I am in a major missions conference this week. It is with my friends from the Christian and Missionary Alliance churches. I was floored when they asked me to participate in this conference of mega-proportions. I was humbled even more when I sat with the other two principal speakers. I felt like a small child amidst "giants" of the faith. These two men are Davids, armed with a sling and smooth stones, going up against Goliath and his brothers. I came with a pea-shooter, by comparison.
The two men and I will each speak at least thirteen times in a total of 6 different churches; that's twice in each church and once at the missions fair. We will challenge men and women to give, go, and pray. We are calling out the called. And some are responding. It is my sincere hope that someone will close the conference with an invitation to publicly repsond to the call to missions. I believe God wants to mobilize the good men and women of the CMA churches to go into all the world.
Last night I taught around two thousand men and women about what to do when one is called to missions. So now that I have said that, let me ask my friends who may read this: what would you tell someone to do who felt called to missions and/or ministry? I am interested in hearing your opinions.
Also, someone asked me last night, "How do I know if I have been called?" What you you say to that question? How would you respond?
These are exciting days in South America. God is raising up a mighty army to storm the gates of Hell all around the world. I am humbled beyond words to know that I have been able to play a very small part in His plans.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
The Joy of Making Others Weep
Today I watched a grown man cry. In fact, I made him cry. But I did not cry with him. In fact, I laughed. The more tears he wiped away, the more I laughed. Such cruelty. Such hardness. Not really. Not this time.
The man cried for joy. A little more than a month ago he lost his car to a hit and run driver. When some acquaintances in the United States learned of his plight, they were moved with compassion and to action. They took up a love offering and sent it with me to him. So I was the messenger for this dear brother. So the man cried and I laughed, all of it for the joy of the Lord.
He kept saying, "I knew God would take care of me; I never expected it to be all at once." And he would cry some more; I would laugh some more. Before long, his tears gave way to laughter, too.
After all, we serve that kind of God. Sometimes, when the chips are down, when we don't know which way to turn or what to do, God shows up. He scoops up a handful of whatever we need and sends it our way. Sometimes that is something tangible, like money. Sometimes it is hope. Sometimes it is peace. It's always exactly what we need for the moment.
Don't misunderstand me. God did not bless this man instantaneously. The man has struggled for more than a month. His car was his livelihood. He drives for a living. No car, no money; no money, no food. No food, no rent, no lights, no water, nothing. But God is good. And God saw his faithfulness in spite of the severe trial he faced. And God answered with a physical blessing.
I also know that sometimes God says, "Not this time." I don't always know why God does that. But I do know that many times God holds back the blessings to teach us that, "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God." Faith in God's words is more important than faith in God's blessings.
But this was one of those times that God let us see a blessing unfold. And it was a wonderful occasion. The man left here with a spring in his step and a stronger hope in his heart.
Who knows; maybe you can go make someone cry today. If you do, be sure it brings fruits of faith in the person's life.
The man cried for joy. A little more than a month ago he lost his car to a hit and run driver. When some acquaintances in the United States learned of his plight, they were moved with compassion and to action. They took up a love offering and sent it with me to him. So I was the messenger for this dear brother. So the man cried and I laughed, all of it for the joy of the Lord.
He kept saying, "I knew God would take care of me; I never expected it to be all at once." And he would cry some more; I would laugh some more. Before long, his tears gave way to laughter, too.
After all, we serve that kind of God. Sometimes, when the chips are down, when we don't know which way to turn or what to do, God shows up. He scoops up a handful of whatever we need and sends it our way. Sometimes that is something tangible, like money. Sometimes it is hope. Sometimes it is peace. It's always exactly what we need for the moment.
Don't misunderstand me. God did not bless this man instantaneously. The man has struggled for more than a month. His car was his livelihood. He drives for a living. No car, no money; no money, no food. No food, no rent, no lights, no water, nothing. But God is good. And God saw his faithfulness in spite of the severe trial he faced. And God answered with a physical blessing.
I also know that sometimes God says, "Not this time." I don't always know why God does that. But I do know that many times God holds back the blessings to teach us that, "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God." Faith in God's words is more important than faith in God's blessings.
But this was one of those times that God let us see a blessing unfold. And it was a wonderful occasion. The man left here with a spring in his step and a stronger hope in his heart.
Who knows; maybe you can go make someone cry today. If you do, be sure it brings fruits of faith in the person's life.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
The Next Pitch
I just returned from south Tennessee, just north of Corinth, MS and west of Memphis, TN. It was my turn at the plate. By day I was to seek out men and women who may be interested in volunteering for a mission trip. By night I was the guest preacher for my host church. It was a splendid time.
We were situated just off Shiloh National Military Park, one of the famous sites of the Civil War. I went there to walk in the shade of the beautiful trees. I oohed and aahed over the beauty around me. I enjoyed the wildlife: deer, turkey, and other animals promenaded about us.
At the same time I pondered the complexity of mankind. Thousands of men died in this quiet, beautiful spot. Nobody won; everyone lost. It was a bittersweet place to walk. I was able to clear my head, to think. And I waited for the next pitch.
There were no curves thrown on this leg of the trip. Things went as expected; well, almost.
I expected to see men and women moved by the Spirit of God. Some were. Far too many did not seem to be impressed by God's presence. Perhaps they will be in some future date. One thing I do know: those moments were preserved somehow in eternity.
I hit the proverbial balls that were pitched to me. Now I must wait and see what results those hits will bring.
I almost sat out for the last inning. I am glad I did not. This morning I spoke with about eight men who now burn with the Spirit's fire. Their hearts burn for the lost around the world.
I have to call that a good hit.
We were situated just off Shiloh National Military Park, one of the famous sites of the Civil War. I went there to walk in the shade of the beautiful trees. I oohed and aahed over the beauty around me. I enjoyed the wildlife: deer, turkey, and other animals promenaded about us.
At the same time I pondered the complexity of mankind. Thousands of men died in this quiet, beautiful spot. Nobody won; everyone lost. It was a bittersweet place to walk. I was able to clear my head, to think. And I waited for the next pitch.
There were no curves thrown on this leg of the trip. Things went as expected; well, almost.
I expected to see men and women moved by the Spirit of God. Some were. Far too many did not seem to be impressed by God's presence. Perhaps they will be in some future date. One thing I do know: those moments were preserved somehow in eternity.
I hit the proverbial balls that were pitched to me. Now I must wait and see what results those hits will bring.
I almost sat out for the last inning. I am glad I did not. This morning I spoke with about eight men who now burn with the Spirit's fire. Their hearts burn for the lost around the world.
I have to call that a good hit.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
When Life Throws a Curve Ball
I watched a baseball game today between my favorite team and one of my least favorites. I watched in glee as my team's pitcher struck out players, or as the fielders skillfully handled the balls that came their way.
I have always enjoyed watching the pitcher. But more than that, I have always enjoyed hitting a well-pitched ball. So did those 18 men I watched play. But more than once today the different pitchers would throw a very well-placed curve and strike out their opponent.
And so I was reminded that life can be like that; for I was watching that game from within the confines of a comfortable hospital room. Now I am here in North America so I can recruit men and women to help me in South America. I had all my game plan laid out long ago. I had my visits lined up. I knew how much time I had for each planned event, including down time with my two older daughters, my mother, and my siblings, as well as my in-laws. It was carefully planned.
Then came the curve. It was so skillfully pitched that I never saw it coming. So for four precious days I sat in one hospital room or another, seeking some way to remedy the problem that arose. The problem in and of itself is not germane to this discussion. Some of you have been thrown curves, too. You have problems that have sidelined your plans. You have been sent back to the dugout, wondering what in the name of all that is good happened.
If you are anything like I am, you wanted to kick the dirt and toss your bat into the proverbial stands. But you have to be careful doing that. You can hit someone who came to cheer you along. But don't we do it? Are we too often like the spoiled multi-millionaire ball players who hurl their bats into the stands when they are outwitted by a good pitcher? It's like they are screaming how unfair it was that someone dared throw them a curve.
But don't we do that? Don't we tend to bark at the ones who want to attempt to encourage us when we have been thrown a curve? Don't we cry that it is unfair? Someone last night told me how unfair life has been. I agree. Life is unfair.
It is unfair that Christ had to die in my place so that I could live with him at his place. It is unfair that he had to be separated from the Father because he was black with my sin. The stripes on his body were unfair. The beard and hair ripped from his face and head was something unfair. The crown of thorns. The unbearably heavy cross beam he was forced to carry. The spit. The ridicule. The humiliation of dying naked before men, women, and children. It was all unfair. But he did it to throw his own curve in the third inning.
It is unfair that death claims the young and old alike. I heard death cries while at that hospital. I heard disheartened families. I saw discouraged patients. I saw discouraged staff. I felt their load.
The thing that separates the best from the good is how the respond to the curve. Today I saw some smile and wait for the next pitch. I saw others leave in a huff when they struck out. I saw a few look at the pitcher with some due respect.
We need to respond well to the curves that come our way. We need to demonstrate more than a hint of godliness. We need to be examples of grace and lives molded by the Holy Spirit. We need to show our encouragers that we appreciate their encouragement.
Do not be deceived; life will throw you a curve. When it does, look well as to how you select the next pitch.
Oh, by the way, it's a new inning. I am back at homeplate, waiting for the next pitch.
