The Case for Corporate Worship — Sojourners Magazine

As you might imagine, as a pastor I am passionate about the church and all things related to the church.  The author of this article is right:  people are fleeing from the local church, and often for good reason.  House churches are becoming more popular, and in some cases that is a good thing.  However, I believe that there is no substitute for corporate worship as a larger body, where we meet together to hear teaching from Scripture, celebrate the Lord’s Supper, offer our prayers, and fellowship together.  The Rev. Kenneth Tanner makes a good case, I think, for the importance of the church in this article.  There’s an excerpt below, but I recommend reading the whole thing:

Yes, we need Bible studies, small groups, and intimate settings for growth in Christ. Wonderful things happen when folks committed to each other in a wider context get to “be real” in their spiritual walk. There’s learning, accountability, and participation in spiritual practices that better occurs when a few families or a segment of the local church or an otherwise unaffiliated group of Christians gather to pursue some facet of Jesus and discipleship in him. Whenever two or three are gathered in his name, he is in our midst.

But private gatherings where only our close associates or friends gather cannot replace corporate, participatory, open-invitation worship, cannot replace the work of the local church, without unintended consequences.

So why should every Christian commit to the local church no matter where they meet for weekly worship? Because, when it works the way it was designed, there is nothing more beautiful on earth, for we become the presence of the resurrected Jesus when we gather around four practices, in these we become the body of Christ.

When the apostles gathered publicly with the first Christians, they did four things: they heard the apostles teaching (from the apostles or their appointed surrogates), broke bread (Communion), prayed, and engaged in self-sacrificial fellowship. All of this active, every-member participation was focused on the personal presence of the resurrected Jesus Christ, present in their midst to reconcile, heal, deliver, forgive and renew.

When we seek authentic connection to Jesus Christ today, whether in a church building, high school, storefront, or house, wherever we seek him together, we should expect to find him in these four practices. We should not expect to encounter him regularly in their absence. When any of these four are missing, the church is not gathered.

Via Sojourners — God’s Politics

Her.meneutics: My Perfect Life with Anorexia

This is probably the best article on anorexia in young Christian (over-achieving) women I’ve read.  Someday, I’ll be ready to write about my own experience with disordered eating that began in an undergraduate Christian college… but for now, please read the article.  Here’s an excerpt (don’t worry, it has a happy and true ending):

For many months, I did not see my eating disorder as an issue that I needed to face. Although I was aware that restricting food was not normal, I was also proud that I did not have to eat—so much! so often!—like everyone else did. For perfectionists, Anorexia seems to offer us something we fail to achieve through academics: the chance to prove that we are worth loving. But as we seek to control food, food begins to control us, and we lose sight of God’s truth about our identities. In my struggle to earn love, I lost my grip on my spiritual identity, sinking into a universe of food rules, depression, and shame.

via Her.meneutics: My Perfect Life with Anorexia.

Back from Rwanda

As some of you know, part of the reason I’ve been AWOL recently is because I was traveling — I spent about a week in Rwanda with my pastor and his wife. Our church is linked with the church in Rwanda, so we went to strengthen the existing relationships, build new relationships, preach, do some training, etc. It was a wonderful, wonderful trip! If you want to read a bit more about our time there, visit our church’s Rwanda blog at redeeemernorthshore.org/rwanda.

I have had a hard time verbalizing why the trip was such a refreshing, energizing time for me — as well as answering the question, “what did you take away from your trip?” So here’s my best attempt to verbalize what I brought home with me — some serious, some not — from Rwanda.

It is amazing how much and what variety of things people can carry on their heads!   I was mesmerized by all the people walking along the roadside, gathered in public spaces or at markets, transporting goods from one place to another. The streets here seem empty by comparison (if you don’t count cars).

It is also amazing how easy it is to forget how much you have been given — how very grateful each of us ought to be for the resources we have at our disposal.  One of the biggest needs for the church in Rwanda is for pastors to receive theological education – or even education beyond elementary school.  And here we are in Deerfield, IL, right next to a seminary and right down the road from several other seminaries.  We really know SO MUCH!  And what we don’t know, we can easily find out by picking up a commentary.  You can’t do that if you only read Kinyarwandan.  There is a Kinyarwandan translation of a Study Bible that was just published, but it is too expensive for the average Rwandan pastor to purchase.  It costs about $10.00 — small price to pay for us, but a big price in Rwanda.

