So far today I've been able to have two conversations about last night's story in Lifegroup, which was the parable of the sower. It reminds me of a few reasons that I love storying.
Honestly, storying is the most I've ever really discussed the Bible in a small group environment. In past times (and I've done small groups intensely for over 10 years), I've focused on (and taught others) to spend some time "hooking" the group with an intro question. Usually 10 minutes or more. And prayer time was about 10 minutes. And then opinion sharing and trying to compose the right kinds of questions to avoid long, painful silence consumed 30 minutes. That usually meant that though Scripture was the foundation of the lesson, like most foundations it wasn't seen once you actually got inside. So I like how storying has us talking about the Bible more than anything else.
I also like how I'm not the one talking the most. No, seriously...I do like that. Most of the time with small groups the leader feels like they have to carry the conversation and ask the right questions (as above). But the combination of storying and they way that listening connects to our discipleship path means I should hush more than articulate well my every thought. Come to think of it, I'm probably not the only one in my group that is glad I have to talk less and listen more.
But I also like storying because of what happened today. In those conversations two different people told a brief story and I was able to say, "That reminds me of story from the Bible that we just discussed..." It was much more natural than saying, "You know, the Bible says this or that about __________." I am more likely to share the story. It's more accessible. I can't tell you the number of times I've tried to remember chapter and verse to no avail. But I can remember the story (as testified by my incredible ability to recite Goodnight Moon from memory).
Talking about God's story also reminds me that I'm a part of His Story. That's important on a personal level because I want to remember that God loves me. Really loves me. Not because of what I do or lead...just because.
First, I hope you're in a small group environment. Second, I think it's awesome if you're small group environment is storying. May the story of God be a holy, contagious infection in all of us.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
The God Who Invented Community
What we process (debrief, discuss, experience) together not only bonds us but also means that our thoughts will have greater clarity and more closely reflect the thoughts of a God who experiences Triune Community every day. We need each other.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Just Lower the Bar
My wife was doing a craft with our girls today (mostly because that is just the kind of mom that she is and partially because like activities maintain a sense of sanity throughout the winter) when she noticed a familiar phenomenon. The craft required that the girls place beads on a string to make a bracelet or necklace. One of our girls picked up the lacing thing very quickly and was off and running. Her twin sister, however, didn't seem to have the same mastery. That is when Jen noticed something hauntingly familiar.
When my one daughter had tried for a few minutes to place the beads on the string as instructed but with no avail, she simply reverted to what her Fall-inflicted human nature said she should do - she settled. She accepted less than the best. She shifted the win. Whatever you want to call it, my daughter flipped from lacing beads to organizing beads in the little metal pan. She couldn't master what was new to her and, rather than fail, she simply reverted back to sorting and organizing and categorizing and color-matching and all the things that she new she could do.
It's hauntingly familiar because that is a part of our common, broken humanity. We settle for less than God's best. We punt at fourth and long when God knows (though its seemingly unattainable) that we're about to get a first down. We aren't willing to let God use us as a medium to create a masterpiece that we can't see or conceive. It's a fear of failure of sorts, yes. But it's more than that. It's a sign that our self-reliance is more important than a God-dependence. And while that is nothing new, it is frightening for me to see it spring up in my daughter so early.
In a few weeks we'll embark on this year's all-church journey, Free. We'll be looking at ourselves in light of Jesus' promise that His Truth would bring freedom. As I think about my daughter and her simple shift this morning, I find myself thinking also about how I have shifted and, therefore, experience bondage rather than Freedom. I want to be Free. I think we all do.
If you're aren't in a group yet, don't forget to contact us and we'll be happy to get you into a group. Hey, you're always invited to our group (Wednesdays at 7:00 p.m.). If you're in a group, I hope your group will take the challenge to go through Free with the rest of us.
We will know the Truth and the Truth will set us Free. (Jesus, John 8:32)
When my one daughter had tried for a few minutes to place the beads on the string as instructed but with no avail, she simply reverted to what her Fall-inflicted human nature said she should do - she settled. She accepted less than the best. She shifted the win. Whatever you want to call it, my daughter flipped from lacing beads to organizing beads in the little metal pan. She couldn't master what was new to her and, rather than fail, she simply reverted back to sorting and organizing and categorizing and color-matching and all the things that she new she could do.
It's hauntingly familiar because that is a part of our common, broken humanity. We settle for less than God's best. We punt at fourth and long when God knows (though its seemingly unattainable) that we're about to get a first down. We aren't willing to let God use us as a medium to create a masterpiece that we can't see or conceive. It's a fear of failure of sorts, yes. But it's more than that. It's a sign that our self-reliance is more important than a God-dependence. And while that is nothing new, it is frightening for me to see it spring up in my daughter so early.
In a few weeks we'll embark on this year's all-church journey, Free. We'll be looking at ourselves in light of Jesus' promise that His Truth would bring freedom. As I think about my daughter and her simple shift this morning, I find myself thinking also about how I have shifted and, therefore, experience bondage rather than Freedom. I want to be Free. I think we all do.
If you're aren't in a group yet, don't forget to contact us and we'll be happy to get you into a group. Hey, you're always invited to our group (Wednesdays at 7:00 p.m.). If you're in a group, I hope your group will take the challenge to go through Free with the rest of us.
We will know the Truth and the Truth will set us Free. (Jesus, John 8:32)
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Band-aids for Haiti
This past fall my mother-in-law and father-in-law began working for a mission organization in Columbus, OH called Lifeline Christian Mission (www.lifeline.org). They have served for years in one of that mission organizations' first loves, Haiti, even while they were working at a church in Wilmington, OH but were given an opportunity to serve with them full-time and stepped into that adventure.