I have always enjoyed watching the pitcher. But more than that, I have always enjoyed hitting a well-pitched ball. So did those 18 men I watched play. But more than once today the different pitchers would throw a very well-placed curve and strike out their opponent.
And so I was reminded that life can be like that; for I was watching that game from within the confines of a comfortable hospital room. Now I am here in North America so I can recruit men and women to help me in South America. I had all my game plan laid out long ago. I had my visits lined up. I knew how much time I had for each planned event, including down time with my two older daughters, my mother, and my siblings, as well as my in-laws. It was carefully planned.
Then came the curve. It was so skillfully pitched that I never saw it coming. So for four precious days I sat in one hospital room or another, seeking some way to remedy the problem that arose. The problem in and of itself is not germane to this discussion. Some of you have been thrown curves, too. You have problems that have sidelined your plans. You have been sent back to the dugout, wondering what in the name of all that is good happened.
If you are anything like I am, you wanted to kick the dirt and toss your bat into the proverbial stands. But you have to be careful doing that. You can hit someone who came to cheer you along. But don't we do it? Are we too often like the spoiled multi-millionaire ball players who hurl their bats into the stands when they are outwitted by a good pitcher? It's like they are screaming how unfair it was that someone dared throw them a curve.
But don't we do that? Don't we tend to bark at the ones who want to attempt to encourage us when we have been thrown a curve? Don't we cry that it is unfair? Someone last night told me how unfair life has been. I agree. Life is unfair.
It is unfair that Christ had to die in my place so that I could live with him at his place. It is unfair that he had to be separated from the Father because he was black with my sin. The stripes on his body were unfair. The beard and hair ripped from his face and head was something unfair. The crown of thorns. The unbearably heavy cross beam he was forced to carry. The spit. The ridicule. The humiliation of dying naked before men, women, and children. It was all unfair. But he did it to throw his own curve in the third inning.
It is unfair that death claims the young and old alike. I heard death cries while at that hospital. I heard disheartened families. I saw discouraged patients. I saw discouraged staff. I felt their load.
The thing that separates the best from the good is how the respond to the curve. Today I saw some smile and wait for the next pitch. I saw others leave in a huff when they struck out. I saw a few look at the pitcher with some due respect.
We need to respond well to the curves that come our way. We need to demonstrate more than a hint of godliness. We need to be examples of grace and lives molded by the Holy Spirit. We need to show our encouragers that we appreciate their encouragement.
Do not be deceived; life will throw you a curve. When it does, look well as to how you select the next pitch.
Oh, by the way, it's a new inning. I am back at homeplate, waiting for the next pitch.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Things I Learned While Traveling to America
I am in North America today--Mississippi, to be exact. South Mississippi. The land of pine trees, catfish, and Baptists. I came for a variety of reasons, none of which are relevant to this post. So let me tell you what I learned while traveling to America; it might be interesting to someone.
- Traveling in coach has become interesting. The seats must be shrinking in width. The leg room is certainly smaller than it once was.
- The earphones are bigger than the seats you sit in. Sticking those things in your ears can be as painful as body piercings look.
- If you travel on a day flight if the person next to the window closes the window blind, you lose the best advantage of daytime travel.
- Be careful what you ask immigrations officials about their equipment. It could slow you down.
- I learned that many Americans have a steadily decreasing vocabulary. There were many who seemed to only know four-letter words.
- I was a confirmed and fully persuaded creationist. Then I saw the baggage handlers in the Miami Airport. Now I am not so sure....
- You can't get a Dr. Pepper on the flights between South America and North America. Never mind that they advertise them as a part of their stock soft drinks. What is this world coming to?
- Americans are some of the most generous people on the face of the earth. I listened with great interest to a man tell of building schools in Latin America. It's all done as donations to the countries they build them in. I listened to others tell of their contributions to world missions.
- Americans still know how to smile in the south.
- Americans still know how to cook in the south.
- Americans still know how to eat really big meals in the south.
- Northerners don't know how to eat grits and eggs.
- Many Mississippians love Jesus. They will go anywhere to serve him.
I have two more weeks in the deep south. Then it is back to South America. Pray for a positive response to the invitation to come and help us win that continent for Jesus.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Love
He loved us first. He did not have to. He was under no obligation to love us first. He just did. It's his nature. But so is justice. So is righteousness. But God chose to exercise his love. He loved us first.
We love him because he first loved us. We would not know love if he did not love us first. We might understand affection. But love? That's a God-thing. And he first loved us. So now we love him. We stretch our arms upward to him, wanting to be held. And accepted. To be with him. It's something that happens when you love someone. You want to be with them. You want to deny yourself because he loved you first. You don't mind taking up your cross. You want to follow.
You can trust him because he loves you. Because if he loves you, you can know he wants the best for you. It may not look like the best thing. But his love is steadfast. So you can trust him.
We love one another because he first loved us. If God did not love me first, I don't know if I could love you. Not the way I am supposed to. But God loved me first. So I now I can love you, even when you are unlovable. Now you can love me, even when I show my ugly side to you.
We love our enemies because he first loved us. I was his enemy. I raged against him. I plotted evil in my bed. I twisted the truth to fit my point of view. I--well, you get the picture. Yet, while was his enemy, God sent Jesus to suffer my penalty. He took my punishment and applied that to his own Son. Then he offered me a pardon. He offered me peace. He offered full forgiveness.
Now I can love my enemies. I can love the men or women who ripped up 600 feet of hand rails off new stairs we built on the steep hillsides of one community. I can love the man who stole cement to make a new patio in front of his store. Because God loved me first, I can walk two miles with the one who asked me to walk one.
Love is there, right along with hope and faith. But faith did not send Christ to the cross for me. Hope did not send him to the cross for me. It was love. The greatest of these is love.
We love him because he first loved us. We would not know love if he did not love us first. We might understand affection. But love? That's a God-thing. And he first loved us. So now we love him. We stretch our arms upward to him, wanting to be held. And accepted. To be with him. It's something that happens when you love someone. You want to be with them. You want to deny yourself because he loved you first. You don't mind taking up your cross. You want to follow.
You can trust him because he loves you. Because if he loves you, you can know he wants the best for you. It may not look like the best thing. But his love is steadfast. So you can trust him.
We love one another because he first loved us. If God did not love me first, I don't know if I could love you. Not the way I am supposed to. But God loved me first. So I now I can love you, even when you are unlovable. Now you can love me, even when I show my ugly side to you.
We love our enemies because he first loved us. I was his enemy. I raged against him. I plotted evil in my bed. I twisted the truth to fit my point of view. I--well, you get the picture. Yet, while was his enemy, God sent Jesus to suffer my penalty. He took my punishment and applied that to his own Son. Then he offered me a pardon. He offered me peace. He offered full forgiveness.
Now I can love my enemies. I can love the men or women who ripped up 600 feet of hand rails off new stairs we built on the steep hillsides of one community. I can love the man who stole cement to make a new patio in front of his store. Because God loved me first, I can walk two miles with the one who asked me to walk one.
Love is there, right along with hope and faith. But faith did not send Christ to the cross for me. Hope did not send him to the cross for me. It was love. The greatest of these is love.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Faith
My last words were based on the need for hope. Hope is such an important thing. Hope often becomes our legs in dark times. Hope becomes a soft pillow instead of stone for our head. Hope lifts our head, our heart. But hope is misplaced when unaccompanied by faith. It becomes wishful thinking.
But faith gives hope its strength. Faith is the thing that can produce hope within us.
In his great work My Utmost for His Highest Oswald Chambers wrote:
But faith gives hope its strength. Faith is the thing that can produce hope within us.
In his great work My Utmost for His Highest Oswald Chambers wrote:
Faith is not some weak and pitiful emotion, but is strong and vigorous confidence built on the fact that God is holy love. And even though you cannot see Him right now and cannot understand what He is doing, you know Him. Disaster occurs in your life when you lack the mental composure that comes from establishing yourself on the eternal truth that God is holy love. Faith is the supreme effort of your life—throwing yourself with abandon and total confidence upon God.
I work with a lot of hopeless people. It's not an economic thing; some of them are wealthy beyond my dreams. A tithe of their money would facilitate a lot of ministry here! They are hopeless because they have a misplaced faith.
Sometimes they have faith in faith itself. That is almost always the case among those who follow prosperity theology. They don't see God as the object of their faith; instead, God is the servant of their faith. Their faith is in their praying, not in the God who answers. And when He does not come through, well hope wanes and often dies.
Others have placed their faith in an image, or an icon, or in a religion. I know a few Baptists like that. I know a few Methodists like that, too. I know too many people like that. They trust something other than God. And without faith, said the author of Hebrews, you cannot please God. That is not carte blanche for us. We cannot claim that verse and then believe whatever. God must be the object of our faith. Abraham believed God and God wrote it up as righteousness for him.
I spoke with a woman this week who has a misplaced faith. So her hope is also weak. Her faith is in me. Yes, in me. She said that she wished I would return to their community and do the teaching, because then she could return to the paths of the Lord. A friend of mine once warned that our people group almost worships the missionary as a god. May we reject such a notion when it appears! I told the woman she was not on the Lord's path because she made a choice not to be there. If I allowed her to place her faith in me, what kind of man would I then be? If she could place her faith in me, when I left--and one day I will--then her hope would likely leave, because the object of her faith left.
Consider the megachurches in the world, especially the United States, where great, eloquent, appealing men of God have fallen. Soon thereafter many walk away from their faith because the object of their faith let them down. That will always happen with a misplaced faith. It's a false faith. It's an empty faith. It's a hopeless faith.
