Good News Club, part 2

Yesterday I spent the afternoon in Vilonia, Arkansas visiting a Good News Club held in the local elementary school there. This club is one of my favorites (if not my favorite) and I love visiting with the kids and staff.

The main teacher is a older gentleman, a bit rough around the edges, but extremely lovable. He and his wife have been involved with CEF since before I was alive. His way of teaching is...interesting, to say the least, but the kids are learning and they do love coming to club.

Have you ever noticed the great penchant for cheesiness in American Christianity? I have. Yesterday during club we sang an old CEF song which, thankfully, has been laid to rest. One of the lines in the song went something like this: "so we travel this world together, my Bible and I...". As we sang that line I immediately pictured myself driving down the road chillaxing, with a giant Bible sitting next to me in the passenger's seat. In my mental picture, the Bible had hands and feet, like something akin to Psalty the Singing Songbook. I had to laugh.

For me, one of the best things about working with CEF has been the fact that it has pushed me outside of my "theological comfort zone". I've gotten to know some very wonderful people with some very different views of Scripture than mine. Yesterday after club I ran across this thought in a John Piper book:

In times of peril, a bringer of news is better than great philosophers. Nor does it matter if his accent is good. Or his grammar. Or his looks. If he has good news for beleaguered people, he will be more treasured than ten thousand theologians. Plain people who have heard the news and been saved by it should take heart from this. People need news first. Hard questions can be answered later. We need joyful, breathless news-bringers, not just intelligent news commentators.

As Piper says: "Christianity is news before it is theology". He goes on to remind us that, of course, we need both: the good news of the gospel, and the theology which explains that good news and applies it to our lives. But, oh, let's not forget that the good news came first! I don't remember the first time I heard the gospel, but I do remember the first time I comprehended it as good news for me. It was a glorious moment.

God continues to humble me and to remind me that it's not about the fitness of the message-bearer (whether that be me or another), but instead, it's all about the message - His message - of good news.

Good News Club

Good News Clubs are wrapping up around the Little Rock area and I am enjoying my visits to each one. I am genuinely in love with the workers from each church that make these clubs possible. They are a delight and on each visit I enjoy getting to know them just a little bit better. Relationships can be messy, but I don't think there is anything better than getting good and entangled in someone else's life, and struggling forward together. We need to do this in the Body of Christ, especially in the Body of Christ.

Anyway, yesterday I visit two clubs located in the heart of the city. The first club had grown from five kids in the first six week session to thirty kids in the second. One of the girls who attended the first session ran over to me and gave me a hug. "I thought you had forgotten about us!", she exclaimed. I explained to her that I was helping other boys and girls at other schools learn about Jesus. This seemed to satisfy her and she ran back to join the group.

In this club I rotated between two groups of children - the rowdy little ones and the rambunctious older ones - and observed them learning Bible verses, participating in an object lesson about sin, writing down prayer requests for the "God Can", constructing a craft, and hearing about Satan's fall, not to mention singing, loudly, "God loves me, I know He does...", complete with clapping, stomping, and chest thumps.

Near the end of club, one of the leaders ran over to her co-leader and whispered something furtively in her ear. The co-leader's face broke into a wide smile. I later learned that they were discussing two little girls from this past summer's outreach who had heard the gospel at a 5-Day Club and since then had been coming to church regularly. The leader had learned at church the previous day that the two little girls plan on being baptized very soon. And there was much rejoicing.

It is wonderful to work with people who have such a burden to reach others with the gospel. Sometimes it feels like we're not getting anywhere, but then I am reminded how God can use little things, even years later, to bring someone to Himself. I continue to hear testimony of people who first heard the gospel and believed at a Good News Club. Children are such complicated little creatures. Who knows how God will choose to work in their lives?

These visits renew my vision and encourage me to just keep going. Ministry can be such a guessing game at times. There's not a set formula for ministry "success", and anyway, the definition of success is sketchy at best when it comes to ministry. Faithful obedience is what counts, and that is hard. I often forget that while I'm here in my little office answering e-mail, returning phone calls, planning training sessions, and praying, that lives are being changed.

It's good to be reminded every once in awhile.

Lies

God is teaching me many lessons here in Little Rock. Lately, He's been teaching me a lesson I didn't know I needed to learn.

The lesson is about how I view myself. This past week I've realized that I don't often view myself through God's eyes, that is rightly, but instead I view myself through my dad's eyes.

My biological dad died when I was five. My mom remarried when I was seven and her husband adopted me and my brother and sister when I was nine. He was really the only dad I ever knew.

The way he viewed me was as a burden. As too loud, too blunt, too truthful. I soon learned to keep out of his way. I never felt accepted by him. As I entered my teenage years, our relationship remained tumultuous. But I never wanted to be a victim, and when I was nineteen God granted me the grace to forgive him. I mean, really forgive him.

However, lately I've realized that there is still some hurt there, wounds that God needs to heal. I don't really want to address them. I'd rather ignore them, and go on with my life. I don't want to dwell.

