Saturday morning, I felt like a heathen. I’ve always been pretty conservative in the way that I dress. My most risque moments stem from being nearly six feet tall – it can be kind of difficult to find skirts and dresses of an appropriate length when you’re this tall, you know. I’m hardly ever fashion-forward, and I live my life in a perpetual fear that Stacy and Clinton will accost me in the grocery store. You think I’m kidding, but I’m not.
Anyway, that’s all beside the point.
Saturday morning, I got dressed in a T-shirt and capri pants, hopped in the car, and headed off to practice for the community Easter service. It was at the Pentecostal church. When I walked in the door, I instantly felt conspicuous in my capri pants. I was surrounded by women in floor-length denim skirts with their looooong hair tucked into buns on the back of their heads.
We, clearly, were very different.
But we were also the same. We were there to worship together and prepare for a community gathering of all the Christians in our area. Twice a year, we lay aside our differences and come together in celebration. The pastors from all the churches each share a short message. The choirs mingle together, and we stand on the common ground of faith that we share.
Yesterday afternoon, we gathered together and collectively turned our hearts toward the cross. It was Palm Sunday, and we heard about the hope, and joy, and grace, and new life, and forgiveness, and peace that comes from the cross. I daresay we all had our uncomfortable moments, but we spend so much time talking about our differences that it’s nice to lay them aside at least for a little while. It’s one of the things I miss most about my days at Beeson.
I love the fact that at the community services, a woman preaches from IBC’s pulpit. I love the fact that the Pentecostal preacher makes the less lively of us squirm in our seats. I love the fact that we’re in it together, differences and all. It’s such a beautiful picture of what heaven will be like. Sometimes it’s good to be uncomfortable. We’re all different, but the cross is strong enough to bind us together.
On this Holy Week Monday, I hope that your heart is turning toward the cross. That your mind is stayed on the One who gave up everything for us. And that you’re clinging to the hope that sprang to life with His resurrection.
Until next time, grace and peace.
It’s been a while since I’ve written in detail about my writing projects. Lately, I’ve been wrapped up in two major contracts, one of which is Prime, the new Bible Study by Student Life. I signed on to write six lessons for this study, and I’m really excited and honored to have been a part of it. I’ve written five of the six, and honestly, I’ll be a little sad to wrap it all up, but I’m hoping to start teaching through this study with my girls in the fall.
Prime is a 48-week study divided into eight 6-week sections, and the entire study is all about living for God above anything else. The lessons talk about being holy, spiritual disciplines, stewardship, the book of James, big questions that we wrestle with, and more. If you’re looking for new curriculum to start with your students in the fall, I can’t recommend Prime highly enough, but, of course, being one of the writers, I’m biased. It’s not available for purchase yet, but it will be ready for the new church year starting in September.
Just thought I’d give you a little more info on what’s keeping me busy these days. More on my recent writing projects to come later!
Until next time, grace and peace.
“I thank him who has given me strength, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful, appointing me to his service, though formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor & insolent opponent.
But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.
The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.
But I receieved mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life.
To the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.”
‘I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’
Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’
And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’
Matthew 25:36-40
A few days ago, I met a new couple in the hallway at church. They seemed nice enough, and after a quick introduction, I hurried to the nursery to drop Micah off and then went about my business, teaching class in the youth building.
Only later did I learn that the couple is destitute, which, according to the definition of the word at dictionary.com, means that they are lacking basic necessities such as food, clothing, and shelter. My jaw dropped when I heard the news.
I live in a nice, small, Southern town. I know that there are poor people in our area, but honestly, I never see them. I didn’t know that our little town had projects until I stumbled across them one day when I took a wrong turn. When I read passages in the Bible like the one above, I think, yes, we should feed the hungry, and clothe the naked, but really, Lord, where are they? They’re not here.
Turns out that they are.
A lot of people have rallied around the couple, and they now have a roof over their heads, food in their pantry, and clothes on their back. They don’t, however, have a car. Did I mention that the woman is pregnant? And the hospital in Iuka will flat out turn you away if you walk in with a pregnancy complication. The closest place to receive care is Corinth, 20 miles away.
Can you imagine?
They walked the mile and a half to church from the less-than-reputable motel they were staying in.
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to go to church so badly that I set out walking.
Even Dennis, who literally grew up around the corner from church, has never walked there.