When Elisha left the place where Elijah was taken up from him, he came to the Jordan River with the mantle that Elijah had dropped. Elisha struck the water and cried out, "Where is the LORD God of Elijah?" (2 Kgs. 2:14) His faith was properly placed. It was not in his former teacher/mentor; it was in the only one who deserves to be the object of our faith.
Is your hope weak today? Consider examining your faith, too. If you shift your "faith-gaze" to the Lord, I think you will find your hope, right were you left it.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Hope
In my last post I spoke of a young man we took to the hospital. I learned yesterday that the young man had tried to commit suicide. He drank some kind of poison--probably rat poison. What moves a young teen to such despair? How can one so young believe that life is so empty that the only solution is to end it?
The boy's plight is tragic, to say the least. His father is nowhere to be found. I think he left ages ago. His mother has to earn a living by selling second-hand goods and candies on the street. Those of you in developing countries may have seen such a scene. There are men, women, or children standing on the road, holding a bag of candy. They climb onto the buses or tap on car windows, offering their goods. You can get six pieces of hard candy for about 35 cents.
My sources tell me that while the mother sold her goods, the boy drank. A lot. He spent many days quite drunk, in fact. Where does a 14-year-old get booze? What kind of pervert would sell or give it to him? Better a millstone be hung around his neck!!
So this young man is in the hospital, recovering from a self-inflicted injury. I don't know if he will be the same again. His nervous system was affected. He was already losing his eyesight when we got him there. I am praying for a different kind of eyesight. I am praying for him to see hope in the midst of a miserable life circumstance.
With the bad news flowing around the world today, with men waving weapons and executing people at will, before destroying their own lives, with men and women railing at God, we still need to have a clarion voice that there is hope in Jesus.
The boy's plight is tragic, to say the least. His father is nowhere to be found. I think he left ages ago. His mother has to earn a living by selling second-hand goods and candies on the street. Those of you in developing countries may have seen such a scene. There are men, women, or children standing on the road, holding a bag of candy. They climb onto the buses or tap on car windows, offering their goods. You can get six pieces of hard candy for about 35 cents.
My sources tell me that while the mother sold her goods, the boy drank. A lot. He spent many days quite drunk, in fact. Where does a 14-year-old get booze? What kind of pervert would sell or give it to him? Better a millstone be hung around his neck!!
So this young man is in the hospital, recovering from a self-inflicted injury. I don't know if he will be the same again. His nervous system was affected. He was already losing his eyesight when we got him there. I am praying for a different kind of eyesight. I am praying for him to see hope in the midst of a miserable life circumstance.
With the bad news flowing around the world today, with men waving weapons and executing people at will, before destroying their own lives, with men and women railing at God, we still need to have a clarion voice that there is hope in Jesus.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Life on a Hillside
This morning, Victor (one of our helpers) and I went to a section of town called Las Torres de la Rinconada. It means, "The Towers in the Corner." It's a very appropriate name. The community is up on a high hill, towering over the other communities. We are helping them with a community development project. This area is a high-risk landslide zone. So we are using general relief funds, given by Southern Baptists for this kind of work, to build retaining walls and sets of stairs up and down the very steep hills.
It's a hard life that they have to live. There is no running water in this part of our city. What lights they have are from makeshift connections, pulled from a part of town where there are power cables. In other words, they steal the electricity from an electrified zone. So the wires are thin, mostly useless for the long distances they have to pull the power.
Today we went to check on the progress of the work and then to lead those interested in a Bible study. Some 35 adults, plus a few small children came to the study. It was a precious sight to see. Some of them actually knew something about the Bible. Others seemed to know the Lord. Victor taught. He shared a lesson about the Law of God. The whole point, of course, is that the Law cannot save; only Jesus saves. When his lesson culminated in the plan of salvation, about half the adults indicated that they wanted to repent and place their faith in the Lord Jesus. It was a blessed moment, but a short-lived one.
As we took time to register the professions of faith, one of the residents of the community called to me from outside. She looked concerned. She looked very concerned. Her name, incidently, is Mercy. Mercy told me that a 14-year-old boy had fallen some 2 hours earlier and could not get up. I called out and had one of the men go up and bring him down so that we could take him to the hospital. We were in Victor's borrowed car. The boy's name is Junior. We laid him on the back seat, borrowed some oil from a store owner, anointed the boy, and prayed for him. Then we drove like crazy to the hospital.
The boy could not feel his legs, though he did have some motion. He cried with fear. He trembled. My prayer all the way to the hospital was that God not let that boy die. He is old enough to know that he is a sinner. We did not believe today was the appropriate time to share the gospel with him, or with his mother. Some may use such an emotional moment. I did not want a "fox-hole conversion." I want to see Junior up and walking, and able to listen to the gospel. So I prayed for healing and for his life. Mercy rode in the back seat, along with Carlos, the man who carried Junior to the car.
We take so much for granted. We have so much that we often become blind to the reality that grips others. As one man said to me yesterday, if someone is poor and has Jesus, he is just a poor man. If, on the other hand, he is poor and does not know the Lord, he is in misery. God help us remember what is was like to be miserable! And God help us to be able to rejoice with those who rejoice, but weep with those who weep!
It's a hard life that they have to live. There is no running water in this part of our city. What lights they have are from makeshift connections, pulled from a part of town where there are power cables. In other words, they steal the electricity from an electrified zone. So the wires are thin, mostly useless for the long distances they have to pull the power.
Today we went to check on the progress of the work and then to lead those interested in a Bible study. Some 35 adults, plus a few small children came to the study. It was a precious sight to see. Some of them actually knew something about the Bible. Others seemed to know the Lord. Victor taught. He shared a lesson about the Law of God. The whole point, of course, is that the Law cannot save; only Jesus saves. When his lesson culminated in the plan of salvation, about half the adults indicated that they wanted to repent and place their faith in the Lord Jesus. It was a blessed moment, but a short-lived one.
As we took time to register the professions of faith, one of the residents of the community called to me from outside. She looked concerned. She looked very concerned. Her name, incidently, is Mercy. Mercy told me that a 14-year-old boy had fallen some 2 hours earlier and could not get up. I called out and had one of the men go up and bring him down so that we could take him to the hospital. We were in Victor's borrowed car. The boy's name is Junior. We laid him on the back seat, borrowed some oil from a store owner, anointed the boy, and prayed for him. Then we drove like crazy to the hospital.
The boy could not feel his legs, though he did have some motion. He cried with fear. He trembled. My prayer all the way to the hospital was that God not let that boy die. He is old enough to know that he is a sinner. We did not believe today was the appropriate time to share the gospel with him, or with his mother. Some may use such an emotional moment. I did not want a "fox-hole conversion." I want to see Junior up and walking, and able to listen to the gospel. So I prayed for healing and for his life. Mercy rode in the back seat, along with Carlos, the man who carried Junior to the car.
We take so much for granted. We have so much that we often become blind to the reality that grips others. As one man said to me yesterday, if someone is poor and has Jesus, he is just a poor man. If, on the other hand, he is poor and does not know the Lord, he is in misery. God help us remember what is was like to be miserable! And God help us to be able to rejoice with those who rejoice, but weep with those who weep!
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
The Dummies' Guidebook to Planting Churches
The longer I am somewhere in South America, the more I realize that I don't know much. One thing I thought I knew that now I know I do not know is the easy way to plant a church. I mean, shucks, it sounds easy; you just get a few folks (a lot, if you can) saved, get them baptized, gather them into a group, and voila! You have a church. Now I am not so sure. It's not so easy. I heard a woman Sunday morning who has been at it over in Spain for the past 18 years. In 18 years, she has been a part of forming a church with 14 baptized members. Eighteen years. Fourteen members. Whew! I thought I had it tough!
So if someone out there has written a guidebook for dummies on church planting, feel free to mail it to several hundred of us who are still looking for that magic bullet.
In the meantime, consider the following about effective church planting, shared with me by a beloved brother who must remain nameless, due to his location:
So if someone out there has written a guidebook for dummies on church planting, feel free to mail it to several hundred of us who are still looking for that magic bullet.
In the meantime, consider the following about effective church planting, shared with me by a beloved brother who must remain nameless, due to his location:
- Prayer and fasting should be a regular practice. It should not be an occasional thing.
- There must be extensive personal evangelism. To be clear, this means sharing the gospel in one-on-one, not mass, settings. It means sharing with as many as one's team can share with. It means being intentional, looking for a decision.
- Train new believers and create the expectation that they are to train others.
- Train new believers in groups; those training groups will work to become churches.
- If you want to multiply the number of your churches, multiply the number of training groups.
- Train as many believers as you possibly can. Get as many together as possible.
- Training must be practical. The learner must be sent out to put his training into practice.
- Give them one lesson at a time and send them out to put that into practice by teaching it to someone else. Whoever does not complete the lesson cannot come back into the class he or she began with. He must start over.
- Teach your new believers to obey Scripture. Put that part of the Great Commission into practice (hint: it says, "teaching them to OBEY..."
- Get back to the basics. Be radical. Don't bring traditions and culture into the training. Stick to the Bible.
There are more ideas. Perhaps some of you want to add your own two cents to the list.
Jesus is Lord in South America!
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Business as Usual?
