American society seems to place a heavy emphasis on success. There are championship contests: World Series, Super Bowl, NCAA Final Four. We have indictors of success: large homes, fancy cars, big SUVs, expensive clothes. But is success really defined by having the most, the biggest, or the most expensive?
How about failure? If one does not have a Super Bowl ring, 3000+ sq. ft. house, Mercedes SUV, or Christian Dior, are you a failure? Or do you have a different standard for measuring success? Does God have a standard for determining success?
Would we consider Moses, Solomon or Job a success? What about Peter, Thomas, or Paul? One could pick any person from the Bible and ask this question after reading about the individual. Given the broad spectrum of people mentioned in the Bible, it would seem God has a very different standard for determining success or failure.
Saturday evening, Pagus presented the "Splendor and Holiness" seminar. The Pagus Event Staff had worked to find and secure a facility based on their faith in God and purchased ad time from the leading, local Christian radio station serving the audience Pagus would like to reach. The staff worked to create quality, professional looking promotional material about Pagus and the seminar. The staff devoted several days to in-person contact with area churches instead of mailing the promo material. The Pagus volunteer staff came Saturday evening to support the seminar by taking on the small but important jobs. All was ready! Open the doors, let the masses come and bask in the presentation of God's Splendor and Holiness!
Cue the chirping crickets.
Pagus had scheduled, promoted, and planned for a successful seminar based on their belief in God's leadership. Not as many people showed up as planned for; too many handouts printed, and a large venue filled with a handful of people. One of the presenters, at 5 minutes after the scheduled start time, said "This is an ouch moment". The director of the venue encouraged the Pagus staff to give the presentation since "every\thing was paid for". The presentation was given and the stage with its red velvet curtain provided an impressive back drop for the volunteer videographers to capture the presentation.
Did Pagus fail or did God provide success? From a human viewpoint, Pagus failed since the required number of attendees to break even did not appear, hours had been invested in feet-to-the-ground promotion, the radio ad did not produce anticipated results and the beautiful Broken Arrow PAC was wasted on a handful of people.
What is not seen is the number of people who will potentially be witnessed to by Pagus moving forward with what they believe is God's direction for Pagus. What about the contacts made during in-person promotion? What about the networking potential of the radio sales manager? What about the pastors who expressed an interest in having Pagus speak at their church? What about the potential for the video to touch people?
The potential for God to use each of us is unlimited because we cannot understand how He will take our perceived failure and create success for Himself. Let me throw out a Biblical example or two: Job, Paul, Peter, Thomas. As humans, we have difficulty with limiting a limitless God. We like things to be solid, touchable, and definable. All properties opposite of who and what God is considering He created the heavens from nothing just by speaking.
Showing posts with label failure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label failure. Show all posts
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Don’t Flinch – Part 2
In the last post I retold the story of the Woman at the Well from my perspective. As I said, I love this story because I know it all too well.
Once upon a time, I was well versed in the faith of my family and culture. I knew the proper forms of worship, the hope of the return of the Messiah, and I thought I knew all the right Bible answers. But once upon a time, I got married to a man who renounced his faith shortly after the ceremony and our marriage crumbled into a game of survivor. One I had to win if I was going to save my children and myself. I got out and tried to make a life for me and my girls, but it was a rough go.
Many people could not grasp how a good Christian girl could get a divorce or how I could wind up married to such a man that would make divorce the only option. I must not have prayed enough or I wasn’t submissive enough. There was sin in my life or I didn’t have enough faith. Not many were brave enough to speak these words aloud, but they didn’t have to. It was there in their eyes, in their offers to pray with me, and in the quiet way they would ignore the ugly facts of my existence.
I learned you don’t go to the well in the morning. Everyone was there ready with that pitying but condemning look. The whispers were low, but not low enough. So I learned to avoid the crowds, draw into myself, take comfort where I could find it, even in a few relationships that were less than holy.
When I would meet a new Christian, someone who did not know my story, I learned to tell it with a note of defiance and an unspoken dare to condemn if they must, but get it over with. I learned to accept the fact I was too far gone to be of any use to God or his people. Like the Samaritan woman I had too many strikes against me.
Worship was hard, my faith seemed as stagnant and dead as the water in that seep of a well but it was all I had. So I learned to make do. Fake it. Act like it was enough, all the while I was dying.
