sun did shine. And I returned to the lake to watch it set last night. And I kept believing. And I’ll keep believing. And I’ll give it one more try. One more time. Again and again. Amen and Amen.
After standing in the rain under a tree for about 10 minutes, I said, “I’m going in.” Don’t worry. I wasn’t completely irresponsible. I went upstairs and got my earplugs and went to the gazebo and got my floatation devices, and then I jumped in.
The rain stopped and started, sometimes barely falling, sometimes falling so hard that it bounced high off of the lake. As I lay back and floated, knowing that I was safely held, I thought the words to Michael’s song:
There always seems to be a door that you can't open
There always seems to be a mountain you can't climb
But you keep on reaching
You just keep on reaching
When your destiny is out there in the distance
But the road ahead's a mine field in disguise
And you keep on moving You Just keep on moving
You will make it through this
Just give it time You gotta give it time
This is what you're made for
Standing in the downpour
Knowing that the sun will shine
Forget what lies behind you
Heaven walks beside you
You got to give it one more try
One more time
You just keep on reaching
You just keep on, you keep on moving
When the shadows fall on everything you're dreaming
When the promises turn out to be a lie
You just keep believing
You just keep believing
Oh, don't stop your dreaming
It's gonna be alright
As I continued to lay suspended on water, raindrops falling on my face, I sang to myself:
What can wash away my sins?
Nothing by the love of Jesus.
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the love of Jesus.
Oh precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow
No other fount I know
Nothing but the love of Jesus
As water covered my body and I felt the water surrounding me, holding me, I prayed:
Create in me a clean heart oh God
And renew a right spirit within me
Cast me not away from thy presence O Lord
And take not thy Holy Spirit from me
Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation
And renew a right spirit within me
And as I “stood” in the downpour in total surrender, I said:
Therefore, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, whatever is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
This is what I’m made for. Standing in the downpour. Knowing that the sun will shine. And the sun did shine. And I returned to the lake to watch it set last night. And I kept believing. And I’ll keep believing. And I’ll give it one more try. One more time. Again and again. Amen and Amen.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Praying
There’s been a lot of praying going on this week. Me praying for others. Others praying for me. All of us praying for one another…and world peace :-).
Last night, I posted a status that said, “I'm pretty sure that if I entered a family and friends competition right now, then I'd win. I am blessed.” I mean that to the core of my being. I am blessed beyond words to have the friends and family members that I do. It’s one of those facts that I always know but that becomes overwhelmingly clear ever so often.
This week has been one of those weeks.
I’m thankful for the Book of Common Prayer. Yes, I’m Baptist, but I think there is much to learn about and experience of God in the Book of Common Prayer, and I know that when we don’t feel like faith is sustaining us, the words in its pages—the routine, the familiarity, the comfort of the words from saints throughout history—can move us through until we feel again.
And so today, I turn to the Book of Common Prayer to finish my note. Not because I don’t feel anything but because I feel too much and need help sorting through it all.
First, a Collect of Peace, 99:
O God, the author of peace and lover of concord, to know you is eternal life and to serve you is perfect freedom: Defend us, your humble servants, in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in your defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries; through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Last, The General Thanksgiving, pg. 101:
Almighty God, Father of all mercies,
We your unworthy servants give you humble thanks
For all your goodness and loving-kindness
To us and to all whom you have made.
We bless you for our creation, preservation,
And all the blessings of this life;
But above all for your immeasurable love
In the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ;
For the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.
And, we pray, give us such an awareness of your mercies,
That with truly thankful hearts we may show forth your praise,
Not only with our lips, but in our lives,
By giving up ourselves to your service,
And by walking before you
In holiness and righteousness all our days;
Through Jesus Christ our Lord,
To whom, with you and the Holy Spirit,
Be honor and glory throughout all ages. Amen.
God...thank you for the people in my life who show me grace, mercy, love, and redemption not only with their lips but also with their lives and service. I am blessed. And I thank you in ways that words cannot express. Amen. And amen.
Last night, I posted a status that said, “I'm pretty sure that if I entered a family and friends competition right now, then I'd win. I am blessed.” I mean that to the core of my being. I am blessed beyond words to have the friends and family members that I do. It’s one of those facts that I always know but that becomes overwhelmingly clear ever so often.
This week has been one of those weeks.
I’m thankful for the Book of Common Prayer. Yes, I’m Baptist, but I think there is much to learn about and experience of God in the Book of Common Prayer, and I know that when we don’t feel like faith is sustaining us, the words in its pages—the routine, the familiarity, the comfort of the words from saints throughout history—can move us through until we feel again.
And so today, I turn to the Book of Common Prayer to finish my note. Not because I don’t feel anything but because I feel too much and need help sorting through it all.
First, a Collect of Peace, 99:
O God, the author of peace and lover of concord, to know you is eternal life and to serve you is perfect freedom: Defend us, your humble servants, in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in your defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries; through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Last, The General Thanksgiving, pg. 101:
Almighty God, Father of all mercies,
We your unworthy servants give you humble thanks
For all your goodness and loving-kindness
To us and to all whom you have made.
We bless you for our creation, preservation,
And all the blessings of this life;
But above all for your immeasurable love
In the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ;
For the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.