It was the day after the evening Passover celebration. That day before was ugly enough. Three men had been executed for their crimes. Roman executions are always ugly. But these men deserved it. Two were common thugs; good riddance to such scum! One was sentenced and executed for being "King of the Jews." For those Pharisees and Sadducees who so longed for Jesus' death, this title was a slap in the face. Even in his death Jesus defied them, the established authorities of the Jews.
But they were rid of the pest now. He is in the renegade Joseph's tomb. Yes, renegade. Joseph has jumped ships. He has declared himself to be a follower of this would-be Messiah.
For the tens of thousands who live in Jerusalem and the surrounding area, now it's business as usual. There is a big mess to clean up. Scraps from the Passover preparation need to be thrown out. Scores of carcasses have to be disposed of. Gehenna will burn hot for several days with all this garbage.
The leaders of the Sanhedrin sigh with guarded relief. Pilate has believed them and has placed a sizeable guard over the tomb of Jesus. They believe that if they make it one more day, then life will go on; it will be business as usual. Their great concern now is to repair the temple curtain, ripped from top to bottom. They think it was an earthquake that did it. There was an earthquake. If they had had eyes to see spiritual things, perhaps they would have seen the hands of God shaking the earth. Perhaps they would have seen angels of God grabbing that curtain on each side, and tearing it in two. But they did not; they could not see it. They are spiritually blind. For them, the business is cleaning up the ugly mess this man Jesus created.
Hidden away, out of sight of the rest of the world, are many frightened, confused disciples. Nothing has worked out like they thought it would. Their minds are riddled with questions. Where was God when Jesus was arrested? Where was God when Jesus was tried? Where was he when they nailed him to the cross? Didn't even Jesus cry out and ask why God had forsaken him? Where was he? Why didn't he stop this? Why did he let this happen to begin with? How can he be quiet while these miserable excuses for men go on, business as usual? Now nothing will be the same. Rumor has it that even Peter has gone back. Someone said he even denied Jesus.
In another realm, in another place, it is anything but business as usual. This Jesus is disturbing the established order. He is standing tall and strong. He is not bound! He is preaching to the entire realm of the dead. Those who walked by faith listen with joy. Those who walked in unrighteousness cringe in fear. Demons huddle, cowering. The one they conquered has actually conquered them. It can never be business as usual here ever again. Jesus has snatched up the keys of death. He has raised them high and, with a lion-like roar, declares victory over death's dark domain. It won't be long before Jesus is raised from the dead and demonstrates to his grieving friends and followers that God's plan was a perfect one. Now they can be freed from the chains that bind them. They can be empowered to follow Jesus like they said they wanted to.
Here we are, some 2,000 years later. We are watching the world around us. For too many, it is business as usual. They have never even been allowed to hear the name of Jesus. They are completely ignorant of who Jesus is, much less what he did for them. Life goes on. It is business as usual.
Others know something of this Jesus. They will even appear in some religious festival. Then they will disappear into their business. As usual. It won't even make a difference for them, other than perhaps appeasing their consciences for one more year.
What about us? What will this weekend mean for us? Will it be business as usual? Or will it become an opportunity to snatch someone from the kingdom of darkness? Or perhaps a time of intimate communion, sitting at the feet of our Master Jesus, just as Mary once did? Whatever it is, don't let it be business as usual.
But they were rid of the pest now. He is in the renegade Joseph's tomb. Yes, renegade. Joseph has jumped ships. He has declared himself to be a follower of this would-be Messiah.
For the tens of thousands who live in Jerusalem and the surrounding area, now it's business as usual. There is a big mess to clean up. Scraps from the Passover preparation need to be thrown out. Scores of carcasses have to be disposed of. Gehenna will burn hot for several days with all this garbage.
The leaders of the Sanhedrin sigh with guarded relief. Pilate has believed them and has placed a sizeable guard over the tomb of Jesus. They believe that if they make it one more day, then life will go on; it will be business as usual. Their great concern now is to repair the temple curtain, ripped from top to bottom. They think it was an earthquake that did it. There was an earthquake. If they had had eyes to see spiritual things, perhaps they would have seen the hands of God shaking the earth. Perhaps they would have seen angels of God grabbing that curtain on each side, and tearing it in two. But they did not; they could not see it. They are spiritually blind. For them, the business is cleaning up the ugly mess this man Jesus created.
Hidden away, out of sight of the rest of the world, are many frightened, confused disciples. Nothing has worked out like they thought it would. Their minds are riddled with questions. Where was God when Jesus was arrested? Where was God when Jesus was tried? Where was he when they nailed him to the cross? Didn't even Jesus cry out and ask why God had forsaken him? Where was he? Why didn't he stop this? Why did he let this happen to begin with? How can he be quiet while these miserable excuses for men go on, business as usual? Now nothing will be the same. Rumor has it that even Peter has gone back. Someone said he even denied Jesus.
In another realm, in another place, it is anything but business as usual. This Jesus is disturbing the established order. He is standing tall and strong. He is not bound! He is preaching to the entire realm of the dead. Those who walked by faith listen with joy. Those who walked in unrighteousness cringe in fear. Demons huddle, cowering. The one they conquered has actually conquered them. It can never be business as usual here ever again. Jesus has snatched up the keys of death. He has raised them high and, with a lion-like roar, declares victory over death's dark domain. It won't be long before Jesus is raised from the dead and demonstrates to his grieving friends and followers that God's plan was a perfect one. Now they can be freed from the chains that bind them. They can be empowered to follow Jesus like they said they wanted to.
Here we are, some 2,000 years later. We are watching the world around us. For too many, it is business as usual. They have never even been allowed to hear the name of Jesus. They are completely ignorant of who Jesus is, much less what he did for them. Life goes on. It is business as usual.
Others know something of this Jesus. They will even appear in some religious festival. Then they will disappear into their business. As usual. It won't even make a difference for them, other than perhaps appeasing their consciences for one more year.
What about us? What will this weekend mean for us? Will it be business as usual? Or will it become an opportunity to snatch someone from the kingdom of darkness? Or perhaps a time of intimate communion, sitting at the feet of our Master Jesus, just as Mary once did? Whatever it is, don't let it be business as usual.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Life as We Saw It, in Three Acts
I don't know how to describe the past two days. I have seen a little of everything, in terms of what you can see on the mission field in South America. I was moved by all of it. I was stirred beyond words. All I can do is try to carry you to a point you may be able to envision somewhat the scenes we not only witnessed, but participated in.
Yesterday began early, relatively speaking. We went to a new church. It is a traditional church, for what I could see. At least, the worship was traditional. We met in a converted garage. The pastor told me there were 76 present for worship. I do not know if that included me, my wife, and my daughter. I do not know if it included the little ones in the nursery, separated from us by a wall made of heavy nylon screen material. There the people loved us; they hugged us. They asked to have their photo taken with us. Seldom have we been greeted in that way. God moved in our midst. I could not say how many prayed to receive Christ at the public invitation. That is because as soon as they raised their hands to indicate they wanted to know Christ, counselors all over converged on them and took them into another part of the building. That alone was impressive to me. Equally impressive was the fact that this was their third Sunday to meet. They have grown from a dozen to over 75 in three weeks. What an exciting thing to witness!
At three I headed back to the southern part of our city. There, we seek to minister to a community called The Oasis. It is anything but that, believe me. The community of over 3,000 families was built upon a garbage dump, now covered in sand. Literally. Their houses are made of straw mats. The image above is one shot of those houses.
In the past week, the third section of this community have taken down their houses, brought in heavy equipment, and leveled much of the area. The result has been sad, in a way. Large sections of old garbage have surfaced. The area has an unpleasant stench of rotting garbage all around. There is no water. There is no electricity to speak of. Families who lived inside cubes made of straw now lay their mattresses on the garbage-infested ground. They erected makeshift tents made of one sheet of plastic or one section of matting. There the entire family sleeps. On one mattress. I showed up on this scene for the second time this week. I had hoped they would be back to "normal" by Sunday. I was wrong. They were frightened, even worried that they would lose their little plot of land.
God may use it for good. I was able to pray with over one hundred men and women, asking God to bless their endeavor to eke out a living in that small corner of the world.
Today I went to yet another community. It was not much better off than Oasis. They at least lived in houses made of thin plywood. That is better than straw mats. But this community is on a steep, barren hillside, at 1,100 feet above sea level; and the sea is only about 3 miles away. While I waited for the man I went to visit, I watched the community life go by. It was something to behold. As I looked out over the ravine at other communities in that area, I watched the water trucks make their way up the hill. They would blow their air horns, giving a long, loud blast that echoed across the rocks.
Soon one of the trucks made it to where I was. I went down to watch them unhook a hose and fill 40-gallon trash cans or barrels with water. To everyone's surprise, there was only enough water for one person. I asked what they would do. The ladies standing there told me that another truck might come later that day; otherwise they would have to wait till the next day and hope there was enough water then.
But there is a hitch to the water thing. The water is on ground level. Most of the houses are in rows above where the water truck deposited its water. The ladies and children had to come down the hillside with 5-gallon buckets to carry the water as much as 200 feet up the hill. But they are desperate for water. They have to carry it. They need it. It is life for them.
We are there because they need the water of life far more than they need the liquid stuff. My heart is burdened for them. There they are: hundreds of them. And they have no church. There is a small evangelical presence. But it is not felt. Few understand what it means to be born again.
In all three cases, we plead with the Lord of the Harvest for laborers. We long for them to know the true Lord. We dream of the day that they become water-bearers, bearing the water of life to others.
