approachable

This is another post inspired by one of our classes here at Prairie Lakes Church for which I'm writing the curriculum. This class is on loving people. The chosen text is written by one of the most influential professor's I've had, Craig Blomberg. His book that we're using is entitled Contagious Holiness: Jesus' Meals with Sinners. From this book I'm reminded of a story in the Gospels where a prostitute enters a meal Jesus was sharing with his peers--men of stature all--and the woman weeps at Jesus' feet, wiping them with her tears, drying them with her hair.

And it wasn't like Jesus preached this killer sermon or wrote this powerful song or anything. He's just sitting there.

Maybe he had talked with this woman personally at one time. Maybe she had caught something he had said while standing in the crowd. Maybe she watched him deal devastating blow after blow to the religious leaders who had for so long ruled over her with a condemning eye. Maybe she was inspired by his courage as he preached the same message, undeterred by the threats on his life, and followed up his words with his actions seamlessly.

Or maybe she had only heard rumors about this man, and they were enough for the Holy Spirit to crack open her heart to the kindness of a God who was about to sacrifice his Son on her behalf.

And I think:

Am I like Jesus in that way?

So I pray:

God, make me like that. Make me more effective in the lives of those who are living as your enemies than those who claim allegiance to your kingdom. Let the love that I live by inspire repentance in those who have yet to repent. Give me the courage to stand against the attacks of the enemy that come in the form of "religious" conviction. Let me garner my testimony and stake my reputation on the stories from profane lips rather than praise from a sterilized tongue.

Even if it costs me my life.

Even if it costs me my life.

needles and babies

I've been meaning to write about this for sometime now, because it struck me when I heard it. But, the holidays being what they are as a local church employee, I have had to wait for time again to write.

I'm in a small group that's made up of married couples at a similar life stage to Erin and me. And, as it turns out, people in our life stage crank out kids like they're going out of style. So, about every month or so, we cancel small group in lieu of heading to the hospital to welcome a newborn into the world. It's pretty great.

One newborn in our group has been around now for about 8 weeks or so. She now is a regular fixture at our group meetings, as her parents bring her along. During one of our final meetings before Christmas, she came in with two bandages on her legs; one on each of her thighs. She had gotten some vaccines earlier in the day.

Of course, her parents told the story of being in the room and having to help hold her down as the nurse gave her the shots. As I was listening I began visualize myself in that situation someday--having to hold my infant to the table as the nurse pokes needles into his or her legs. That stuff doesn't make me uneasy; in fact, I think I would face something like that pretty well. After all, it's just another part of life.

And that struck me. It's a part of life.

Welcome to the world, little infant, where you are completely vulnerable. Welcome to this world, little one, where pain is a reality, woven into the very fabric of life. Welcome to a place where you need to be protected from disease, or you will most certainly die. Welcome to a life where you won't always understand the pain you experience, even when you are an adult.

Welcome to a life where you will always need someone to save you from something.

There are evidences of God everywhere, aren't there? Even in pain.