Category Archives: calling

standing near…

“The Spirit of the Lord told Philip, ‘Go to that chariot and stay near it.’ Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. ‘Do you understand what you are reading!’ Philip asked. ‘How can I,’ he said, ‘unless someone explains it to me?’ So he invited Philip to come up and sit with him.’” 
(Acts 8:28-31). 
I returned to the chemo lounge this week for my bi-monthly port flush. While many of my cancer contemporaries have their ports immediately removed after their chemotherapy has ended, per the urging of my doctor I’ve decided to leave mine in for the next couple of years. The odds for my cancer’s reoccurrence are greater in that time frame, and I certainly don’t want to have to go through the surgical process of re-inserting the port. It was a painful experience for me (think of knives poking themselves into your neck); accordingly, I’ve decided to live with the inconvenience of my port for a while longer. Thus, the need for a bi-monthly return to the cancer center in order to prevent an infection in that area.
The last time I went there, I became physically nauseated when I made that left turn into the hospital parking lot; this time I did a bit better as I made the usual trek to my usual chair and waited for Nurse Angie (Sarah has since moved to Montana and is expecting her first child!) to prep me, poke me, flush me, excuse me—a process taking about ten minutes. This isn’t on par with my previous five hour stays, so there is little time to absorb my surroundings. But with this brief visit, I did notice one thing—one singular reality that struck me afresh and forced my heart to deal with one of the cold, hard truths about cancer.
It’s everywhere.
As I looked around the lounge at the twenty some faces that filled the chairs with their ample suffering, I realized that they were strangers to me—a whole new crop of cancer patients with whom I had no connection. Some asleep. Some dehydrated. Some reading. Some requiring the immediate attention of the nurses. Very few of them engaging with the process. Most of them keeping to themselves. And it made me tearful… made my heart hurt all over again for the reality of cancer and its debilitating effects. I wanted to hug each one of them; sit alongside of them; strike up a conversation, and leave a little bit of Jesus joy with my passing.
But I didn’t; really I couldn’t. I’ve passed the ownership of my chair onto others, and the hospital wouldn’t take kindly to my just “hanging out to be an encourager” especially since, technically speaking, I don’t have authorization to be there. So I left the hospital feeling sad; feeling lost; knowing that my cancer journey has made a huge mark upon my soul but has, also, left me feeling “hung out to dry” as it pertains to the days ahead. I don’t know what to do with it all, how to process its worthiness, how to take the lessons I’ve learned and how to graciously bestow them upon others… those cancer “others” who might benefit from having a “come alongside” kind of Philip at their side—someone who is willing to “step up” and help with the reading of life and truth and Jesus’ role in it all.
While re-reading the above passage of scripture last night (one of my favorites in all of the book of Acts), I was reminded again about the nature of the learning process—about what it is to be a teacher in the classroom of life and what it is to be student. Really, there are two types of learners when it comes to spiritual matters and otherwise.
