Shadows

This week I read a chapter from Charles Spurgeon's The Gospel of the Kingdom. It's a commentary on The Gospel of Matthew. He was recounting the moment when Mary and Joseph were informed of their surprise calling. They were going to parent the Savior of the World. It was mixed bag. On one hand, you always win in the kid-comparison-game. "Oh your kid made the honor roll? My kid walked on water." On the other hand, you had to explain the whole I'm-having-a-baby-but-I'm-still-a-virgin thing. 

Spurgeon wrote this about that moment, "Every great favour brings a great trial with it as its shadow, and becomes thus a new test of faith." That struck me as profound. Joseph had the honor of protecting and providing for the Messiah but he was also tested in his faith. Did he trust Mary? Did he trust God? Mary gave birth to the Hope of the World but she was also tested in her faith. Moms usually experience an onslaught of insecurity in the early days of their newborn's life. Imagine the pressure of not messing up the Anointed One's childhood!

In my life, I'm a fan of pure favor (or "favour" if your British) without the side of trial. I want that for myself, my family, and the people I know. Can we have fun without the problems? Is that too much to ask? Then I read James 1:2-4, "Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing." (emphasis mine)

Those three words hit me like a ton of bricks, "let it grow." In other words, don't short circuit the process. Allow the trial to produce endurance, don't try to fix it ASAP. Don't assume that because it's hard it's bad. As a "fixer" this seems crazy. Yet I know I've grown the most through challenging times. Here's to becoming a people that let endurance grow.

Ruby Tuesdays and the Future

High school guys don't love salad bars. At least that was true about me in high school. I don't know if that is still true. Birkenstocks are back in style so I suppose anything is possible. Regardless, it was in the shadow of a salad bar that my life changed.

I remember it like it was yesterday even though fourteen years have passed. My youth minister, Scott, took me out to lunch as a senior in high school. He took me to a Ruby Tuesdays in Lexington. It was at the bottom of a bookstore. There was a fountain. We sat at a high-top table. He had a yellow legal pad with some notes. There are a hundred other details I could include but it'd be boring. 

The reason I remember all these things is not because of a weird affection for salad. The reason this is burned into my memory is because of what Scott said to me at that lunch. He asked me what I thought about his new strategy for the student ministry. I think it was the first time an adult had sincerely asked my opinion about...well, anything. It was like Scott sincerely wanted to know what I thought because he respected my insight. That's a game changer for a young person.

Then he started telling me what he saw in me. He said he thought I would be a "#1" some day. He meant that I was destined to be the point leader of something big. Up until that point I thought I might get involved in youth ministry. I thought it'd be cool to take students on trips and preach to them weekly. Scott elevated my vision. He called out something in me I didn't see in myself. I needed that.

Many of us need others to call out our gifts, strengths, and potential. We take humility too far and deprecate ourselves into mediocrity. We need someone to look us in the eyes and call us to something more. I'll never forget that lunch. It was the moment what God unlocked a future of leadership that may have gone unfulfilled.

As the recipient of such a vision cast, I feel called to raise others' visions. It's truly an honor to look someone in the eyes and tell them that God has more in store for them than they could ever imagine. They have gifts beyond their current understanding. Their story will be bigger, scarier, and far more fulfilling than they could ever imagine. It takes me back to a salad bar fourteen years ago; a moment I'll never forget.

Fight

True Confession: I'm 32 and I've never been in a fight. I was sucker punched during a rundown during a 14-year-old baseball game. That's about it. 

As I've grown and experienced more of life, I've found myself in more conflict. Sometimes the conflict is personal. Other times it's about the way we ought to do things at church, in our family, or in our country. When you're working with people conflict is inevitable.

This week I read what Paul wrote to Timothy, "...here are my instructions for you, based on the prophetic words spoken about you earlier. May they help you fight well in the Lord's battles." (1 Timothy 1:18, NLT) Those last three words struck me: the Lord's battles.

According to Paul we're in a fight. This isn't a passive faith. But Paul also delineates between two kinds of battles. There are battles that are God's and battles that are our own. The last kind aren't worth fighting. I was left to ask myself, "Whose battles am I fighting?" When I find myself in conflict, who is this really about?

God fights battles to keep families whole. He fights for those that are far from him. He fights for the down-and-out, beat-up, and discarded. God fights to redeem the city and culture. He fights to be known and represented well. Those are the battles of God.

Unfortunately, upon further review, I found in my life some battles that didn't meet those qualifications. They mostly revolve around my personal preference. "Why do they do things like that?" "Why wouldn't you agree with me about everything?" "Why do you have feelings when all I see are facts?" 

The Gospel is worth fighting for and I'm often distracted by personal beefs of temporary value. Here's to a wake up call from 1 Timothy. Let's fight well the battles of the Lord that have eternal value.

Waiting

Thursday we had our first gathering at the Downtown Campus. It was a moment. It was one of those days that was just different. You could tell something special was happening. A lot of people saw the final result but don't know much about the journey.

Four years ago we started asking the question, "What would it look like to be one church in multiple locations?" That question led to other questions like, "Where?" Many of us behind closed doors started dreaming about going downtown.

Then, there was this building. 1201 N. Delaware. It had this big "For Sale" sign just screaming at us. I was convinced that it was meant to be. So a team of us put together a proposal for the elders as to why this was a can't-miss, do-it-now, what-are-we-waiting-for opportunity. After a pitch like that who could resist? But they said, "not yet." 

It wasn't a flat no. They just said, "Wait." There were a bunch of good reasons. We hadn't launched a second campus, we'd be crossing cultural boundaries, and there were so many commas in the asking price that it was out of our range. Those are really good reasons.

In spite of those good reasons, I left frustrated. I questioned why God would make something so clear to me and not to others. I questioned others' commitment to the mission. Needless to say, I had some growing up to do.

Making a long story shorter: the elders were right. In the last year, we launched an insanely successful campus thanks to the other-worldly volunteers that make North go. Then a TPCC family was called to purchase the downtown building for the church. They took care of the comma problem. God had a way better story in mind.

This last year has been full of hands-on-your-head, shoulder-shrugging, I-can't-explain-that moments. Here's to wise elders that say, "Wait," when it'd be easier to say, "Okay." Here's to God working behind the scenes while we are unaware. Here's to me remembering all this and trusting that God writes better stories.

Comparing Mountaintops

This week I listened to a sermon by Tim Keller called "The Still Small Voice." You can find it here. 

He walked through Elijah's mountain top experience found in 1 Kings 19. Elijah found himself at a place called Mount Horeb. That's its less popular name. Its more popular name is Mount Sinai. There was another prophet that also had a mountaintop experience there a few years before. His name was Moses and that can be found in Exodus 19. 

Keller made a point that hit me: Moses and Elijah had very different experiences on the same mountaintop. Moses got thunder, smoke, and trumpets. He basically got the heavy-metal-concert-version of an encounter with God. Elijah saw the wind, earthquake, and fire but God wasn't in them. Instead, God showed up to Elijah in a still, small voice. God used the big, explosive, and unavoidable with Moses. He used the meek, mild, and calm with Elijah. They were equally significant experiences with God but they looked very different.

In my life and ministry, I've observed a temptation in all of us. We are tempted to replicate the experiences of other people. He had a moment at church when everything was clear. She heard a voice when she was praying that laid it all out for her. Shouldn't I have the same thing? Is there something wrong with me? Am I less connected with God? Instead, is it possible that we're looking for thunder and trumpets when God is using a still, small voice? Both are mountaintops because God is speaking. It's possible God is giving us our own mountaintop but we're waiting to have someone else's.