In the past several years, since my mom and dad divorced due to his continued emotional and mental abuse and infidelity, my mom has reminded me about certain ways he abused me. I can't even remember them. Could I really have blocked out so much?

I figured it would be best for those memories to stay buried. I don't want to re-hash the past, but recently they've kept me from experiencing the fullness I have in Christ. I can't accept other people's acceptance of me, as strange as that sounds, because I am quite suspicious of it for one thing, and for another, I don't feel like I could possible deserve it.

Not that I do. Not that I deserve anything, however, I know that in Christ I am accepted, regardless of what I do or don't do. What? That is so strange to me. I've been trying to earn love all of my life.

I think God wants to heal my heart, but it's painful to face the lies I've been believing for so many years. And yet, I'm asking that God heals my heart and continues to replace all those lies with His truth about who I am in Christ: accepted, loved, forgiven, welcomed. I want to be able to give and (more difficult for me) accept love.

Isn't it funny how easily we believe lies about God, and consequently, ourselves? What lies are you believing? And how does what God has done in Christ Jesus combat those lies? How does the gospel make a difference in your life?

Mallow Bites, or the Downfall of Western Civilization

I picked these up at Wal-Mart today. They were a dollar. I was jonesing for some chocolate and, as we all know, nothing is better than chocolate and marshmallows. As I was munching on them, I turned the package around to check out the nutrition facts and spotted this warning outlined in red:

Eat one at a time.
For children under 6,
cut marshmallows into bite-sized pieces.
Children should always be seated
& supervised while eating.

I'm sorry, but I don't need someone to tell me how to eat my tasty marshmallow treats. Eat one at a time? Fail. Furthermore, aren't marshmallows bite-sized already? Are you really going to tell me that I need to cut up miniature marshmallows for my five year old?

Now, I realize that Kraft, the maker of this delightful snack, doesn't want to be held legally liable for some person shoving their mouth full of marshmallows and then choking to death, but please. I don't know what's worse: living in a world where people exercise no common sense whatsoever, or living in a world were people are so shameless that they would sue a company for their own stupidity. Either way, I am sadden.

And I totally ate more than one at a time. Sorry, Kraft.

Decisions

Decision, decisions. Why are they so hard to make?

Today I was blessed with another phone call from a dear friend helping me to think through the big decision that lays before me. I confessed to her just how much fear I feel in completely relinquishing the direction of my life to God. I am just so afraid that what He has for me will not be enough.

How awful does that sound? I am holding onto my life because I mistakenly assume it will safer in my own hands, than in His. Of course, the truth that God's way is perfect is a lot easier to acknowledge when it's on the pages of Scripture, than when it comes bursting into my personal life, demanding it's rights, demanding that I bow to it's truth.

But God does have rights over me. I have been bought with a price; I am not my own. I could sing of Your love forever...until it asks me to count the cost. Yesterday as I was talking with Joanna, we had almost decided that I could do whatever I wanted, until I remembered and quoted the verse: "If you love mother or father more than Me, you are not worthy of Me." All Joanna could say was "dang it!" Dang it, indeed.

I came across this quotation in a book by Amy Carmichael while thinking and praying over this decision. For me I think it pretty much comes down to this:

"If we refuse to be corns of wheat falling into the ground and dying; if we will neither sacrifice prospects, nor risk character, and property and health, nor, when we are called, relinquish home and break family ties, for Christ's sake and His gospel, then we shall abide alone...of all the plans for securing success the most certain is Christ's own, becoming a corn of wheat, falling into the ground and dying." - Thomas Gejaten Ragland

This quote hits me so hard because I am dazzled by success. It is definitely an idol in my life. I want to be successful, but more importantly, I want to be thought successful. This present course than I am on, as far as I can see, affords me none of the success that I so ardently crave. But why do I crave this worldly success? Is it an attempt to earn acceptance? I think so. And I am dismayed by this truth. If only it were easier to grasp the fact that I am accepted in Christ, and His acceptance is all that truly matters.

Honestly, I don't know why I'm sharing all of this. Hopefully, it will help someone else think about counting the cost of obedience. Or give them hope that they aren't the only ones who struggle with surrender. Because, quite frankly, I'm reading through missionary biographies, and they all seem to be running toward the field. But what if you're sort of plodding toward the field, hoping God may change His mind? Is that okay, too? I don't know, but I don't want to be a Jonah. I think I sort of wrestled with this when the call first came to come to Arkansas, only then, it was for a year, whereas now, who knows? This is a much bigger reality to me. A year of my life? Okay. The rest of my life? Can I get back to you on that?

But it's not, of course, only a matter of the mission field. It's a matter of my whole life. Am I willing to surrender my whole life my whole lifelong to God's plans for me? Scary. Very, very scary.

I don't know what God is teaching me through all this, but I do know that He has shown me some places in my life where I need to repent of my pride and bad attitudes and come to a renewed trust in His sovereignty AND a humility which trustingly accepts that His ways are better than mine. Perhaps through all of this, He will work in my heart a renewed vigor for the mission field that used to be there when I was nine (also, I sort of want to go back in time to the nine year old me and say "hey, knock it off, kid!") and eighteen (again, I would say "stop. Stop being so starry-eyed!) but I sort of feel that, just as in salvation, some calls are irrevocable...and I just need to come to terms with it.

