I stepped into Main Street after my team meeting for coffee and lunch. My former co-worker Beth was standing behind the counter and provided a smile when she spotted me.
"Good morning, miss," I greeted.
She replied, "Did you forget my name already?"
I've been referring to unmarried ladies as "miss" since I reached maturity myself. I like the sound of it. My female campers were "miss." My female math students were "miss." My younger co-workers were "miss." I know that we live in a culture and among a generation averse to terms of endearment or respect, but I feel that when I call someone "miss," it should be understood that I consider her a lady.
[But then, I have a resident that only calls me "sir" when she is growing impatient and demanding. When did the connotation of these terms become derogatory? I missed something...]
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
finding peace in uncertainty
Sometime in the next six months, there's a very good chance that I may lose my job. Our state government (the one so "concerned" with life) may cut our funding by 33%, even though our regulations auditor came in and said that he had never seen a more impressive therapy program in residential. Our people will likely sue the state to claim foul on such a backbreaking reduction, and the courts will decide our fate as an organization. In the meantime, I am to perform my duties as if my job -- more importantly, these kids' home -- is not in jeopardy.
You know what? I'm not worried about it. It's not a lack of concern based on ignorance; I know all the facts. I know that if He would rather these kids be in treatment than in a foster home, that He'll do His thing. But on a more personal note, God is teaching me that this vessel does not find its usefulness based on the role or target of its ministry.
Three years ago, I was perfectly content being the vessel of light to a coffeehouse filled with unbelieving people. And I loved them more than anyone I had loved before. I had worked hard to earn their respect through the manner Paul suggests to Titus: by living a self-controlled, diligent, and honorable lifestyle that would shame those that would accuse me of doing otherwise. I can walk into Picasso's and generate the same respect from my employer and co-workers. But as God called me from that place in the summer of 2009, I wrestled with one giant insecurity: not a single one of them was saved.
Is it irresponsible to move forward when I do not receive the "fruits of my labor"? I once thought this was so. When I prepared to leave my final youth pastoring position in 2006, I waited until every duck was in a row. I thought to myself, "When this class graduates, and this kid is standing on a firm foundation, and this person is ready to pick up the slack, etc...then I will be ready to move to the next work God has for me." In reality, my blessing was stripped. Had I left nine months earlier when God prompted me, I would have removed myself from the dissension that was to follow. God brought me to Oak Grove to heal, yet I spent the final 12 months of my ministry putting out fires. It wasn't my work any longer.
A good part of demonstrating faith is trusting that God loves His children even more than we love those we are serving, and if He asks us to sever the relationships, regardless of how much we have invested our own hearts, this is a good thing. If my life is to be a "master tiller" for the laborers that would bring in the harvest, so be it.
God used the weekend in St. Louis to show me that life does continue without me, and He will continue to use others to bring my loved ones to a greater understanding of Him. Likewise, if my role to the young ladies I work with is to offer their first glimpse of salt and light, I can trust that a loving Father will continue to apprehend their hearts with other willing vessels. As much as I'd love to prevent my girls from experiencing further pain, it is God's purposes and not my protection that will reconcile their hearts to Him.
As for this vessel, there will always be another job and another set of vulnerable children that need the love of Christ. If I present myself willing rather than irreplaceable, I have few doubts that God will choose the best use of that willingness.
You know what? I'm not worried about it. It's not a lack of concern based on ignorance; I know all the facts. I know that if He would rather these kids be in treatment than in a foster home, that He'll do His thing. But on a more personal note, God is teaching me that this vessel does not find its usefulness based on the role or target of its ministry.
Three years ago, I was perfectly content being the vessel of light to a coffeehouse filled with unbelieving people. And I loved them more than anyone I had loved before. I had worked hard to earn their respect through the manner Paul suggests to Titus: by living a self-controlled, diligent, and honorable lifestyle that would shame those that would accuse me of doing otherwise. I can walk into Picasso's and generate the same respect from my employer and co-workers. But as God called me from that place in the summer of 2009, I wrestled with one giant insecurity: not a single one of them was saved.