In all three cases we were reminded of the one singular truth that drives us: Jesus is Lord. And he loves these people enough that he died for them.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Vision
I have seen it; you have, too. We have seen someone's vision, as it plays out in life. I saw it last week on three different fronts. In one case, it was an old vision. In a second case, it was a new vision. In another case, it was a growing vision. Please let me explain.
In one case, as I wrote a few weeks ago, I was invited to preach at a traditonal church. It was the close to a month of missionary emphasis. I remember the church from years gone by. I remembered, as I sat there, the original vision of the founders of the church. The church was to have a particular focus; it was to reach a particular population segment of the city. That was way back in the late '80's and early '90's of last century. What happened? Did they accomplish their vision? They did not. The church began well, in terms of reaching its target group; but it has not continued well. More about that in a moment.
Last Sunday we snuck away to another church. It was amazing to see God at work. The founders of that church had a vision. The pastor had a vision, too. It was a continuation of the vision of the founders. The associate pastors had a vision. The laity involved in the nuts and bolts operation of the church also had a vision. And it moved forward, flourished, changed with the times, yet maintained its original concept. They actually tried to transplant this church's vision in other parts of the world. One of the original "visioneers" admitted that their attempts were not well-received.
During the week I had the privilege of attending the opening day of a local seminary. It's a new seminary. The truth is, I think many would call it a Bible institute; but that's not the point. The rector of this seminary pointed out their vision. Since the seminary is new, we can assume the vision is relatively new, too. At the present, the participants, both faculty and students, are pumped. And the seminary is operating according to the vision the rector proclaimed.
In each case, there was a vision in place. In one case, the original vision could not even be seen. In another, the original vision was in place, yet modified to accomodate the hour. In the third case, the jury is still out.
There is someting important that stands out to me: carrying out a vision is hard work! The first church I mentioned did not lose its vision; it was just too hard to continue that vision. It was easier to allow the vision to quietly disappear and to allow the church to become whatever it could become. When the founders left, instead of seeking like-minded leadership, those present accepted whatever came along (don't take that in terms of doctrine, only in terms of vision). So the original vision eventually died. As in the case of the Hebrews in Egypt, "There arose a pharaoh who did not know Joseph." When one visits that church now, aside from its location, there is no evidence of the original vision. They do not reach the original target population segment. They are so far-removed from that original target group, that only a miraculous move of God would make it possible.
In the second case, the founders' orginal vision is still operating, but growing. The pastors have worked hard to continue the vision, but with the proper adjustments to be able to communicate the vision in today's realities. This church is actually older than the first church I mentioned. Yet it is far more vibrant, looks and feels less tradtional, and has an influence that reaches far and wide. They keep things simple, yet they work very hard to keep things flowing (in accordance with the Holy Spirit's presence, as well as their vision).
Something else is obvious to me: when vision is not communicated often and in the simplest of terms, it tends to degenerate. Look at today's church. Everywhere we turn, someone is lamenting today's church. Someone bemoans the fact that today's church doesn look anything like what they believe the church looked in the days of the Apostles. In other words, the original vision degenerated and something else took its place.
Someone once told me that such programs as Evangelism Explosion or Continuing Witness Training have a life of three generations. They degrade after the second one. Why would that be? Answer: the workers tend to fail to communicate the original vision. I think that is one reason why "new" programs are invented.
We are speaking a lot on different blogs about simplifying the church. That's fine. I won't argue that point either way. I will say this: whatever form the church takes, if it is to be effective, the church's vision should be simple, communicated simply, and the leaders must work hard to ensure that all they do fits within that vision.
In one case, as I wrote a few weeks ago, I was invited to preach at a traditonal church. It was the close to a month of missionary emphasis. I remember the church from years gone by. I remembered, as I sat there, the original vision of the founders of the church. The church was to have a particular focus; it was to reach a particular population segment of the city. That was way back in the late '80's and early '90's of last century. What happened? Did they accomplish their vision? They did not. The church began well, in terms of reaching its target group; but it has not continued well. More about that in a moment.
Last Sunday we snuck away to another church. It was amazing to see God at work. The founders of that church had a vision. The pastor had a vision, too. It was a continuation of the vision of the founders. The associate pastors had a vision. The laity involved in the nuts and bolts operation of the church also had a vision. And it moved forward, flourished, changed with the times, yet maintained its original concept. They actually tried to transplant this church's vision in other parts of the world. One of the original "visioneers" admitted that their attempts were not well-received.
During the week I had the privilege of attending the opening day of a local seminary. It's a new seminary. The truth is, I think many would call it a Bible institute; but that's not the point. The rector of this seminary pointed out their vision. Since the seminary is new, we can assume the vision is relatively new, too. At the present, the participants, both faculty and students, are pumped. And the seminary is operating according to the vision the rector proclaimed.
In each case, there was a vision in place. In one case, the original vision could not even be seen. In another, the original vision was in place, yet modified to accomodate the hour. In the third case, the jury is still out.
There is someting important that stands out to me: carrying out a vision is hard work! The first church I mentioned did not lose its vision; it was just too hard to continue that vision. It was easier to allow the vision to quietly disappear and to allow the church to become whatever it could become. When the founders left, instead of seeking like-minded leadership, those present accepted whatever came along (don't take that in terms of doctrine, only in terms of vision). So the original vision eventually died. As in the case of the Hebrews in Egypt, "There arose a pharaoh who did not know Joseph." When one visits that church now, aside from its location, there is no evidence of the original vision. They do not reach the original target population segment. They are so far-removed from that original target group, that only a miraculous move of God would make it possible.
In the second case, the founders' orginal vision is still operating, but growing. The pastors have worked hard to continue the vision, but with the proper adjustments to be able to communicate the vision in today's realities. This church is actually older than the first church I mentioned. Yet it is far more vibrant, looks and feels less tradtional, and has an influence that reaches far and wide. They keep things simple, yet they work very hard to keep things flowing (in accordance with the Holy Spirit's presence, as well as their vision).
Something else is obvious to me: when vision is not communicated often and in the simplest of terms, it tends to degenerate. Look at today's church. Everywhere we turn, someone is lamenting today's church. Someone bemoans the fact that today's church doesn look anything like what they believe the church looked in the days of the Apostles. In other words, the original vision degenerated and something else took its place.
Someone once told me that such programs as Evangelism Explosion or Continuing Witness Training have a life of three generations. They degrade after the second one. Why would that be? Answer: the workers tend to fail to communicate the original vision. I think that is one reason why "new" programs are invented.
We are speaking a lot on different blogs about simplifying the church. That's fine. I won't argue that point either way. I will say this: whatever form the church takes, if it is to be effective, the church's vision should be simple, communicated simply, and the leaders must work hard to ensure that all they do fits within that vision.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Twenty-nine Years and Counting
March 12th was my 29th anniversary in the Christian ministry. It came and went without fanfare, only a realization that time flies, whether you are having fun or not.
It has been an exciting 29 years. I have seen some of everything.
I have been blessed to see scores repent and turn to Jesus in one meeting. I have been blessed to see revival and spiritual awakening in a sleepy community in South Mississippi. Yes, it was such a powerful thing that men and women would break out weeping when they saw me drive up with my chosen evangelist for the week; they would tell us how all day and night God dealt with their hearts and how they had hoped we would come by.
I watched God perform miracles of healing, of answered prayers for rain during a drought, of salvation for the most recalcitrant of men that I had ever seen.
I have been blessed to preach on two sides of the equator. I have enjoyed watching new believers from at least three countries open the word and discover for the first time the wondrous riches of God's word.
I have stood in communities where men and women had never seen a foreigner before (especially one as pale as I am). I have watched them wrestle with the gospel of Jesus Christ, before finally surrendering to him.
I have seen spiritual victory and suffered spiritual defeat. I have been on the proverbial mountaintop and sunk into the lowest valley. I have shouted in joyful glory of the overwhelming presence of the Holy Spirit; and I have shrieked in painful demonic attack, when it seemed that God had hidden his face.
We have suffered death, robberies, rejection, and who can remember what else? We walked through the wreckage of a downed airliner, searching for the remains of a fellow missionary. We wept with others and laughed with many more.
For most of my 29 years, I have been a voice crying in a desert--quite literally. Most of the places I have lived since 1989 have been cities in a desert in South America. There, God has taught me much. There, God has sustained me and my family.
There we were, as we watched our children grow; there we learned our first grandchild had died. There we learned the simple lesson that Jesus will never leave us ,or fail us, or abandon us.
If I live another 29 years, I hope they are at least as exciting as the last 29 have been.
May God give you as much joy and fruit--and more--as he has given me!
It has been an exciting 29 years. I have seen some of everything.
I have been blessed to see scores repent and turn to Jesus in one meeting. I have been blessed to see revival and spiritual awakening in a sleepy community in South Mississippi. Yes, it was such a powerful thing that men and women would break out weeping when they saw me drive up with my chosen evangelist for the week; they would tell us how all day and night God dealt with their hearts and how they had hoped we would come by.
I watched God perform miracles of healing, of answered prayers for rain during a drought, of salvation for the most recalcitrant of men that I had ever seen.
I have been blessed to preach on two sides of the equator. I have enjoyed watching new believers from at least three countries open the word and discover for the first time the wondrous riches of God's word.
I have stood in communities where men and women had never seen a foreigner before (especially one as pale as I am). I have watched them wrestle with the gospel of Jesus Christ, before finally surrendering to him.