The first learner is represented by the Ethiopian eunuch—a person longing to learn the truth, yet unable to fully grasp its meaning because of language barriers, historical barriers, familial barriers, religious barriers, traditional barriers. His upbringing hadn’t allowed him the privilege of first-hand knowledge. Thus, when it came to his understanding and the grasping of truth, he began at a deficit. It wasn’t his fault; it simply was his reality. Accordingly, he could have chosen to settle for current understanding—for the “reading” of the story without ever really engaging with its witness. This kind of thinking represents the first type of learner—a learner that never makes his/her way past the print on a page. A learner that chooses ignorance over understanding. A learner that never progresses past the first grade and that is willing to spend a lifetime reciting the ABC’s (a comfortable education) rather than moving onto writing those ABC’s into a meaningful manuscript (a sometimes less comfortable, more laborious and struggling education).
The second type of learner is also represented by the Ethiopian eunuch—a person longing to learn the truth and who is fully willing to accept the teaching of one more knowledgeable, more experienced—a teacher who is willing to come alongside, to step up into the chariot of elementary understanding, to invest personal energies, and to unfold truth in the light of practical, first-hand knowledge and experience. The student-learner who is willing to receive a helping hand as it pertains to furthering his/her education recognizes that, without the help of another, he/she is likely to remain stuck in earlier perceptions that will never really advance personal education. A wise student is willing to share the chariot with a teacher who has previously walked the desert road and who has leaned into his/her own personal learning as it pertains to all of life.
I have been as both learners on my journey through cancer. A student longing for truth but unable to fully interpret it because of never “having been this way before.” I’ve also been a student willing to allow a couple of teachers to join me in the chariot, because I understood that their previous learning would be invaluable to me in my own quest for truth. Like Philip, they have graciously “stayed near my chariot” and, per my request, jumped on board to answer all of my questions and to gently point me forward toward personal application of truth. I am a better learner and survivor because of their generous investments into my understanding. And I am grateful that when they, like me, looked around the “rooms” in their lives and saw a whole new crop of cancer patients, they didn’t shrink back from God’s calling to “stay near my chariot.”
It is my heart’s desire to walk in that same calling, for I have, like them, have walked this desert road. As I look around my “room,” I want to follow God’s promptings toward a chariot or two where I might invest this heart-hurt of mine—a stepping up and into the lives of other cancer patients who need the benefit of my previous education. A few people who might be willing to allow me some personal investment into their personal quest for the truth. It’s not always easy to find them, those who are willing to move past elementary understanding and into the struggling strains of furthering their education. Harder still, is finding someone who is willing to trust my desert heart with the teaching, but I believe that this is what God is calling me to—to stay near the hurting and to gently offer God’s grace, peace, and understanding for the journey ahead.
We’ve all been called to the same… to the “staying near” to a few chariots where we might be used by God to reveal his truth. Not everyone will invite us into their private confusion. Some are content to live within the parameters of their well-recited ABC’s. But every now and again, there will be a few who will bend to their learning, those who want to further the story and who will need the benefit of your previous desert walk.
They are everywhere… a whole new crop of confused and suffering patients in desperate need of our nearness to their pain. How I pray for eyes to see, ears to hear, hearts to listen, and then feet to step up… to stay up until the work of the cross is done. Even so, keep to it friends, and if you’re so inclined, let me know what chariots God is calling you to “stand near” to in this season of living. As always…
Peace for the journey,
~elaine
entrusted {word for 2011}