Is it irresponsible to move forward when I do not receive the "fruits of my labor"? I once thought this was so. When I prepared to leave my final youth pastoring position in 2006, I waited until every duck was in a row. I thought to myself, "When this class graduates, and this kid is standing on a firm foundation, and this person is ready to pick up the slack, etc...then I will be ready to move to the next work God has for me." In reality, my blessing was stripped. Had I left nine months earlier when God prompted me, I would have removed myself from the dissension that was to follow. God brought me to Oak Grove to heal, yet I spent the final 12 months of my ministry putting out fires. It wasn't my work any longer.
A good part of demonstrating faith is trusting that God loves His children even more than we love those we are serving, and if He asks us to sever the relationships, regardless of how much we have invested our own hearts, this is a good thing. If my life is to be a "master tiller" for the laborers that would bring in the harvest, so be it.
God used the weekend in St. Louis to show me that life does continue without me, and He will continue to use others to bring my loved ones to a greater understanding of Him. Likewise, if my role to the young ladies I work with is to offer their first glimpse of salt and light, I can trust that a loving Father will continue to apprehend their hearts with other willing vessels. As much as I'd love to prevent my girls from experiencing further pain, it is God's purposes and not my protection that will reconcile their hearts to Him.
As for this vessel, there will always be another job and another set of vulnerable children that need the love of Christ. If I present myself willing rather than irreplaceable, I have few doubts that God will choose the best use of that willingness.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
the supremacy of obedience
Byron and I spent the weekend in St. Louis catching up with the many ways that God is at work in the inner-city. Our church body has learned the benefit of living communally, and each missionary has sacrificed his or her own wants for the sake of what is needed today. When God's people trust Him to provide for their every need, the body is not left wanting the things of this world.
I've expressed my struggle with being physically separated from my brothers and sisters. Since God has allowed me to share in the Spirit's move among this church, I have tried desperately in my flesh to duplicate this work, based on the fruit I felt I should reap. How should I respond if He desires me to serve faithfully from a "lower" position?
Having been invited to teach this weekend, I experienced conflict between the pride of my identity and the simple act of obedience. What if my body no longer finds me useful? What if my gifts and skills aren't up to the task of building the same environment here? What if He wants nothing more than for me to bury myself in scripture? What if the training He has anointed me to write will never be mine to teach? What if this vision is never fulfilled in my lifetime?
Am I okay with a humble position and legacy?
Hebrews 11 tells us of many who lived by faith but never reaped the fruit of their own labor. They are honored not for the size of their impact, but for their obedience. Many of us spend years chasing the one thing we know we are created to do; this pursuit is perpetuated by Christian literature, skills tests, and the church itself. Those that do find their "identity" sit around, waiting for the opportunity to be useful, shirking the responsibility of any act of obedience that does not perfectly fit their individual anointing. They sit, and they sit, and they sit, and they sit...
What if you saw God behind a movement and accepted whatever task was necessary to advance His Kingdom? What if this meant submitting to another authority? What if this required you to serve "below" your individual sense of purpose? Would you trust Him anyway? Are you willing to let God break up your short-term plans or ask you to accomplish a menial task if it is what the church needs? Or is your role more important than His timing?
This is the true act of faith: to walk in hope and obedience, even when you cannot see how the task He's given you will lead to your vision being fulfilled. I could whine about being asked today to spend my hours in study rather than gathering the harvest or complain that the task isn't important enough. The alternative is to trust that whatever He asks of me is crucial to His work, He knowing better than I what is necessary to fulfill His plan.
I've expressed my struggle with being physically separated from my brothers and sisters. Since God has allowed me to share in the Spirit's move among this church, I have tried desperately in my flesh to duplicate this work, based on the fruit I felt I should reap. How should I respond if He desires me to serve faithfully from a "lower" position?
Having been invited to teach this weekend, I experienced conflict between the pride of my identity and the simple act of obedience. What if my body no longer finds me useful? What if my gifts and skills aren't up to the task of building the same environment here? What if He wants nothing more than for me to bury myself in scripture? What if the training He has anointed me to write will never be mine to teach? What if this vision is never fulfilled in my lifetime?
Am I okay with a humble position and legacy?