Preschool Children in Ruhengeri

Our pastor’s wife is a professor at a prominent college near Chicago, and she did some training for preschool teachers in the Shyira Diocese.  She had purchased some markers to give to the teachers, one for each of them — and she said they treated those markers like they were bricks of gold.  Think of THAT next time you have a complaint about your child’s school!  We here don’t know how rich we are, each one of us.

Note the poster in the background — refers to a program that guarantees each child gets one egg per day. Out of almost 200 preschool, only a handful have the resources to put this program into place.

Not that poverty is something to be revered — there was a night and day difference between the children we met that had the privilege of attending a church preschool and those we saw running around on their own in the streets.  But think of how much more we could do with the resources we’ve been given instead of spending iton entertainment and superfluous things for ourselves…

 

 

 

I love the people I met — names became faces, faces became personalities.  When, God willing, I go back, I will know some people who also know me.  I will have a foundation to build on.  I have sat with my fellow clergy from the Shyira Diocese and been encouraged by them, offering some encouragement in return.  I have had the privilege of hearing the stories of their calls to pastor. I have preached at our sister church in Musanze and brought greetings to the children from the people who helped get Sonrise started.  I am not just a name to them, and they are not just names to me — we are partners and family.

Clergy from the Shyira Diocese, Rwanda

When someone is going on a church-sponsored trip like this, the temptation is to ask, “What are you going to do?”  The more I think about it, the more I think this is the wrong question to ask, at least with trips such as the ones our church has sponsored so far.  Instead, ask the question “With whom are you going to be?”  Projects have their place, but people are more important than projects.  Build the relationships first, and the work will become clear.

I’m so grateful for the time I got to spend in Rwanda with friends old and new.  Thanks to those of you who donated so that I could go and who prayed for me along the way.  Here’s one last parting shot:  some a capella singing (worship) that was part of the preschool teacher training.

Another quote from Ruthless Trust – I’ve posted part of this quote already, but today the sentences after the part I quoted particularly hit me, so here goes:

The heart converted from mistrust to trust in the irreversible forgiveness of Jesus Christ is redeemed from the corrosive power of fear. The existential dread that salvation is reserved solely for the proper and pious, the nameless fear that we are predestined to backslide, the brooding pessimism that the good news of God’s love is simply wishful thinking–all these combine to weave a thin membrane of distrust that keeps us in a chronic state of anxiety.

The decisive … conversion from mistrust to trust–a conversion that must be renewed daily–is the moment of sovereign deliverance from the warehouse of worry. ~Manning, 7~

The phrase, “the nameless fear that we are predestined to backslide,” particularly resonated with me today. I often experience that undercurrent of fear, hear whispers that say “I’m not following God well enough,” “I’m not doing enough to cultivate my relationship with Him,” “I used to be more faithful and more spiritual,” “God is going to give up on me if I don’t start working harder”… Those terrifying whispers haunt many of us, I suspect, creeping into the depths of our souls and instilling a chill where once there was warmth.

But these whispers are not the whispers of the Holy Spirit. God does not desire His children to live in constant anxiety that they will be cast out of His kingdom, un-adopted former heirs. When I think I am mistrusting myself, saying, “I’m not able to do this spiritual thing! I’m going to fail!” I am actually mistrusting the Lord, implying that my ability to go wrong trumps His ability “to keep [me] from stumbling and to present [me] before his glorious presence blameless and with great joy” (Jude 24).

It’s a long road, this way of trust… but well worth the journey.

Bearing Witness to the Good Shepherd

God is good. He is the Shepherd, the one who provides good things for His sheep over and above what they even imagine. Yes, we know this is true. But like any deep truth, it’s easy to doubt God’s goodness and care when He “feels” far away, or when our circumstances leave us desperate and needy and it seems like no one can help us. So often in this past year when I’ve been in that place of desperate need, I’ve known that God IS able to help, rescue, and provide, but it has seemed like He just… doesn’t. Like He was just watching me thrash but not intervening.

In those moments, sometimes I would get angry at Him. “Why aren’t you helping me?! I know I’m not able to help myself, but it feels like I have to just keep trying to pull myself up out of this pit, because You obviously are just going to keep watching me, motionless, and I can’t just lay here waiting for You to act.” In those moments, the tension between what I knew in my head about God (His goodness, His power, His provision) seemed to directly conflict with my experience of helplessness, of powerlessness, of desperation, of unmet need.

But my frustration and doubt dissolved into wonder and gratitude when God answered my deepest prayers more abundantly than I even dared to believe was possible. Specifically, I had been praying to be able to stay in ministry at my church. Now that I’ve graduated from seminary, student loan payments loom in the near future, and a part-time music minister can’t quite survive on the North Shore without finding another job. I longed to be full-time at my church, but it seemed impossible – these are difficult times for everyone, and we are a small congregation.