And, we pray, give us such an awareness of your mercies,
That with truly thankful hearts we may show forth your praise,
Not only with our lips, but in our lives,
By giving up ourselves to your service,
And by walking before you
In holiness and righteousness all our days;
Through Jesus Christ our Lord,
To whom, with you and the Holy Spirit,
Be honor and glory throughout all ages. Amen.
God...thank you for the people in my life who show me grace, mercy, love, and redemption not only with their lips but also with their lives and service. I am blessed. And I thank you in ways that words cannot express. Amen. And amen.
Monday, September 3, 2012
A Labor Day Reflection
The beginning of October will mark my third anniversary with SC WMU. It’s hard to describe everything I’ve experienced since beginning my work with WMU, so I will simply say that I’m grateful for my job and the opportunities that it affords.
As I was preparing for my first Associational Leadership Training in 2010, feeling completely overwhelmed and ignorant, I stumbled upon an explanation of “Why We Do Missions” that spoke to the very core of my being. It still does.
It says:
Luke recorded the mission that Jesus identified as his mission: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18-19).
Jesus proclaimed the Kingdom of God and gave witness to the redemptive acts of God. He taught his disciples to do likewise, and they saw him practice this as he went from place to place. They saw Jesus teach the people, forgive their sins, and heal their diseases and sicknesses. Later, Jesus commissioned them to be witnesses of God’s saving grace and to make disciples of all people, everywhere. “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you” (John 20:21).
Jesus provided the model for believers to be involved in the mission of God. After his resurrection and before his ascension, Jesus instructed his followers to “go and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19). Jesus’ followers were to be witnesses for him “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8).
--pg. 10, 2008 How To Involve Churches in Associational Missions, WMU
Jesus, son of God, son of Man, proclaimed that the Spirit of the Lord was on him to:
• preach good news to the poor—those lacking material necessities, mental clarity, spiritual understanding, emotional discernment—
• to proclaim freedom for the prisoners—those bound by chains, fears, worries, anxieties—
• and sight for the blind—those without literal and figurative sight—
• to release the oppressed—those subjected to negativity and abuse—
• to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor—a time of celebration and forgiveness.
Jesus, son of God, son of Man, gave witness to the redemptive acts of God through his life—through his living, breathing, eating, sleeping, talking, teaching, walking, praying, resting, laughing example of life. He saw people and people saw him:
• forgiving sins—letting people know that they could be made whole again and that there is nothing beyond the love of God—
• healing diseases and sicknesses—setting demons free by giving ear and voice to the secrets that bind and laying hands on broken bodies that need loving touch.
Jesus, son of God, son of Man, commissioned us to do likewise. He left us with the task of being witnesses to God’s saving grace and showing all peoples how to live in this amazing grace. Through our lives and work—in WMU and beyond—we have the privilege of living, breathing, eating, sleeping, talking, teaching, walking, praying, resting, and laughing the sheer joy of God’s peaceful, powerful, transforming, loving, redemptive grace.
And I don’t know about you, but, this, to me, is why I do missions. And this is why I will labor today, and tomorrow, and in all the days to come.
As I was preparing for my first Associational Leadership Training in 2010, feeling completely overwhelmed and ignorant, I stumbled upon an explanation of “Why We Do Missions” that spoke to the very core of my being. It still does.
It says:
Luke recorded the mission that Jesus identified as his mission: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18-19).
Jesus proclaimed the Kingdom of God and gave witness to the redemptive acts of God. He taught his disciples to do likewise, and they saw him practice this as he went from place to place. They saw Jesus teach the people, forgive their sins, and heal their diseases and sicknesses. Later, Jesus commissioned them to be witnesses of God’s saving grace and to make disciples of all people, everywhere. “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you” (John 20:21).
Jesus provided the model for believers to be involved in the mission of God. After his resurrection and before his ascension, Jesus instructed his followers to “go and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19). Jesus’ followers were to be witnesses for him “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8).
--pg. 10, 2008 How To Involve Churches in Associational Missions, WMU
Jesus, son of God, son of Man, proclaimed that the Spirit of the Lord was on him to:
• preach good news to the poor—those lacking material necessities, mental clarity, spiritual understanding, emotional discernment—
• to proclaim freedom for the prisoners—those bound by chains, fears, worries, anxieties—
• and sight for the blind—those without literal and figurative sight—
• to release the oppressed—those subjected to negativity and abuse—
• to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor—a time of celebration and forgiveness.
Jesus, son of God, son of Man, gave witness to the redemptive acts of God through his life—through his living, breathing, eating, sleeping, talking, teaching, walking, praying, resting, laughing example of life. He saw people and people saw him:
• forgiving sins—letting people know that they could be made whole again and that there is nothing beyond the love of God—
• healing diseases and sicknesses—setting demons free by giving ear and voice to the secrets that bind and laying hands on broken bodies that need loving touch.
Jesus, son of God, son of Man, commissioned us to do likewise. He left us with the task of being witnesses to God’s saving grace and showing all peoples how to live in this amazing grace. Through our lives and work—in WMU and beyond—we have the privilege of living, breathing, eating, sleeping, talking, teaching, walking, praying, resting, and laughing the sheer joy of God’s peaceful, powerful, transforming, loving, redemptive grace.
And I don’t know about you, but, this, to me, is why I do missions. And this is why I will labor today, and tomorrow, and in all the days to come.
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