Hebrews 11 tells us of many who lived by faith but never reaped the fruit of their own labor. They are honored not for the size of their impact, but for their obedience. Many of us spend years chasing the one thing we know we are created to do; this pursuit is perpetuated by Christian literature, skills tests, and the church itself. Those that do find their "identity" sit around, waiting for the opportunity to be useful, shirking the responsibility of any act of obedience that does not perfectly fit their individual anointing. They sit, and they sit, and they sit, and they sit...
What if you saw God behind a movement and accepted whatever task was necessary to advance His Kingdom? What if this meant submitting to another authority? What if this required you to serve "below" your individual sense of purpose? Would you trust Him anyway? Are you willing to let God break up your short-term plans or ask you to accomplish a menial task if it is what the church needs? Or is your role more important than His timing?
This is the true act of faith: to walk in hope and obedience, even when you cannot see how the task He's given you will lead to your vision being fulfilled. I could whine about being asked today to spend my hours in study rather than gathering the harvest or complain that the task isn't important enough. The alternative is to trust that whatever He asks of me is crucial to His work, He knowing better than I what is necessary to fulfill His plan.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
support
I'm heading to St. Louis this morning to see my church body and do a little teaching. It'll be good to feel like an attached limb once again.
Monday, November 7, 2011
my job is occasionally cooler than yours
Have you ever been paid to watch My Girl with teenagers?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
This unique experience elicited a limitless chain reaction of further reflection. Such as...
Yeah, that's what I thought.
This unique experience elicited a limitless chain reaction of further reflection. Such as...
- Had Vada Sultenfuss attended my grade school, I would've done everything in my power to keep my distance from her, and failed miserably when my curiosity got the best of me. Over the next three years, countless futile attempts would be made to convince my friends that I didn't like her.
- In the summer of 1999, a My Girl marathon inspired my friend Gene and I to Yahoo search "Anna Chlumsky." This is significant because obscure celebrity information was just beginning to become available on the internet, and Chlumsky would become the first of roughly 792 actors that I have since referenced. How badly did I care to know her story? Two words: dial up.
- Chlumsky and Macauley Culkin were both 11-year-olds at the time of release, having played 11-year-olds in the movie. Were My Girl to be filmed today, two 15-year-old Disney stars would be cast solely to sell the accompanying soundtrack. In the modern entertainment age, there will never be a true child actor receiving the widespread acclaim that Culkin did during the early 90s.
- My Girl belongs to a short list of movies of which a viewer cannot in good conscience make fun of another for crying.
- Apparently, Dan Aykroyd revealed that a third movie was being considered as recently as 2004, awaiting Chlumsky's return to the big screen. I love the idea on paper, but I don't see it turning out well. I wonder which 30ish actor would play her love interest -- probably some Topher Grace like character. I pass.
Friday, November 4, 2011
desire and envy
The predominant thought on my mind this week:
As my work has consumed my emotional energy of late, I've noticed my desire for anything of my own has remarkably dwindled. This has occurred at least three times in my life -- when I offer myself solely to the needs of others, I no longer feel grief for what I lack. But I've yet to determine if this is good or holy...
I don't want to serve others purely as a distraction, nor should I kill my flesh so that I cannot feel. It's hard, because this method has its use. When I forget myself entirely, I deny the reality that I long for certain blessings; I feel the fulfillment of serving without the vulnerability of possessing worldly things.
However, this passage bewilders me. James appears to be encouraging us to mourn for the hopelessness of the world so that God can lift us with joy and blessings of His own. Hence the enigma of v. 2-3: how do we know when we should be asking for the blessings He desires to bestow and when to deny the lustful requests that our own hearts have fabricated?
Anybody have a word out there?
What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don't they come from your desires that battle within you? You want something but don't get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.I struggle to see things aside from what is black and white; how do I know the difference between the desires He places on my heart and those constructed through worldly motives?
You adulterous people, don't you know that friendship with the world is hatred toward God? Anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God. Or do you think Scripture says without reason that the spirit he caused to live in us envies intensely? But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says:
“God opposes the proud
but gives grace to the humble.”
Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up. (James 4:1-10)
As my work has consumed my emotional energy of late, I've noticed my desire for anything of my own has remarkably dwindled. This has occurred at least three times in my life -- when I offer myself solely to the needs of others, I no longer feel grief for what I lack. But I've yet to determine if this is good or holy...
I don't want to serve others purely as a distraction, nor should I kill my flesh so that I cannot feel. It's hard, because this method has its use. When I forget myself entirely, I deny the reality that I long for certain blessings; I feel the fulfillment of serving without the vulnerability of possessing worldly things.
However, this passage bewilders me. James appears to be encouraging us to mourn for the hopelessness of the world so that God can lift us with joy and blessings of His own. Hence the enigma of v. 2-3: how do we know when we should be asking for the blessings He desires to bestow and when to deny the lustful requests that our own hearts have fabricated?
Anybody have a word out there?
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
employee of the month
I'll try to keep this short; I should already be in bed...
Today I received my third "Employee of the Month" award in my twenty-three months at FCC. While we are fairly diplomatic with our nominations, I admit feeling a bit of pride for this one, receiving it during the first month of my new shift. Working 12-hour days with troubled teens has made me feel incredibly inadequate, so it's nice to know that the trials are being noticed. It can be difficult for me to receive a compliment, but I've found it much easier to accept in an environment that requires the killing of my flesh to succeed.
During group tonight, my co-worker and I had to fend off some staff bashing. Let me say, I have received the blessing of being paired with one of the most selfless direct-care workers I have ever met. The girls are beginning to notice a stark contrast between our shift and others, and one girl even went so far as to state that she spends the weekend waiting for Sunday when we return. Rather than feeding their negativity or our egos, we asked them to explain the difference, so that we could work harder to equally meet their needs.
Their answer? Empathy.
I know that the love of Christ is doing transformational stuff in my life, because I cannot comprehend how five girls who have been emotionally neglected, sexually abused, and substance dependent can appreciate me for being empathetic. I had grown up believing that the difference between sympathy and empathy was experience, that we cannot empathize with a situation we have not endured. Perhaps this is true on our own. But we serve and know the perfect love of a High Priest that has walked in this flesh, and His Spirit has granted us the privilege of pouring out the overflow of His love.
The world yearns for a Body that cares enough to actively listen and empathize with its mess. Quick solutions and comforting statements are not the answer; people need to know that while their dysfunction is real, our God is bigger. If we are too focused on ourselves or our own wisdom to notice, the lost will never know His love: the life-changing truth that sets us free, turning our once painful story into a testimony of His grace.
Today I received my third "Employee of the Month" award in my twenty-three months at FCC. While we are fairly diplomatic with our nominations, I admit feeling a bit of pride for this one, receiving it during the first month of my new shift. Working 12-hour days with troubled teens has made me feel incredibly inadequate, so it's nice to know that the trials are being noticed. It can be difficult for me to receive a compliment, but I've found it much easier to accept in an environment that requires the killing of my flesh to succeed.
During group tonight, my co-worker and I had to fend off some staff bashing. Let me say, I have received the blessing of being paired with one of the most selfless direct-care workers I have ever met. The girls are beginning to notice a stark contrast between our shift and others, and one girl even went so far as to state that she spends the weekend waiting for Sunday when we return. Rather than feeding their negativity or our egos, we asked them to explain the difference, so that we could work harder to equally meet their needs.
Their answer? Empathy.
I know that the love of Christ is doing transformational stuff in my life, because I cannot comprehend how five girls who have been emotionally neglected, sexually abused, and substance dependent can appreciate me for being empathetic. I had grown up believing that the difference between sympathy and empathy was experience, that we cannot empathize with a situation we have not endured. Perhaps this is true on our own. But we serve and know the perfect love of a High Priest that has walked in this flesh, and His Spirit has granted us the privilege of pouring out the overflow of His love.
The world yearns for a Body that cares enough to actively listen and empathize with its mess. Quick solutions and comforting statements are not the answer; people need to know that while their dysfunction is real, our God is bigger. If we are too focused on ourselves or our own wisdom to notice, the lost will never know His love: the life-changing truth that sets us free, turning our once painful story into a testimony of His grace.
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