But God was working behind the scenes, even when it seemed like He was motionless. A couple good friends stepped in to be advocates for me in a time when I could not be an advocate for myself. Thanks to them, the leaders of my church found the money and the need for a new position, a position basically tailor-made for me. A full-time position that allows me to stay where I feel called and actually DO what I long to do and what I’ve been preparing for in seminary for four years. I never thought it possible, but I am now the Pastor for Worship and Congregational Care at my church. It still feels like a miracle!

I am so, so, grateful – for the friends that stood up for me, for the church that has affirmed me, but most of all for God’s lavish provision for me. When I first found out about my new position, I had this incredible sense of how ungrateful I have been in these last few months, of the extent of my lack of faith. I felt like God was probably sitting in heaven, shaking his head in gentle amusement and saying, “See? What were you so worried about? Didn’t you know I’d take care of You?”

I wish I could say that receiving this provision has finally cured my lack of faith, but it hasn’t. I still get frustrated with God, but now I get frustrated with Him over some of my own friends who are still in the “desert.” I long to see them restored, and I don’t understand why God seems to work so slowly.

But He does work. He works in His own time, but He works powerfully and lavishly. He IS the God who restores, and for His children the experience of the wilderness is never wasted. I don’t always understand His timing, but I am slowly learning to trust that He knows what is best. And He is always good.

I don’t deserve the richness of this new blessing – and perhaps that’s why receiving this grace makes me so, so grateful.

Till All Our Strivings Cease: Reflections on a Four-Year Journey

Note: What follows is an article I wrote for the most recent student newspaper at TEDS, the “Graduate Scrawl.”

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“O Lord God, I am not worthy to be here. I fear to fail you, to go through this program without deepening in you. Forgive me for my lack of faith, Lord. May my efforts here show forth Your glory.”

With the words of this prayer, scribbled on a notecard during Orientation, I began my master’s degree at Trinity. Fearing failure. Fearing weakness. Longing to please God but fearful my own inadequacies would keep me from being “good enough.” Four years later, as I reflect back on my time at TEDS I can’t help but think of a well-worn vignette from C. S. Lewis’s Prince Caspian, when Aslan takes Eustace and strips off the dragon skin, transforming Eustace from a selfish, petty boy to a mature young man. I suspect I know exactly how Eustace felt–God has used the past four years to strip away some of the toughest layers of my own dragon skin so that I can minister as the person He made me to be.

Stripping the Outermost Layer: From “T” to “F”

One of the thickest layers the Lord has stripped away during my time at TEDS was my pride in my intellect. When I entered seminary, I saw myself primarily as a walking mind; I valued intellectual ability and rational thinking above all else. Imagine my horror when I took the Keirsey Temperament Sorter in “Personal Assessment” and discovered that I am a “Feeler,” not a “Thinker”! I took the test over and over, trying my hardest to be a “T” while still answering honestly. After all, I was destined to become one of the great academicians, dazzling the world with my theological treatises, NOT one of those “touchy-feely” counselor-types.

It wasn’t until my third year in seminary that I began to embrace being an “F”. By God’s grace, that year I enjoyed community and friendship as never before; for the first time in my life I found myself spending as much time with people as with my books. To my astonishment, I discovered that I actually love being with people, talking with people, listening to people, caring for people, even counseling people. In other words, I found I had a heart for ministry, not just a mind for theology.

Destroying the Deadliest Layer: From Striving to Resting

During my first two years at seminary, I worked over twenty hours a week, carried a full class load, participated on music teams in chapel and at church, ran four miles multiple times a week, helped to lead a student group, and slept an average of six hours a night. I was miserable, but I felt I couldn’t afford to spend time resting.

I resisted rest, fearing that if I stopped, I would fail – fail to earn As, to earn enough money, to earn approval from friends and professors, to keep in shape, … to please God. As hard as I worked, I was haunted by a deep, deep sense that I was never good enough and could never measure up to God’s standard for me. I knew in my head that my relationship with God relies more on His faithfulness than mine, but I was so fearful of spiritual complacency that I could not rest in His grace. I appended a string of “ifs” to “My grace is sufficient for you.”

But my frantic pace could not continue forever, and eventually my body rebelled. I was forced to rest and thus to face what I feared most: the silence of inactivity, where striving must cease. In that terrible silence, I have begun to learn the most basic and the most difficult lesson of all: grace. Following God is not a matter of doing or working hard but of continual surrender, learning to be dependent on Him and transformed by Him – being willing to submit as He strips the dragon-layers away.

