Father, forgive them...they don't know what they are doing...

Today I read this blog entry that I'd like to share here on In Retentis. I'll put the first couple of paragraphs here and then you can go to Jason's blog site to read the rest.

Yesterday I was making my way through town to pick up Aly from a Birthday party. I had just finished talking to a friend and was collecting my thoughts in transit.

I approached an intersection in my town only to be attacked with “streetcorner evangelists” with Bibles held high in the air, like a public sword drill. They were screaming something, but since it was freezing cold, everyone’s windows where rolled up muting their passionate shouts. I’m glad no one could hear them. The signs they were holding up said it all… “The angel of the Lord will see the blood and pass over…” Exodus whatever, whatever. There were a couple other signs as well. They were other obscure truncated quotes from the Old Testament that were meant to induce some apocalyptic paranoia in the passerbys. Fear-mongers.

Click here for the rest of the blog

So Glad

I had laid some mighty plans,
Thought I held them in my hands.
Then my world began to crumble all away.
I tried to build it back again;
I couldn't bear to see it end,
How it hurt to know You wanted it that way.

And I'm so glad,
Glad to find the reason,
That I'm happy-sad
That You've torn it all away,
And I'm so glad,
Though it hurts to know I'm leaving
Everything I ever thought that I would be.
Once I held it in my hand.
It was a kingdom made of sand.
But now You've blown it all away.
I can't believe that I can say,
That I'm glad.

Long before my plans were made,
I know a master plan was laid,
With a power that superseded my control.
And if that truth could pierce my heart,
I wouldn't wander from the start,
Trying desperately to make it on my own.

And I'm so glad,
Glad to find the reason,
That I'm happy-sad
That You've torn it all away,
And I'm so glad,
Though it hurts to know I'm leaving
Everything I ever thought that I would be.
Once I held it in my hand.
It was a kingdom made of sand.
But now You've blown it all away.
I can't believe that I can say,
That I'm glad.

- Chris Christian, Elliott Bannister, & Amy Grant

All I Ever Have To Be

When the weight of all my dreams
Is resting heavy on my head,
And the thoughtful words of health and hope
Have all been nicely said.

But I'm still hurting,
Wondering if I'll ever be
The one I think I am.

I think I am.

Then you gently re-remind me
That you've made me from the first,
And the more I try to be the best
The more I get the worst.

And I realize the good in me,
Is only there because of who you are.

Who you are...

And all I ever have to be
Is what you've made me.
Any more or less would be a step
Out of your plan.

As you daily recreate me,
Help me always keep in mind
That I only have to do
What I can find.

And all I ever have to be
All I have to be
All I ever have to be
Is what youve made me.

- Gary Chapman

I had hoped

Today was the first day in over 12 years that I haven't had responsibilities in the institutionalized church. There was a sense of freedom this weekend, especially from the normal pressure of preparing for the form and functions of the services I normally preside. But there was also a sense of loss and a great sense of grieving.

One of my biggest challenges is helping each member of my family walk their own way on this new path. The decisions I am making for me certainly have an impact on the others, but I don't want to dictate to them how they should feel, or even how they need to proceed. I'm trying to make healthy decisions for myself and give them the freedom and encouragement to do the same.

This weekend I just knew that I didn't want to be at THAT church. My wife was certain she wasn't to be in ANY institutional church. Two of the children wanted to go back to hang with their friends, one wanted to hang with us, and the youngest slept through the discussion and the decision making. He woke up upset because his Sunday school class was planning on spending the whole day outside in recess. I understand his thinking. He lives for having fun on the playgrounds of this world.

After dropping off the two older kids where I used to hang my hat, I went to the neighborhood church half a block from my home. I know what you must be thinking, "You spent your first Sunday of freedom in another IC?" Well, I feel a bit chagrined, but yes, I did. I've connected with the pastor of this church and consider him a friend (as much as our busy positions have allowed). This means we know each other's names, share resources on occasion and pray for each other. This last year we had a couple of opportunities to share our hearts together. Both of us were taking hits from our own team mates. At our last meeting he wasn't sure that he would be in his role much longer. It looks like I beat him to the punch.

He was surprised when I walked through the front doors. He was blessed thinking I had spent a rare Sunday off at his church. Well, they aren't so rare anymore, and I ended up being the one that was blessed.

He spoke from the text in Luke 24 about Cleophas and his friend who were walking towards Emmaus in a deep discussion. They were sad. They were concerned. They were unaware that it was Jesus walking with them. Some of their blindness must have had to do with their tears which makes everything a little blurry. Some of it was because Father didn't want them to recognize Jesus yet.

What was their discussion? The sentences probably started with the words, "I had hoped..."
"I had hoped that Jesus was really the Messiah."
"I had hoped that we would have stayed as a group for the rest of our lives."
"I had hoped that the religious leaders would have seen the error of their ways."

And I realized that those words start much of the conversations my heart is having right now:
"I had hoped that this job was the one that I was meant for"
"I had hoped to be with those people for the rest of my life."
"I had hoped the (other) religious leaders would have seen the error of their ways."
"I had hoped to have had my chance at leading from the top"
"I had hoped to have had the pulpit more."
"I had hoped that others would have seen my indispensability."
"I had hoped things wouldn't move on so easily without me."
"I had hoped... I had hoped."