entrusted {word for 2011}

From my perch on the couch, I watched him trim her nails. Never in her eight years on this earth did I recall him trimming baby girl’s nails. She was caught off-guard as well, looking at me occasionally as if to say, “Daddy isn’t doing this right…” or “What’s with the nail file?” And while I should have been grateful for his willingness to help, instead I was sad. Really sad, and I began to cry.
“I should be doing this, Billy. I always do this for her. You’re doing it wrong. I want to do this.”
He offered his apologies, understanding that there was something greater going on inside of me than just a compulsion for nail clipping. He knew that my mothering heartstrings were pulling hard and that his helpfulness was a direct reflection on just how little energy I have for the small things of life these days. That out of his great love for me, he wanted to spare me the details and allow me room enough to focus on the stuff that really matters. What he doesn’t understand is that nail-clipping really does matter to me; not because I’m an expert. Rarely have I acquiesced to a manicurist’s touch. No, my daughter’s nails matter to me because there are just some jobs that belong to me as her mother. Some things that I’ve always done… still need to do, because in doing them, I feel like I matter. Like I’m needed. Like I belong to something bigger than myself. Like my being here has purpose, even if that purpose seems small to others. Perhaps you understand.
We all need jobs that belong to us… need a focus and a reason to stir our hearts into action each day that we live on this earth. Without our attachments along these lines, we default to couch-livin’ and ample tears. We pass on the duties that are supposed to be ours rather than living out the responsibilities that are within our reaches and tethered closely to our hearts. God made our hearts for good work—for putting our hands to the plow and breaking up the unplowed earth beneath our feet. He understands that faith is best preserved when faith is liberally sown. Thus, he’s given each of us a job.
A similar job. We may travel all manners of terrain to get there, may institute a wide variety of regimens to accomplish our goals, but at the end of the day… at the end of this life, our life’s work really boils down to one, main objective.
To know God and then out of that knowing lead others to know the same. (I wrote about that here).
Accordingly, as I look to the New Year and as I have been reflecting on this one job that God has given me, several scriptures (with one overriding theme) have come into focus to serve as my anchor verses for the year. Read them to discover a common thread:
“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men….” (Matthew 5:14-16a).
“Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:19-20a).
 “So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation… And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.” (2 Corinthians 5:16-20).
“Now I rejoice in what was suffered for you, and I fill up my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church. I have become its servant by the commission God game me to present to you the word of God in its fullness.” (Colossians 2:24-25).
And finally,
“So then, men ought to regard us as servants of Christ and as those entrusted with the secret things of God. Now it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful.” (1 Corinthians 4:1-2).
Entrusted.
My “word” and my focus for 2011; not just with any task, but with the high and holy task of telling others the reason behind the hope that I hold in my heart. A weighty assignment for certain, but one that is required of me because of my status as a daughter of the King. I hold a great Truth inside of me. Sharing about Him isn’t an option for any believer. We think that it sometimes is… that sometimes we get a pass because we didn’t go to seminary and get the professional degree or receive official ordination from a committee. But kingdom work of this kind belongs to all of us. It’s simply time for me to get a bit more serious about it all. Wouldn’t you agree?
As I reflect back to my anchor verses for 2010(1 Cor. 6:19-20), I had no idea at the time of my selecting them just exactly what would be required of me to honor them. My body… a temple of the Holy Spirit? Honoring God with my body because I was bought at a price—the very blood of God’s own Son? Have mercy, I imagine it a good thing I didn’t fully grasp the breadth and depth of what that would mean for me on the front side of 2010. It’s only now, standing on the backside of an almost indescribable year of suffering faith that I’m even able to hold a bit of insight along these lines. I imagine I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make the puzzle pieces fit together neatly, but I am confident that they will… fit. One day… on the backside of my earthly tenure.
Until then, I’m going to be busy with God’s business… with the sacred trust that’s been entrusted to me. No more couch livin’ and ample tears because I’ve handed off the responsibility to someone else. Instead, the clippers are in my hands for the trimming. For the mattering. For the needing. For the belonging to something… Someone bigger than myself. For the only purpose that truly matters on the front side of my living this thing out—
to know God and then out of that knowing, lead others to know the same.
Therefore, I no longer regard anyone from a worldly point of view. I view them from God’s point of view and that, my friends, is a rich perspective from which to anchor a year’s view.
Entrusted. Oh God keep me faithful to the truth I’ve been given. Keep my brothers and sisters as well. As always…
Peace for the journey,
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planning for more… content with less

Last Friday, I loaded up on my pain meds and had my mother taxi me to the local Michael’s craft store. Sunday morning loomed on the horizon, and I needed a few Christmas activities to keep young hearts and hands engaged. I took my time, making sure to pick out things I would like to do, knowing that my enthusiasm as the children’s Sunday school teacher would translate over to them. Over the next twenty-four hours, I read my lesson, made notes, and photocopied the corresponding papers to go along with the day’s activities. I even purchased McDonald’s gift cards for each one of them and stuffed them inside cute little stockings from the Dollar Tree. Sunday’s lesson was well-prepared, thought out, and greatly anticipated by my teacher’s heart. I just knew it would be a hit with everyone.

Sunday arrived, and I suppose it was a hit with the two kids that showed up. My two kids, per usual. Occasionally, another child will trickle into our midst to bolster our numbers, but not yesterday morning. It was just me, my kids, and Preacher Billy (a.k.a. their dad) working on cute crafts, eating delicious snacks, and hearing, once again, the story about the good news given to some unsuspecting shepherds on a night some 2000 years ago. And while my heart hungered for more kids to come and be a part of my plans, I wasn’t surprised by the turnout. I’ve come to expect it since our ministry move here this past June.