Leaving the Layers Behind

As I prepare to graduate, less of a dragon than when I arrived, I am equal parts excited and scared. This “ministry” thing is still new to me – four years ago, I was merely a mind who eventually wanted to teach. I’m still getting used to the “new me,” the one who loves church work and treasures the deep privilege of rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep, the one who ministers not just in what she does but out of who she is. I still doubt my own abilities to “make it” in ministry, but I know that God has called me. And I am beginning to suspect that His strength just might actually be made perfect in my weakness.

Fragments of the day

Reading the past in an old worn journal,
I wonder at the thoughts I see expressed–
mine, yet not mine,
far off, yet resonant–
and I trace the patterns
through many days of grief,
recurring questions,
tear stains,
exclamations
of joy and frustration–
the patterns of my life–
weakness interwoven
with truth–

and You are there
for You were there–
in the dullness
in the ache
in the joy
in the beauty–
You were there
in those strange words
in a familiar handwriting–
You were there
in those dry tears of desperation
and knotted angst–

You were there with me
when I felt no presence
of You–
your truth
your love
your passion
your grace
your peace
your goodness
your justice
your blessings
your Word–
You were there
loving me.

And for that–
I praise thee.

Looking back…

Most of you will probably NOT be surprised when I say that I am a self-reflective person. I’m one of those people who keep old journals and occasionally go back and read them. Sometimes, I find it hard to fall asleep until I get my thoughts down on paper. So imagine my delight when, while putting some old notebooks in boxes (let’s hear it for a mid-semester move), I found my folder from a class I took my first year at seminary: “Personal Assessment and Introduction to Ministry.” Now I realize that all you TEDS people probably just gave a big groan… but I actually enjoyed that class! This morning, I’ve been looking through my thoughts about myself and about ministry – written three years ago. It’s pretty fascinating to see where God has brought me, three years later.

As part of my “Life-Line” project, which basically involved writing a spiritual autobiography, I wrote the following prayer in response to what I saw as I looked back at God’s work in my life.

Lord God, Father Almighty, how often I have cried out to you! I look back at myself and I see desperation, I hear weeping. Yet I look back at you and I see faithfulness, I hear comfort. For before I could cry out, You knew me. Before I knew how prideful I was, You prepared humility for me. Before I knew how little I knew You, You knew me better than I will ever know myself, and You loved me. When my whole life was dedicated to serving myself, You were preparing me for service. When I struggled against Your plans for my life, You were persistent in pulling me in the right direction. And in spite of myself–in spite of my pride, my ambition, my independence, my snobbery–You saved me, You granted me faith, You breathed new life into me by Your Word and Spirit, and You transformed my life. I praise You, Lord!

Holy Trinity, I am unworthy. And even my self-doubt is lack of faith: I fear that You are not enough to cover my inadequacy. Yet You have taught me that You alone are enough! You alone save me by Your grace! You alone have raised me up and given me a calling as a precious gift! You have guided my every step! You created me with a unique personality and passion, and You chose to create me this way. When I hate who I am (Kyrie eleison!), You show me Your love and remind me that I am who I am for a reason… and You are shaping who I am to conform to the image You designed me to reflect: the image of You Son. I praise You, Lord!

Growth Pains

All the thoughtful people I know tend to generate their brilliant thoughts under different conditions. For some, the shower is the place of epiphanies. For others, perhaps the library (although I’m not convinced). As for me, I tend to have major revelations while on walks or jogs. Somehow the combination of activity, music, and solitude just plain helps me think – and I highly recommend it!

Well on my walk today, I was visited by a metaphor, a metaphor that captures what I have been experiencing this summer: emotional chemotherapy. Sometimes our own “junk” surfaces in such a way that we see just how sick we have been. For me, this summer has proven to be a time of recognizing some things about myself that need to change in order for me to be healthy. Now the fixing of these things, the “treatment” has been pretty painful at times… at least within my own microcosm… and hence the chemotherapy metaphor. Sometimes becoming healthy requires a heck of a lot of pain or even just discomfort – but it is worlds better than embracing the cancer and feeling it strangle your body. Pain of personal growth, of old unhealthy things dying – now that’s a pain that’s worthwhile!

I am hoping that this round of treatments is almost over for me. But if this particular cancer remains hidden somewhere still in me, I will take my medicine with hope.

Thomas Merton’s Prayer

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

From Thomas Merton, “Thoughts in Solitude,” heard during sermon this morning, found online here.