But what Cleophas and company received was even better than they imagined. They had sweet communion with Jesus. They partook of his life, both in the representation of His broken body and in the presence of His resurrected one. The reality of the Kingdom was far greater than that which the disciples imagined.

I need that resurrection hope today. My aspirations are like fading memories of early morning dreams. I need them replaced with His presence. I need my heartburn of anxiety swapped for a burning heart from His Words. I need a long walk to Emmaus with Jesus. I need my eyes opened to His Kingdom, not my own.

Through Christ you have come to trust in God. And because God raised Christ from the dead and gave him great glory, your faith and hope can be placed confidently in God.
- 1 Peter 1:21

Chisel Away My Roughness

A friend sent me this prayer. It was originally a prayer of Graham Cooke's that she adapted.

“Father, I’m weary of being misunderstood. I’m tired of the ungracious scrutiny of others. Hide me dear Lord in the secret place of your presence. Keep me from people who speak about me and not to me. I am helpless against the riptide of their words. I cannot defend myself. Refresh my heart to look on them in love. I accept this part of your cross. Change my heart to speak of your love and sculpt my life through these situations. Let their hard words and unkind actions chisel away my roughness forming Christ. I lay my heart before you, heal me that I may walk with a bounce in my step and joy in my heart. Help me to forgive completely as you do. Mentor me Jesus in the kindness of your friendship there is safety.”

Honesty? Honestly...

If yesterday was a day for taking responsibility for the role I have played in my brokenness, today is a day I am wallowing in victimization. I hate this flip flopping. But my current reality is that yesterday's tears have dried up leaving a face chiseled in anger underneath.

I look down at my body and find spears protruding at odd angles. They didn't get here by accident; they were thrown, some from behind. Those that had the responsibility to protect me instead have used me. I feel like Uriah must have felt as the rest of the army pulled back, leaving him at the front lines at the command of King David, his Commander in Chief. Uriah was sacrificed so David could cover his own shame. Then David covered up Uriah's murder like it was just the expected collateral damage of battle. Such is the price of doing business with a king; or even as I have been informed, doing business in the church.

I was charged with the crime of having an entitlement attitude, thinking something was owed me because of my appointment in the ministry. Guilty as charged. But when I turn that same argument around I find that this king and his court felt they were entitled to my life, not just my work, simply because they gave me a paycheck. I am mad at them for taking advantage of me. I am mad that I have served under a man who felt he had the right to remind me that I "serve at the pleasure of the King" thinking that would mean him. I am thankful this has been resolved, that my service to him is no longer required, because I am nearly dead from the friendly fire.

Today I want someone to pay. I want someone to suffer for the pain I am in, for the sin that has been done to me.

And then I remember someone has.

And the tears, in a rush, return.

It's Going To Take Some Time This Time

It's going to take some time this time
To get my (heart) in shape
I really feel out-of line this time
I really missed the gate
- Carole King

I was handed the reins of a ministry. I had paid my dues in the stable, served faithfully and responsibly. Now it was my turn on the track.

It was a dream! I was given the freedom, resources and time to develop a very special ministry. I pursued it with passion figuring this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Not wanting to make mistakes I did my research carefully. I interviewed those who had gone before me. I traveled the globe to talk with others on this journey. I prayed. I made a list of what was important to me, the things that resonated with my heart. I discarded the traditions that seemed like a box and would hold us back from winning the race. Then at the end of all my planning something wonderful happened; God showed up! He lent His ideas to my feeble ones and blew His Spirit on the whole mess; our pony was ready to run!

Then the tug-of-war began. Somebody else grabbed a hold of the reins thinking that I wasn't qualified or capable of running the show. So I smacked them with my riding switch and took off out the gate.

I proved the detractors wrong. I was in full stride, winning races, wearing wreaths, waving to the crowds. I fought for what was mine, what had been earned, and what I felt I deserved. It is this sense of entitlement that betrayed me.

It's going to take some time this time
And I can't make demands
But like the young trees in the wintertime
I'll learn how to bend

Others kept pulling on the rope, some in my direction, some in the other. I dug my heels in. I brought my skills of argumentation and articulation. I bloodied a few noses, all in the name of "ministry". Then I started taking shots myself. I chalked it up to fiery trials. I demonized my detractors. I was told by those around me that it was spiritual warfare so I put on my armor. The weight of it all made the racing much harder. I nearly fell a few times, but I didn't quit, I was still out in front.

And then those who owned the pony told me that I was no longer employed. The dreams I'd jockeyed for had been pink-slipped. The reign was over even before the race was finished.

After all the tears we've spent
How could we make amends
So it's one more round for experience
And I'm on the road again

Now it isn't my ministry anymore. But instead of just finding another rider, the pony is being relocated, moved to another racing track, fitted with blinders and made to pull a cart. My heart grieves.

And in the midst of the pain, I am learning. Now that I'm not racing around the track I have had some time to process what has happened. I see that I have had a high opinion of my schemes and plans. They have been more important to me than those who I have worked with in the stable. My ministry has been more important and urgent than my neighbor's well being. When I have been mistreated I have withdrawn, wallowing in self-pity towards myself and judgment towards others. I saw myself as the leader of this ministry and forgot that I was commissioned to be the lead servant.

So I'm going back to the first things: intimacy, relationship and compassion. It's a humbling journey.

And it's going to take some time this time