We (I say “we” because ministry life is so much more than my husband’s paid position) pastor a small congregation on one of the busiest streets in Fayetteville, NC. Our facility is dated, but it is large and could easily hold 400 people on a Sunday morning. Mostly, we average around 75. We came here in sort of a missional capacity—to revamp and revitalize this church with a fresh witness of God’s Spirit. Over the next few years we’ve been charged with the church’s growing and its re-establishing itself as a self-supporting, vibrant house of worship.

I suppose we thought that growth would be automatic. After all, it was clear to both of us that this was the place of God’s choosing for our next. On the front side of our arrival here, the challenge intrigued us, and we were ramped up for watching our God work a miracle in and through this little church. We’re still waiting for that big miracle—one that says on paper and with numbers that God, through us, has accomplished huge growth for the kingdom. In small ways, we’ve seen some growth. Not so much in numbers, but in the interior work of our collective hearts. We’re getting to know our new people, and they are getting to know us. It takes time to grow a church, and it takes the right motivation—love for God and love for his people.

And we certainly do love… love God and his people. But despite our loving, growth has been minimal. Thus, we wait for the movement of God, realizing that in our own strength, we can do nothing. We hope. We pray. We move forward, planning for a crowd, but being content with less. Sometimes with a less that includes only two kids who look a whole lot like my own. Who’ve heard the story of the shepherds a hundred times over. Two who are used to seeing me as their mom throughout the week and would, more than likely, desire to see someone else take the lead on Sunday mornings. Two who are still willing to humor me when it comes to my teaching style and to “craft” alongside me, even though they would prefer the company of their peers. Two who are stuck with me and their father, regardless of the ministry twists and turns that lie ahead for all of us.

Ministry life is hard at times, especially when it seems all you’ve got is the two. I know many of you attend large churches with tons of programming, a rockin’ band, and a collection plate filled to overflow. Some of your churches have two or three services, a large amount of volunteers to equip your programming, and a plethora of Sunday schools/Bible studies from which to choose. It’s not about if you have anywhere to plug into at your church, but rather, which outlet to choose. I understand. I’ve lived that life previously. But now I’m here, with my husband and with the two and with the few others who come together on Sunday mornings for worship at Christ UMC, and there are times when I wonder about it all. And I hope that it’s enough, that we’re enough. That the simple acts of obedience we follow through with on a daily basis will some day make their marks on our congregation… on our city.

But that’s an “unfolding” for another season. I’ll have to wait for those answers and that revelation, and mostly I’m OK with the waiting because I understand that Rome wasn’t built in a day and that God’s kingdom isn’t built solely through big churches and big programming. Rather, I believe that the kingdom of God is most solidly built one brick at a time. One hug at a time. One prayer at a time. One kind gesture at a time. One dollar at a time. One well-planned Sunday school lesson at a time, if only boasting the audience of the two.

The two serve as the why behind my mid-week planning for Sunday services. They are the reason behind my Friday trips to a craft store. They are the rich soil for the ministry of my heart in this season, and while I might not always feel like I’m enough for them, they are always enough for me. Accordingly, I’ll keep to it, even as I commission you to always do the same. I’ll keep planning for the crowd, expecting the crowd, but never feeling unsatisfied by the two. For with the two, a world can change.

In fact, I think my Sunday morning lesson with my two wasn’t so far off from that Bethlehem lesson for the shepherds all those years ago. We don’t know how many of them showed up at the manger (whether two or four or an entire passel of sheep-tenders), but we do know that they left that moment “spreading the word concerning what had been told them about this child and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.”

Indeed, a small beginning—a tiny gathering of recipients—for the greatest revelation known to mankind. I don’t imagine that God ever wondered if it was enough. Instead, he was content for truth to fall into the hearts of a few, knowing that in seasons to come, truth would expand its witness throughout the ages to include the hearts this generation. Our hearts. Yours and mine. Christ kept to his plan; he keeps to it this day… one brick at a time until the kingdom is fully built. I’m so glad that he didn’t get hung up on numbers back then but that, instead, he got hung up on a tree… for me, for you. His ministry may have been collective in scope but it remains personal in priority and nature to each one of us.