We are so privileged, and so often, we don’t even realize it. Three years ago at this time, I had just returned from a monumental trip to Africa. It was there that I first realized how absolutely undeserving I am of the life that God has chosen to bless me with. Here I am, three years later, learning the same lesson all over again.
Yesterday afternoon, I cleaned out my pantry and linen closet, bagging up items that I had gotten for free thanks to my couponing efforts. It felt good to be able to give so freely out of the abundance that God had given me, but I wonder if there is something more we can do.
I know that there are people like them all over the place. The reminder that they exist, even in a place like Iuka, has shamed me for the way I have failed to do the things that God has asked me to do. I don’t feed the poor or clothe the naked. I certainly don’t visit anyone in prison, nor do I intend to anytime soon.
I think there’s something wrong with that.
I know that I am doing a ridiculously poor job of loving the least of these. And that’s a sobering thought.
As I contemplated ways that we can actually help the poor in our midst, I was reminded of God’s commands to the Israelites. If they were so fortunate as to own a field, they weren’t to harvest it all the way up to the edges. They were supposed to leave a margin of unharvested food around the outside. That way, those who were without could come and collect food to eat {see Leviticus 19:9-10}. That, by the way, is what Ruth was doing in Boaz’s field. Collecting the grain that had been left behind.
Now, Dennis and I don’t have a field with grain to harvest. But we do reap a paycheck harvest every month, and I think we can do a better job of saving some room at the edges to help the poor.
I want to be able to give freely out of the abundance that God has given us. This whole experience has reminded me that it’s time to be more disciplined and intentional about the way we handle our money and resources. As Christians, we are called to love the least of these. It’s well past time for us to get started.
Until next time, grace and peace.
I originally wrote this post on my personal blog on February 1, 2008, but last weekend I realized I needed to relearn some of the lessons I learned in Africa. Aren’t you glad you get to revisit Africa with me??
So. When I last wrote, I gave you a rundown of the trip and told you how I felt before we left.
Anxious. That one word wraps up all of the emotions I felt preparing to leave for Ghana. I was frustrated because I didn’t know much about what would happen there. I didn’t have an itinerary, much less the names of places we would be staying. I didn’t know where we were going or what we were doing. I wasn’t even sure who was going on the trip. I didn’t know what to tell people when they asked about it. They always wanted to know what we would be doing. When asked, I usually laughed nervously and responded, “That’s a good question.” The feelings of anxiety didn’t stop when we flew away from Birmingham. They remained for three or four days after we arrived in Ghana as I wondered what in the world I was doing there.
When we arrived in Accra, I wanted to get back on the airplane and go back home. I got separated from the rest of the group. They all went ahead of me, and as I passed through the last security check at the airport, a Ghanaian man walked up to me and insisted that I needed another stamp on my passport. This stamp would cost me $20. I was already confused, because I had seen the man talking to Parker. I thought that he could have been with the seminary, someone sent to greet us. But as he continued to insist that I give him $20 for another stamp, I knew that he was just trying to scam me out of money. I asserted that if I had to get another stamp, I would ask one of the people wearing a nametag from the airport. He backed off at that point, but he didn’t go away until after I got out the door of the airport and met up with the rest of the group. The encounter rattled me. I was all alone and unprepared for the situation, immediately set on the defensive. At that point, I looked suspiciously at every Ghanaian I saw. I didn’t care if “helping” Americans at the airport was a good way for them to make some extra money. All I cared about was protecting myself, my money, and my bags from the hands of people who just wanted to take advantage of me.
It’s unfortunate that my experiences in Ghana began with such a strong negative image of the Ghanaian people. It took several days for me to get over my run-in with the con artist; I couldn’t imagine that anything good would come of the trip. All I wanted to do was criticize and withdraw from the culture, but after I had a little distance from the situation, I approached the Ghanaian culture with more openness. A little observation helped me realize that no one else I had met in Ghana acted in the same way as the man at the airport. Quite the contrary, in fact. All of the people we met were extremely kind and hospitable, and they welcomed us to their country with open arms. They were more than willing to help us in any way we needed, whether that meant giving rides, supplying cell phones, providing meals, or making hotel arrangements. Once I understood this, I began to relax, and my expectations for the trip took on a positive tone.
We spent the first several days of the trip studying at Trinity Theological Seminary in Accra. We heard several lectures from prominent Ghanaian theologians and learned a great deal about the intersection of African Traditional Religion and Christianity. That will be the subject of your next installment, which will come Monday. Until then…
Grace and peace.