I have seen spiritual victory and suffered spiritual defeat. I have been on the proverbial mountaintop and sunk into the lowest valley. I have shouted in joyful glory of the overwhelming presence of the Holy Spirit; and I have shrieked in painful demonic attack, when it seemed that God had hidden his face.
We have suffered death, robberies, rejection, and who can remember what else? We walked through the wreckage of a downed airliner, searching for the remains of a fellow missionary. We wept with others and laughed with many more.
For most of my 29 years, I have been a voice crying in a desert--quite literally. Most of the places I have lived since 1989 have been cities in a desert in South America. There, God has taught me much. There, God has sustained me and my family.
There we were, as we watched our children grow; there we learned our first grandchild had died. There we learned the simple lesson that Jesus will never leave us ,or fail us, or abandon us.
If I live another 29 years, I hope they are at least as exciting as the last 29 have been.
May God give you as much joy and fruit--and more--as he has given me!
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Traditional or Simple?
Today I am going to take my family to a church where I have been asked to preach a missions mobilization challenge. It's a traditional church. I was present for some of the original meetings of this church when we first arrived in South America. Now it is moving ahead at its own pace, hopefully under the power of the Holy Spirit.
But, as most of my missionary colleagues who may read this know, traditional churches can be cumbersome. They move slowly. The reproduce (start other churches) at the speed of sound traveling through a tar pit. Traditional churches spend more on themselves and less on reaching others. This particular church is going on 20 years old. I think they have been involved in one other church start, maybe two. And one of those is still a preaching point--a mission that has been in existence for about 5 years. As I said, reproduction is slow.
What is the answer? Guy Muse and his team, in Ecuador, have found house churches to be functional. That's good.
Others have found cell churches to be the answer. That's good, too.
The obvious thing is this: the church in South America needs to assume a simplified form if it is to reproduce rapidly. It needs the least common denominator of life in a given community.
The church needs obedience-based discipleship. They need to be reminded that they are to DO those things that Jesus commands them, as opposed to just learn them.
The church needs empowered leadership. In traditional churches the established, formal leadership often fails to empower the informal leaders of the church. This gross failure costs the church in too many ways, especially when it comes to planting new churches.
And the church needs to rise to the expectation that they are to be intentional church planters. That's part of that "doing" thing I mentioned above.
If you can think of other things, feel free to tag it on.
Jesus is Lord!
But, as most of my missionary colleagues who may read this know, traditional churches can be cumbersome. They move slowly. The reproduce (start other churches) at the speed of sound traveling through a tar pit. Traditional churches spend more on themselves and less on reaching others. This particular church is going on 20 years old. I think they have been involved in one other church start, maybe two. And one of those is still a preaching point--a mission that has been in existence for about 5 years. As I said, reproduction is slow.
What is the answer? Guy Muse and his team, in Ecuador, have found house churches to be functional. That's good.
Others have found cell churches to be the answer. That's good, too.
The obvious thing is this: the church in South America needs to assume a simplified form if it is to reproduce rapidly. It needs the least common denominator of life in a given community.
The church needs obedience-based discipleship. They need to be reminded that they are to DO those things that Jesus commands them, as opposed to just learn them.
The church needs empowered leadership. In traditional churches the established, formal leadership often fails to empower the informal leaders of the church. This gross failure costs the church in too many ways, especially when it comes to planting new churches.
And the church needs to rise to the expectation that they are to be intentional church planters. That's part of that "doing" thing I mentioned above.
If you can think of other things, feel free to tag it on.
Jesus is Lord!
Thursday, March 01, 2007
He's Alive!
I've been too busy to visit my own blog, and those blogs that I try to read each week. That's not bad; that's good. It's all for the glory of the King. The King of whom I speak is none other than King Jesus. I have news for those rejoicing in James Cameron's latest boast that he found Jesus' real tomb, along with the coffins of his wife and child: Jesus is alive! And he is King. And he was not in the least distracted by Satan's latest messengers.
On the contrary, King Jesus has been occupied. He has been interceding for all believers, even those whose faith may have been temporarily shaken by Cameron's insistence that he found Jesus' real tomb and "bone box." He has been moving people from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light. Just last Sunday I saw him do that. I watched as a young lady wrestled with her lostness until she finally turned to the only one who could save her. And he did, so far as I could tell.
King Jesus has been busy calling out men and women who will go and share the good news about him in all kinds of lands. He knows the prince of this world wants to hold as many captives as he can. But King Jesus sends out messengers, too. And they share the wonder-working power of Jesus with others.
King Jesus has been busy encouraging his discouraged workers (yes, missionaries often fight discouragement). He urges them to look to him and keep a steadfast gaze upon him.
There are plenty out there who will delight in Mr. Cameron's recent repeat of an age-old lie. There are plenty who wish Jesus was really dead; after all, if he was dead, they could put away those nagging doubts about eternity that plague them. If Jesus is alive, however--and he is, then those who reject Jesus have to grapple with their eternal destiny outside of Jesus' kingdom.
But, if you are not a believer in Jesus, I am so sorry (not really) to tell you that Jesus really is alive. He did not just ascend spiritually, as some say. He died for our sins, he was buried, and he was raised bodily from the dead. Over five hundred were gathered together and saw him alive. He appeared to many, many others. The legal witness of his resurrection outweighs Mr. Cameron's ossuaries.
If you are not a follower of Jesus, what you need to do is turn your life over to him. You need to repent of your unbelief and your sinful ways, and you need to invite Jesus to be the master of your life.
If you are a follower of Jesus, ignore the claims of a madman. Don't let Satan shake your faith by a misguided producer and a rogue archeologist.
If you have misunderstood me, I say it again:
KING JESUS IS ALIVE!
On the contrary, King Jesus has been occupied. He has been interceding for all believers, even those whose faith may have been temporarily shaken by Cameron's insistence that he found Jesus' real tomb and "bone box." He has been moving people from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light. Just last Sunday I saw him do that. I watched as a young lady wrestled with her lostness until she finally turned to the only one who could save her. And he did, so far as I could tell.
King Jesus has been busy calling out men and women who will go and share the good news about him in all kinds of lands. He knows the prince of this world wants to hold as many captives as he can. But King Jesus sends out messengers, too. And they share the wonder-working power of Jesus with others.
King Jesus has been busy encouraging his discouraged workers (yes, missionaries often fight discouragement). He urges them to look to him and keep a steadfast gaze upon him.
There are plenty out there who will delight in Mr. Cameron's recent repeat of an age-old lie. There are plenty who wish Jesus was really dead; after all, if he was dead, they could put away those nagging doubts about eternity that plague them. If Jesus is alive, however--and he is, then those who reject Jesus have to grapple with their eternal destiny outside of Jesus' kingdom.
But, if you are not a believer in Jesus, I am so sorry (not really) to tell you that Jesus really is alive. He did not just ascend spiritually, as some say. He died for our sins, he was buried, and he was raised bodily from the dead. Over five hundred were gathered together and saw him alive. He appeared to many, many others. The legal witness of his resurrection outweighs Mr. Cameron's ossuaries.
If you are not a follower of Jesus, what you need to do is turn your life over to him. You need to repent of your unbelief and your sinful ways, and you need to invite Jesus to be the master of your life.
If you are a follower of Jesus, ignore the claims of a madman. Don't let Satan shake your faith by a misguided producer and a rogue archeologist.
If you have misunderstood me, I say it again:
KING JESUS IS ALIVE!
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Living Sacrifices
I intended to write this from high in the Andes Mountains. I was at a conference in a mountain town of about 60 thousand. Time conspired against me. Or maybe it was divine intervention that slowed me down.
I learned something about sacrifice in the past several days. It was one of those observation lessons. I may have sacrificed something by traveling to 4 different places in a three-week period; but compared to what I saw, my little bit of sacrifice was nothing at all. Half of my travel was by land, the other half by air. When I was traveling by land, I was in an air-conditioned, smooth-riding vehicle. The little walking I had to do was for short distances. I slept in a comfortable bed. I had good meals. All I really "lost" was a little sleep and time with my wife and daughter.
But I saw men and women who paid the price to be in two of the conferences in which I participated. Some traveled precarious roads in busses that are famous for their unpredictable, and at times unsafe, trips. Some of them traveled for 35 grueling hours to be fed the word of God. Some walked great distances. All stayed in housing that provided basic shelter, but little else.
One man I taught in a conference I led last week stands out in my mind. He is a fisherman. He has to get up every single day before 4 so he can get to work by 5. Yet there he was, showing up for the conference every night at 7. I did not feed them anything more than a soft drink and cookies. He stayed with us till 10, before he and the rest of the group left together for their 2-hour ride back to their houses. That means he got to bed at midnight, was up at 4, and back with me at 7. He told me he could do it every day, if it meant growing in his faith.
So I had to ask myself, "When is the last time I was willing to live on 3 or 4 hours' sleep and no food to glorify the Lord?" When was the last time you were willing to take a 35-hour trip for the glory of God? What sacrifice will you make this next week? When you attend your worship services, will you have heating and cooling at your disposal? Will your pews be contoured and prepared to make your experience a delightful one? Will you even think it was worth sitting there while someone struggled to break through the barnacles the world attached to your soul, and feed you a half cup of the word of God? [Yes! Half a cup! Because too many of us get full too quickly for a full meal of the word.] How many meals have you missed so that you could feed from the Master's table?