Oh, dear. If only there was some sort of formula for decision-making, but there's not. I'm trusting God to show me the way. I appreciate your prayers and your comments. And also those people who I can dump all of my hardest questions on and say "well, what do you make of that?". It's amazing to experience God's faithfulness and love through the love and faithfulness of others.

Decisions!

Conviction

I just got off the phone with my best friend.

Here's how our relationship works: I have some sort of crisis. I call her and pour out my heart (usually this takes no less than an hour). She listens, interjecting only an occasional "mm, hm", while I scream, cry, or moan. After I finish pouring out my heart, we have some brief discussion of the matter, but mostly I've already talked through all of the issues, and can plainly see what I should do.

I'm sure glad God gave me Joanna, because she is a lot cheaper than therapy, and just as effective.

Seriously though, I've been wrestling through some issues, and have been hesitant to discuss them with her. I've talked about them briefly with her sister, I've talked about them in-depth with her mom (my spiritual mom), I've told the ladies in my church about them, but until I broke down and discussed it with her, I really hadn't gotten to the heart of the issues.

As I talked with her though, all the terrible motives, bad attitudes, and depravity just came pouring out of me. Who knew I had that much sin lurking in my heart (and there it is again - pride!)? God has been working on me this week, working on me hard, and today was the icing on the cake. But here's the deal: conviction is good.

It wasn't until recently that I began to really rejoice in the conviction of the Holy Spirit. It wasn't until recently, that I really began to understand what an extreme act of mercy -- of kindness -- conviction really is. If God is convicting you of your sins, don't fight it, He is keeping you from destruction! A chance to turn and repent? Yes, please.

It feels good to get things off my chest. It helps me to see where I really, what the real issues are, but more than that, it helps me to see how much I need a Savior. I need God to incline my heart to keep His Word. We sang a song in church today with a few lines that always get me:

"I would but can't repent,
Though I endeavor oft;
This stony heart can ne'er relent,
Till Jesus makes it soft.

I would but cannot love,
Though wooed by love divine;
No arguments have power to move
A soul as base as mine."

I can only stand and ask that God would grant to me what He commands of me. I know that I have no power of my own to obey, so I must pray not only for the inclination, but the power. Lord, help me to will against my will. I see what You have commanded, and I in no way am able, help my inability, help my unbelief.

And in His graciousness, faithfulness, and mercy, He continues to condescend to me. Wow, amazing love.

If

I'm having a Jonah day.

Have you ever had one of those? A day that is characterized by setting yourself up against the purposes of the Almighty? A day of running? A day of teeth grinding and whining and the breaking down of long-held biases?

Oh, but now I must make a confession: I'm not having a Jonah day, I'm having a Jonah year. And looking back, not only a Jonah year, but a Jonah decade. My greatest fear is that God would call me to be a missionary. Me, lover of missionaries since I was a little girl, fear to be counted among their ranks.

There is something so humbling about the mission field, and I am not a humble person. Please Lord, anywhere but here. Anything but that. I remember the day a few years ago when, in the midst of praying about the future, I felt with terrifying certainty that God was not going to answer my prayers in the way I expected Him to. In fact, I had the incredibly overwhelming sense that God was calling me back to the mission field.

Run Jonah, run.

Now, it's decision time again. I thought we had an agreement. This year of service in exchange for the rest of my life to pursue my own dreams. Let me get back to my plans just as soon as I can, don't bother me with Your designs. Mine, mine, mine. Only He commands, and it is resounding, "No. Mine."

I don't understand.

IF when an answer I did not expect
comes to a prayer I believe I truly meant,
I shrink back from it;
if the burden my Lord asks me to bear
be not the burden of my heart's choice,
and I fret inwardly and do not welcome His will,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.
~ Amy Carmichael

Eight Months

I know that more often than not this blog has been a place for me to blow off steam, moan about the hard things, or throw out my questions regarding the past, present, and future. But today, today, I have some glorious news. News that has taken me eight months, eight freaking months, to announce: two of our partner churches are finally coming together for ministry!

Big deal, you say. Oh, if only you knew the blood, sweat, and tears that have gone into pulling this off, you'd understand how truly fantastic this news is. Delays on their end, my end, everybody's end, nearly succeeded in keeping me in the very pit of despair regarding this partnership. But praise be to God who orders all things according to His glorious counsel, finally, finally, we'll all be coming together for training and ministry.

Do you hear it? It's the angels singing. No, don't say I'm blowing it out of proportion, because when you've been waiting eight months (eight freaking months) for something which seemed at the time so very easy to orchestrate, and which looked as if it might never take place -- in other words, something truly impossible -- this is nothing short of a miracle. In fact, I think it might be. And I wanted to record it because I think it just might be a harbinger of things to come.