May we always be found willing to follow his lead by reconciling our ministries and our hearts to the one or two who show up for the receiving. In the end, we will probably be surprised by the far-reaching effects of our simple acts of obedience therein. Keep to it, sweet friends, keep planning for God’s more in the midst of your seemingly less. He is faithful to complete that which he began in you. And while you might not always be aware of what your single, simple faith is yielding in others, he is. And for that you will be richly rewarded. Have a blessed walk to Bethlehem this week, and as always…

Peace for the journey,

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on Christian "calling"

“Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” (John 17:3)
 
 
Calling.
 
Yours and mine.
 
You know the word. If you’re immersed in pop-Christian culture, then you’ve heard it before, probably even received some preaching about it from the pulpit. It certainly is the topic of many current best-sellers, Bible studies, devotionals, and self-helps all determined to aid you in your exploration toward discovering what yours is…
 
Your calling.
 
I can hardly abide the word. It makes me bristle each time I hear it used in casual word-toss amongst Christians. Not because I don’t believe in its validity—that, in fact, each one of us has a calling—but rather because of the way its intentional “push” is leaving so many of us feeling diminished. As if, somehow, we’ve missed the mark when it comes to our relationship with Jesus and just exactly what that means for us as it pertains to our doing something for the kingdom in keeping with our conferment.
 
Over and over again, I receive e-mails and comments regarding the issue; words like:
 
I’m afraid I’ll miss my calling.
How do I know what my calling is?
I know that God has called me to something, I’m just not sure what it is.
 
Words like that. And I feel the pain of those who utter such confusion, because I, too, have spoken similar uncertainty in recent years. I’ve spent a lot of time researching the issue, sweating through the issue, praying about the issue, purchasing and working through the issue via some valuable resources, all to arrive at a similar conclusion about the issue of my calling: that, apparently, I’m not there yet. That what I’m doing for Jesus doesn’t match up with what the experts are saying. That according to them, I’ve yet to really take hold of what my calling is because there remains a restlessness within my spirit. That because I don’t have clearly defined goals in place and that because my “passion and pulse” have yet to be fully determined, then I’ve got some more work to do. That if I’ll just keep reading more, practically “applying” more, jumping through spiritual hoops more, then maybe, at the end of it all, I’ll find what I’ve been longing for—God’s more for my life.
 
Oh my good friends, what a dangerous and willing slope we often stand upon when it comes to God’s “calling” upon our lives. What a tragedy to live beneath the weightiness of such burden. We’ve made God’s calling upon our lives a cumbersome yoke around our necks. We’ve made it too hard to understand, too glamorous, too glitzy, too elite to attain. We inadvertently have reserved it as something for those who are seemingly more seasoned in their walks with God—those who hold the market on righteousness and faithful living—all because we have decided that our spiritual temperature isn’t yet hot enough to warrant kingdom effectiveness.
 
Instead of feeling relieved after our careful examination of the Christian “calling,” we often conclude such contemplations feeling diminished. Less than. Under used and as having “missed the mark” when it comes to our Father’s plans for our lives. We dangerously compare ourselves to others, wondering that if somehow we could be more like them, then surely, we’d have some peace regarding the issue. But the truth is, the more closely we examine our lives in relationship to others, the more willing we become to concede our limitations and minimize our worthiness.
 
And then there we are… stuck in confusion, pained by our ponderings, and begging the Lord for clarity regarding our callings.
 
And then there, too, is God… stuck in our confusion, pained by our ponderings, and longing to bring clarity regarding our callings, because he, unlike the experts of today, has kept it pretty simple.
 
His theology isn’t weighed down by a lifetime of good study, marketable research, fads and trends and buzz words. Unlike us, God has little regard for five-step programs or carefully administered checklists when it comes to his calling upon our lives. God doesn’t need the benefit of our wisdom and our well-intentioned efforts as it pertains to helping ourselves and others determine his intentions for us. God, simply and profoundly, boils “calling” down to two words.
 
Know me.
 