Thank God for the sacrifices my Latin American brothers and sisters are willing to make to be fed! These men and women embodied some of Romans 12: 1--the living sacrifice. They seem to better understand what "the fellowship of His sufferings (Phil. 3:10)" means. May we be humbled and so ready to sacrifice for Christ's glory!
I learned something about sacrifice in the past several days. It was one of those observation lessons. I may have sacrificed something by traveling to 4 different places in a three-week period; but compared to what I saw, my little bit of sacrifice was nothing at all. Half of my travel was by land, the other half by air. When I was traveling by land, I was in an air-conditioned, smooth-riding vehicle. The little walking I had to do was for short distances. I slept in a comfortable bed. I had good meals. All I really "lost" was a little sleep and time with my wife and daughter.
But I saw men and women who paid the price to be in two of the conferences in which I participated. Some traveled precarious roads in busses that are famous for their unpredictable, and at times unsafe, trips. Some of them traveled for 35 grueling hours to be fed the word of God. Some walked great distances. All stayed in housing that provided basic shelter, but little else.
One man I taught in a conference I led last week stands out in my mind. He is a fisherman. He has to get up every single day before 4 so he can get to work by 5. Yet there he was, showing up for the conference every night at 7. I did not feed them anything more than a soft drink and cookies. He stayed with us till 10, before he and the rest of the group left together for their 2-hour ride back to their houses. That means he got to bed at midnight, was up at 4, and back with me at 7. He told me he could do it every day, if it meant growing in his faith.
So I had to ask myself, "When is the last time I was willing to live on 3 or 4 hours' sleep and no food to glorify the Lord?" When was the last time you were willing to take a 35-hour trip for the glory of God? What sacrifice will you make this next week? When you attend your worship services, will you have heating and cooling at your disposal? Will your pews be contoured and prepared to make your experience a delightful one? Will you even think it was worth sitting there while someone struggled to break through the barnacles the world attached to your soul, and feed you a half cup of the word of God? [Yes! Half a cup! Because too many of us get full too quickly for a full meal of the word.] How many meals have you missed so that you could feed from the Master's table?
Thank God for the sacrifices my Latin American brothers and sisters are willing to make to be fed! These men and women embodied some of Romans 12: 1--the living sacrifice. They seem to better understand what "the fellowship of His sufferings (Phil. 3:10)" means. May we be humbled and so ready to sacrifice for Christ's glory!
Thursday, January 18, 2007
On Being Light
Yesterday an IMB media team and I road the streets of this megacity in South America. We walked among the destitute and lonely. We laughed with little children. We hugged and kissed the residents of two different communities. We looked for ways to be the light Jesus told us we were.
While both places we spoke with people were delightful, I was particularly impressed with one area where some of my colleagues work. I am their supervisor. It was my first visit to this new preaching point. Spiritually speaking it was a dark place to visit. I discerned this as soon as we stepped out of the relative safety of our Mercedes Benz van.
The media team and I stood on the streets, observing the residents of the community. It was a bitter-sweet sight. To our left stood ramshackle huts that the residents called "home." In front stood a newly-painted church, the building of the predominant religion; it was surrounded by run-down buildings people used for other homes and businesses. Children rode bikes and roller-bladed in the streets, not worrying much about cars because few could afford one. And those who could would not venture into such a neighborhood. Men and women of all ages sat on park benches in the small, unkempt park we approached. The trees were beautiful; the grass was in sore need of a good ole Yazoo lawnmower (pardon my Mississippi roots).
One cameraman rolled film. Another photographer snapped photos. Another group took notes as I explained the history of our involvement there. Soon a policeman approached, as I watched a tattoo-covered youth stroll by, staring with a hard look. The policeman told me we were being scoped out and that we were in danger. I told him I had seen the potential trouble-makers and appreciated his interest in us. He assured us they were there to help. When I translated this to my group of American visitors, they decided we should pray. I told them I agreed, but that I would be praying with my eyes wide-open. After all, thieves use the element of surprise; and I don't handle surprises very well.
We decided to leave the place of darkness. But I wasn't quite finished. I took a couple of steps toward three people sitting on a park bench. I greeted them, told them who I was and what I did, and asked if they had ever encountered my two colleagues, a husband and wife, who labored there. When I described them, they told me they knew who they were. I asked if they would do me the kindness of taking care of them, of not letting anything bad happen to them when they came. In the course of this conversation, God opened a door for me and I began to preach on the light and hope that is in Jesus.
I looked intently into the eyes of the man. He was amused, perhaps even mocking me with his eyes. I looked more closely at the woman at his side. The scratches and bruises on her face suggested that this man was probably abusive. The fear in her eyes, the deep hurt I saw, said even more. I looked to the young lady beside her. She tried to look non-chalant, cool, unattached; but you can't hide from the Holy Spirit. He was tugging at her heart, too. The more I gazed at her, the less confidence she showed.
I turned to my left. There sat tattoo-man, perched on a bicycle. On the seat behind him was another man scowling ever so fiercely. Before I knew it, about twenty people--men, women, and children--were gathered around me. The police were now very concerned. They sent two motorcycles and one car over towards us, motors running. I kept on preaching, telling this instant congregation of the one true hope they have in Jesus.
I looked at tattoo-man and saw two words inscribed on his right bicep: amor eterno--eternal love. I reached over and did the unthinkable. I touched those two words as I told them those words were exactly what I was referring to. Tattoo-man's eyes opened wide in surprise. A touch will do that, you know. A touch will bring people to a different level. The hard, suspicious look melted away. He grinned; it was a genuine smile. Something else happened, too. When he smiled, the police drove away. My suspicions were confirmed; he was their chief concern.
My chief concern was the darkness that enveloped tattoo-man and the others. I kept preaching, pleading for them to turn to Jesus. I helped them to pray, but everyone here prays. So I had to explain that they would find Jesus when they searched with their whole heart. Even tattoo-man nodded in agreement.
We turned to leave. I discovered most of my media team was standing close by the van that brought us there. My cameraman was still by my side, grinning a million-dollar grin. He felt what I felt. He knew we had shined the light in the darkness. As we left, we shook hands, hugged, and kissed the residents. They waved a friendly wave. The man with fierce scowl? He just grinned and said in English, "Thank you."
I cannot say this prophetically; but I believe we saw the birth of a church yesterday. And it happened just by being light in a dark place.
While both places we spoke with people were delightful, I was particularly impressed with one area where some of my colleagues work. I am their supervisor. It was my first visit to this new preaching point. Spiritually speaking it was a dark place to visit. I discerned this as soon as we stepped out of the relative safety of our Mercedes Benz van.
The media team and I stood on the streets, observing the residents of the community. It was a bitter-sweet sight. To our left stood ramshackle huts that the residents called "home." In front stood a newly-painted church, the building of the predominant religion; it was surrounded by run-down buildings people used for other homes and businesses. Children rode bikes and roller-bladed in the streets, not worrying much about cars because few could afford one. And those who could would not venture into such a neighborhood. Men and women of all ages sat on park benches in the small, unkempt park we approached. The trees were beautiful; the grass was in sore need of a good ole Yazoo lawnmower (pardon my Mississippi roots).
One cameraman rolled film. Another photographer snapped photos. Another group took notes as I explained the history of our involvement there. Soon a policeman approached, as I watched a tattoo-covered youth stroll by, staring with a hard look. The policeman told me we were being scoped out and that we were in danger. I told him I had seen the potential trouble-makers and appreciated his interest in us. He assured us they were there to help. When I translated this to my group of American visitors, they decided we should pray. I told them I agreed, but that I would be praying with my eyes wide-open. After all, thieves use the element of surprise; and I don't handle surprises very well.
We decided to leave the place of darkness. But I wasn't quite finished. I took a couple of steps toward three people sitting on a park bench. I greeted them, told them who I was and what I did, and asked if they had ever encountered my two colleagues, a husband and wife, who labored there. When I described them, they told me they knew who they were. I asked if they would do me the kindness of taking care of them, of not letting anything bad happen to them when they came. In the course of this conversation, God opened a door for me and I began to preach on the light and hope that is in Jesus.
I looked intently into the eyes of the man. He was amused, perhaps even mocking me with his eyes. I looked more closely at the woman at his side. The scratches and bruises on her face suggested that this man was probably abusive. The fear in her eyes, the deep hurt I saw, said even more. I looked to the young lady beside her. She tried to look non-chalant, cool, unattached; but you can't hide from the Holy Spirit. He was tugging at her heart, too. The more I gazed at her, the less confidence she showed.
I turned to my left. There sat tattoo-man, perched on a bicycle. On the seat behind him was another man scowling ever so fiercely. Before I knew it, about twenty people--men, women, and children--were gathered around me. The police were now very concerned. They sent two motorcycles and one car over towards us, motors running. I kept on preaching, telling this instant congregation of the one true hope they have in Jesus.
I looked at tattoo-man and saw two words inscribed on his right bicep: amor eterno--eternal love. I reached over and did the unthinkable. I touched those two words as I told them those words were exactly what I was referring to. Tattoo-man's eyes opened wide in surprise. A touch will do that, you know. A touch will bring people to a different level. The hard, suspicious look melted away. He grinned; it was a genuine smile. Something else happened, too. When he smiled, the police drove away. My suspicions were confirmed; he was their chief concern.