When the earthquake struck a few weeks ago my mother-in-law was in Haiti with a team of 57 other women (my father-in-law was to join her that same weekend but obviously didn't make it). She and her team were eventually evacuated and are now safe back home in Ohio.
Jen and I were concerned at times about their safety (obviously) and we talked somewhat freely about our concerns for them and for the people of Haiti. Our discussions happened in front of our 2 1/2 year old daughters without much thought...they were still putting ears where arms should be on Mr. Potato Head or trying to get their corn to stay on their fork for the long, shaky trip to their mouths. But kids are perceptive.
Our girls will tell you (and even pray for) what is happening in "the Haiti". Our first conversation would have sounded something like this.
Us: Where is Grandma?
Our daughters: In the Haiti.
Us: What do you think she is doing?
Our daughters: Giving out band-aids.
Us: Why is she giving out band-aids?
Our daughters: Because the people fall down and hurt their knee.
[Pause]
Our daughters: Mommy, I want to go to the Haiti. I give band-aids, too.
I pray that our daughters will always have a heart for the things that break the heart of God.
When the earthquake struck a few weeks ago my mother-in-law was in Haiti with a team of 57 other women (my father-in-law was to join her that same weekend but obviously didn't make it). She and her team were eventually evacuated and are now safe back home in Ohio.
Jen and I were concerned at times about their safety (obviously) and we talked somewhat freely about our concerns for them and for the people of Haiti. Our discussions happened in front of our 2 1/2 year old daughters without much thought...they were still putting ears where arms should be on Mr. Potato Head or trying to get their corn to stay on their fork for the long, shaky trip to their mouths. But kids are perceptive.
Our girls will tell you (and even pray for) what is happening in "the Haiti". Our first conversation would have sounded something like this.
Us: Where is Grandma?
Our daughters: In the Haiti.
Us: What do you think she is doing?
Our daughters: Giving out band-aids.
Us: Why is she giving out band-aids?
Our daughters: Because the people fall down and hurt their knee.
[Pause]
Our daughters: Mommy, I want to go to the Haiti. I give band-aids, too.
I pray that our daughters will always have a heart for the things that break the heart of God.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Lost
This past Sunday I had an experience that makes any parent tremble. Jen, the girls and I were in the Fireside Room at Parkside's Salem Road Campus preparing to leave (winter means that just getting jackets on can take a short forever). I left to go get my Bible and notes from the stage and made a few passing comments to people as I made my way back to the lobby. I met Jen there asking me if one of our 2 1/2 year old twin daughters was with me. Upon saying no, Jen left our other two daughters with me as she took a quick glance at the elevator to see if she'd gone there (I'm not sure why our daughters love the elevator...they just do.) She returned to say that she wasn't at the elevator either. At that point I leave our other daughters with friends and begin to help her search. I'm running down hallways and looking in rooms with a vigor that it's hard to describe unless you've lost a child before. Very soon, Bart Steever (our Discipleship Minister) came around the corner with our daughter not far behind (she wouldn't let him pick her up or hold her hand). The entire episode probably lasted all of two minutes, but they felt like two years.
As I said, it is very difficult to describe the sense of worry--absolute panic--that swept through my body like a tidal wave. I was immediately concerned that she was wandering out into the busy parking lot or, worse, had been abducted. It's funny how your brain waves come in torrents in times like this. Stomach in knots. Whole body tense. It's wretched.
I was SO glad to see my daughter again. SO relieved. That feeling of relief is probably equally difficult to describe. I held her pretty tightly for longer than she liked.
Later Sunday, once the panic had subsided, I started to think about the situation from a different perspective. And I wished that my sense of panic and pain for God's children who have wandered far away from a sustaining relationship with Him was just as deep and real. I wish I ran down hallways to reach those who were lost. I wish my stomach was just as uneasy every day with the reality that an entire world around me needs to find their Father in the same way that my daughter needed me. Nah...that's not even true. They need their Father much worse.
As I said, it is very difficult to describe the sense of worry--absolute panic--that swept through my body like a tidal wave. I was immediately concerned that she was wandering out into the busy parking lot or, worse, had been abducted. It's funny how your brain waves come in torrents in times like this. Stomach in knots. Whole body tense. It's wretched.
I was SO glad to see my daughter again. SO relieved. That feeling of relief is probably equally difficult to describe. I held her pretty tightly for longer than she liked.
Later Sunday, once the panic had subsided, I started to think about the situation from a different perspective. And I wished that my sense of panic and pain for God's children who have wandered far away from a sustaining relationship with Him was just as deep and real. I wish I ran down hallways to reach those who were lost. I wish my stomach was just as uneasy every day with the reality that an entire world around me needs to find their Father in the same way that my daughter needed me. Nah...that's not even true. They need their Father much worse.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Light of the World
There is a candle in my office with a deep well at the top where the wick is. I've been burning it a lot this week (it smells like cinnamon and Christmas) and I've noticed that the flame makes the top very pliable. In fact, it's been fun to play with the wax at the top--pushing it one way and the next--as I've been working on this week's sermon.
It's the eve of the day that we celebrate the birth of the Son of God, whose coming has made it possible for our hearts and lives to be changed. As with the candle wax in my office, may we also be malleable and changed as we draw closer to the Light of the World.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Stuck in Romans 12
I'm stuck. I've been reading and rereading Romans 12 for about the past week (at least I think it has been a week...keep in mind that I have a newborn baby so my relationship to time is seriously altered). While the first few verses are highly memorized and get much play, I'm caught most by the end of that chapter. Simple sentences. First-grade-reading-level sentences. But the impact is amazing. And I struggle on varying levels with just about every simple, weighty sentence Paul throws at that early Roman church. I find that it isn't the hard theological arguments that trip me up but the simple, you-know-what-this-means stuff.
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