That’s it, and it’s enough… at least it is for me. When I came to this realization a couple of years ago, I was freed from the burden of my “calling” as it was being purported within Christian circles. I no longer carry the struggle of having to figure mine out, because in knowing God, I know more and hold more than I will ever be able to fully administer to others in my lifetime. I don’t have to go searching for my calling and what that will look for me in the days to come. I simply have to know him more today than I did yesterday and then, out of that knowing, lead others to know the same.
 
It’s what Jesus Christ prayed for in his garden moments before his crucifixion. That we, believers in a season yet to come, would know him and his Father… intimately (John 17). That we would share in the love and knowledge of a relational God who longs to reveal himself—his character and his heart—to his children. That the overriding “passion” and boast of our hearts would not be regarding our wisdom, our strength, and our riches, but that instead our boast would be in our understanding and knowing God (Jeremiah 9:23-24).
 
And that with that being said, even more so lived, we walk in our callings. Not perfectly, but more fully as God intended. Daily stepping alongside Truth, so that with every breath we take, every thought we think, every word we speak, we do so knowing that God hovers in close proximity to our frames, making sure that we get it right. Get Him right.
 
Knowing God, and then out of that knowing, leading others to know the same.
 
This is my life calling. My freedom shout. My willingness to believe it’s just as simple and as beautifully profound as it writes and reads and sounds. May God grant me, perhaps even you, the courage to walk his depth and breadth for as long as the earthen sod tarries beneath our feet. May you know God more today than you did yesterday, and may you harbor the expectation of tomorrow’s knowing as sweet promise in your heart.
 
Knowing God. If you are headed in that direction, friends, then you are walking your calling.
 
Keep to it. Keep to the glorious revelation of our King. I’ll meet you on the road. As always…
 
Peace for the journey,
from where I’m sitting today {chemo #3}…

from where I’m sitting today {chemo #3}…

 {the Market House… will make sense if you watch the video}
Twenty-four points of sacred intersection between my heart and theirs—those twenty-four precious souls that God chose to weave into my morning and lunch hour. I probably missed someone in my counting, but it doesn’t much matter the number. What matters is that each one of those lives graciously allowed me a moment of their day to make a personal investment into their hearts. It is privilege I don’t take lightly… a gift given to me by them and by God as an opportunity to love and to simply say,
I notice you; you matter.
There is no pain I currently hold that negates the responsibility of such moments. Rather, God is using the pain as a catalyst to touch lives that I would have never had open access to in my previous life… my life as I lived it only ten weeks ago. I don’t want that life back. Instead, I want to hold the fullness of what I now know, now believe—
That cancer will not be my undoing; rather, cancer will be the threshold of my emerging. Something greater—God’s greater—will become of me because of the path I’m now treading. Perhaps not something in the tangible, seen aspects of daily living, but in the quiet, secret places of sacred consecration.  
I want a pure soul…  a cleanness before God I’ve never known. I want perspective and wisdom that can only come from the Father and that, sometimes, can only be birthed through suffering. I want to get to the end of treatment and not harbor any regrets for the time I now manage. I want to live my “now” rightly and honor the pulse of Christ’s heart as laid out in Matthew 28:18-20. None of us gets a pass on this one, friends. Regardless of what we’re “holding” today, no matter if it hurts us immensely and provokes our faith in the deepest kind of way, we must receive our calling from God as the most precious gift from his heart. We must treasure it, own it, believe it, live it.
Go. Make disciples. Baptizing every point of sacred intersection along the way with the truth, love, and witness of all heaven. There is no finer gift that we can offer to those fellow sojourners on the path of grace we trod. They may not understand that they’re on the path of grace, but when their steps coincide with ours, then grace abounds. It’s in me and in you; it’s ours to give. Dispense it liberally, rejoicing as you go.
I notice you; you matter.  
A word rightly and fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver (Proverbs 25:11a). So speak as you are given occasion, knowing that in those few brief moments of sacred pause, you step as God intends, you shine forth as gold, and all of heaven choruses its applause in honor of your understanding.
Keep to it, friends. As always…
Peace for the journey,

PS: For a copy of Sassy Granny’s recipe, click here…

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