My chief concern was the darkness that enveloped tattoo-man and the others. I kept preaching, pleading for them to turn to Jesus. I helped them to pray, but everyone here prays. So I had to explain that they would find Jesus when they searched with their whole heart. Even tattoo-man nodded in agreement.
We turned to leave. I discovered most of my media team was standing close by the van that brought us there. My cameraman was still by my side, grinning a million-dollar grin. He felt what I felt. He knew we had shined the light in the darkness. As we left, we shook hands, hugged, and kissed the residents. They waved a friendly wave. The man with fierce scowl? He just grinned and said in English, "Thank you."
I cannot say this prophetically; but I believe we saw the birth of a church yesterday. And it happened just by being light in a dark place.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Make the Main Thing the Main Thing
Happy New Year. Once I discovered how to persuade my newly-installed internet filter to allow me to access blogs, I proceeded to read some that I particularly enjoy. One of those blogs presented an interesting apologetic regarding the direction of the SBC (I intentionally left out the name and address of that blog). As I waded through this man's observations, I kept coming back to a fundamental problem, one that supercedes the potential ones that I read about.
The problem that prevails in my mind is the fact that far too many Southern Baptist churches did not baptize anyone last year. Far too many more only baptized a handful. Here is what I see and think: the local churches have fallen out of love with Jesus. I am not convinced a man is called to a church to make that church appealing to his community. We are in a struggle against the darkness, against the world. A pastor is not around to make his church attractive to the world. He is called to a church to lead that church to win the lost, disciple those converts, to expand the kingdom of God through missions, and to glorify the King of kings. He is called to be salt and light, and to fill the salt shaker so that more of that salt can be scattered around the world.
That impacts me down here in South America far more than some may realize. At some point in the next 15 years, someone will be called upon to take my place. If we are not winning more, who will come stand in the gap in places where the gospel has yet to take root?
I believe that one of the many things that must take place in the SBC is a renewed passion for Jesus, which will result in a renewed passion for the lost. When David should have gone to battle, he stayed behind. The result was his sin with Bathsheba. When Southern Baptists should be going to battle for lost souls, we are spending a lot of time inspecting one another's baggage. Nothing positive will come of it.
I appreciate and share the concerns for the best future for the SBC. But let's get on with making the main thing the main thing.
The problem that prevails in my mind is the fact that far too many Southern Baptist churches did not baptize anyone last year. Far too many more only baptized a handful. Here is what I see and think: the local churches have fallen out of love with Jesus. I am not convinced a man is called to a church to make that church appealing to his community. We are in a struggle against the darkness, against the world. A pastor is not around to make his church attractive to the world. He is called to a church to lead that church to win the lost, disciple those converts, to expand the kingdom of God through missions, and to glorify the King of kings. He is called to be salt and light, and to fill the salt shaker so that more of that salt can be scattered around the world.
That impacts me down here in South America far more than some may realize. At some point in the next 15 years, someone will be called upon to take my place. If we are not winning more, who will come stand in the gap in places where the gospel has yet to take root?
I believe that one of the many things that must take place in the SBC is a renewed passion for Jesus, which will result in a renewed passion for the lost. When David should have gone to battle, he stayed behind. The result was his sin with Bathsheba. When Southern Baptists should be going to battle for lost souls, we are spending a lot of time inspecting one another's baggage. Nothing positive will come of it.
I appreciate and share the concerns for the best future for the SBC. But let's get on with making the main thing the main thing.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Don't Look Back!
The frightened family packed up in the middle of the night. They could only get out with what they could carry, nothing more. The messenger gave them one stern warning: don't look back. In the bedlam and meelee surrounding them, the four of them wormed their way to the edge of the city. There were no cars to be found. There was no bus to take. This family would have to walk. Onward they trudged, fumbling and stumbling down the unlit road.
Before long, the family heard the commotion behind them. They heard the horrid screams as men, women, and children died under the fire bombs that pelted the city. When they hesitated for a moment, Dad suddenly rebuked the family, "Don't look back!" As they maneuvered through the darkness, the nameless wife and mother could stand it no more. She had to look. Most of her life had been invested in that city. Her friends were there. Her house was there. Her furnishings were there. So she dared look back. And in that one instance of regret, Lot's wife became a pillar of salt, forever frozen in time. Why? Because she craved and delighted in what she no longer had. And it cost her. It cost her two daughters. It cost her husband.
To my knowledge, that scene has never again been repeated. But how many times do we look back with remorse over what we had, not taking time to take stock and think about what we have?
Many among Israel, those who left Egypt with Moses, looked back with longing for the flesh pots of Egypt. It was symbolic of craving the sinful life. They died, wandering in a wilderness never intended for them.
Jesus said that a man, having put his hand to the plow and looking back, is not a worthy disciple; he said that man is not even fit for the kingdom of God (Luke 9:62).
That is looking back with remorse. There are those who also look back with delight. Paul wrote of this in Philippians 3. He spoke of all he had before he knew the Lord. He spoke, correctly so, of his bragging rights. Then he said he would forget that which was behind and press forward. Sometimes that is incomprehensible to me. Other times I think I can grasp a little of it.
One of my friends was driving my wife and girls to the airport one day. As he turned to the right at the corner, a bag in the back seat began to totter towards one of the passengers. He looked back while he turned, grasped the bag, and tried to right it. He forgot he was turning a corner. The truck continued right; this is a mechanical law regarding steering wheels. Much to my friend's dismay, the journey was suddenly interrupted by a large tree that stood in the way of the truck. Now to be fair to the tree, it was on the sidewalk. To be fair to the sidewalk, it did not extend into the right-hand lane. It is what happens when you drive while you are looking back. That is looking back with carelessness.
I know a Christian woman who had one story to tell me each time I visited her. She was in her 60's by then. She still had a lot of physical and emotional strength; just ask her family. Yet, when it came to spiritual things, this woman could only look back. She could only tell me what she used to do some 30 years earlier. She had not done anything since then. I wanted to shout to her, "Don't look back!"
What does that have to do with missions somewhere in South America? It's kind of simple, perhaps too much so. Some of us have bragging rights. We have done well. We have seen a lot of professions of faith; we have planted some churches. We could be tempted to relax and rest on what we have done. If we are wise, we won't look back.
Others of us did not do too well, if you measured things statistically. We tried; but, based on some definition of "success," we were anything but successful. If we look back, we could be tempted to discouragement. We could succumb to those voices that accuse us of failure. If we are wise, we won't look back.
Where should we look? Wherever Jesus is! Look there. Fix your vision on him. And go where he says to go. You may not turn into a pillar of salt by looking back; but you could find yourself running into a tree. So don't look back!
Before long, the family heard the commotion behind them. They heard the horrid screams as men, women, and children died under the fire bombs that pelted the city. When they hesitated for a moment, Dad suddenly rebuked the family, "Don't look back!" As they maneuvered through the darkness, the nameless wife and mother could stand it no more. She had to look. Most of her life had been invested in that city. Her friends were there. Her house was there. Her furnishings were there. So she dared look back. And in that one instance of regret, Lot's wife became a pillar of salt, forever frozen in time. Why? Because she craved and delighted in what she no longer had. And it cost her. It cost her two daughters. It cost her husband.
To my knowledge, that scene has never again been repeated. But how many times do we look back with remorse over what we had, not taking time to take stock and think about what we have?
Many among Israel, those who left Egypt with Moses, looked back with longing for the flesh pots of Egypt. It was symbolic of craving the sinful life. They died, wandering in a wilderness never intended for them.
Jesus said that a man, having put his hand to the plow and looking back, is not a worthy disciple; he said that man is not even fit for the kingdom of God (Luke 9:62).
That is looking back with remorse. There are those who also look back with delight. Paul wrote of this in Philippians 3. He spoke of all he had before he knew the Lord. He spoke, correctly so, of his bragging rights. Then he said he would forget that which was behind and press forward. Sometimes that is incomprehensible to me. Other times I think I can grasp a little of it.
One of my friends was driving my wife and girls to the airport one day. As he turned to the right at the corner, a bag in the back seat began to totter towards one of the passengers. He looked back while he turned, grasped the bag, and tried to right it. He forgot he was turning a corner. The truck continued right; this is a mechanical law regarding steering wheels. Much to my friend's dismay, the journey was suddenly interrupted by a large tree that stood in the way of the truck. Now to be fair to the tree, it was on the sidewalk. To be fair to the sidewalk, it did not extend into the right-hand lane. It is what happens when you drive while you are looking back. That is looking back with carelessness.
I know a Christian woman who had one story to tell me each time I visited her. She was in her 60's by then. She still had a lot of physical and emotional strength; just ask her family. Yet, when it came to spiritual things, this woman could only look back. She could only tell me what she used to do some 30 years earlier. She had not done anything since then. I wanted to shout to her, "Don't look back!"
What does that have to do with missions somewhere in South America? It's kind of simple, perhaps too much so. Some of us have bragging rights. We have done well. We have seen a lot of professions of faith; we have planted some churches. We could be tempted to relax and rest on what we have done. If we are wise, we won't look back.
Others of us did not do too well, if you measured things statistically. We tried; but, based on some definition of "success," we were anything but successful. If we look back, we could be tempted to discouragement. We could succumb to those voices that accuse us of failure. If we are wise, we won't look back.
Where should we look? Wherever Jesus is! Look there. Fix your vision on him. And go where he says to go. You may not turn into a pillar of salt by looking back; but you could find yourself running into a tree. So don't look back!
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