I hated the Holy Flinch, that involuntary reaction that good Christian people have when they are in the presence of sinners. The one we are taught is a gauge of our holiness. Oh, we are taught to hate the sin but love the sinner, but too often we fail to recognize there is no sin separate apart from the person. So often the sin has become the definition of who they are – as in, “Oh, you mean the divorced woman who sits in the back at church.” We begin to shy away from that person, as if their sin was going to rub off on us, like God wouldn’t like it if we came home smelling of divorce. Our kindness is marked with that boundary of “I will give you this, but don’t come any closer.” In the end, that type of kindness is crippling to the receiver.
My perception of God began to shift over time. I mean, if his people flinched then surely he flinched. And if he flinched, it had to mean one of two things, my sin was that great or he was that small. Either way, it meant there was no hope for me. I was lost, endlessly and miserably lost, and there was not a God who loved me enough or was great enough to save me from my reality. My façade was crumbling and my faith was a tattered rag too full of holes and too worn to be warm in the coldness of life.
But then came the day, when I went to the well and stared into its depths and wondered why even bother to lower the bucket. I would just be thirsty again, why prolong the inevitable? So I sat waiting my demise, wondering how long it would take to kill off those last vestiges of faith, and he showed up. I didn’t believe him at first. My ability to hope, to dream of great things for myself and my girls was dead, but somewhere in the deepest part of who I was I knew that when the Messiah came he would explain everything. And when he sat beside me on the edge of that well, that is exactly what he did.
He explained how there is plan and purpose for us all. He told me how there is not one moment of my heartache and pain that would be wasted. He told me he was big enough and great enough to redeem it all to his glory. He said his holiness could never be sullied by my sin and shame. He shared how his heart’s desire was to resurrect all this world had killed within me, and called me back to life. He shared a drink with a disreputable woman who had given up hope, until he saw me and didn’t flinch.
Once upon a time, I was well versed in the faith of my family and culture. I knew the proper forms of worship, the hope of the return of the Messiah, and I thought I knew all the right Bible answers. But once upon a time, I got married to a man who renounced his faith shortly after the ceremony and our marriage crumbled into a game of survivor. One I had to win if I was going to save my children and myself. I got out and tried to make a life for me and my girls, but it was a rough go.
Many people could not grasp how a good Christian girl could get a divorce or how I could wind up married to such a man that would make divorce the only option. I must not have prayed enough or I wasn’t submissive enough. There was sin in my life or I didn’t have enough faith. Not many were brave enough to speak these words aloud, but they didn’t have to. It was there in their eyes, in their offers to pray with me, and in the quiet way they would ignore the ugly facts of my existence.
I learned you don’t go to the well in the morning. Everyone was there ready with that pitying but condemning look. The whispers were low, but not low enough. So I learned to avoid the crowds, draw into myself, take comfort where I could find it, even in a few relationships that were less than holy.
When I would meet a new Christian, someone who did not know my story, I learned to tell it with a note of defiance and an unspoken dare to condemn if they must, but get it over with. I learned to accept the fact I was too far gone to be of any use to God or his people. Like the Samaritan woman I had too many strikes against me.
Worship was hard, my faith seemed as stagnant and dead as the water in that seep of a well but it was all I had. So I learned to make do. Fake it. Act like it was enough, all the while I was dying.
I hated the Holy Flinch, that involuntary reaction that good Christian people have when they are in the presence of sinners. The one we are taught is a gauge of our holiness. Oh, we are taught to hate the sin but love the sinner, but too often we fail to recognize there is no sin separate apart from the person. So often the sin has become the definition of who they are – as in, “Oh, you mean the divorced woman who sits in the back at church.” We begin to shy away from that person, as if their sin was going to rub off on us, like God wouldn’t like it if we came home smelling of divorce. Our kindness is marked with that boundary of “I will give you this, but don’t come any closer.” In the end, that type of kindness is crippling to the receiver.
My perception of God began to shift over time. I mean, if his people flinched then surely he flinched. And if he flinched, it had to mean one of two things, my sin was that great or he was that small. Either way, it meant there was no hope for me. I was lost, endlessly and miserably lost, and there was not a God who loved me enough or was great enough to save me from my reality. My façade was crumbling and my faith was a tattered rag too full of holes and too worn to be warm in the coldness of life.
But then came the day, when I went to the well and stared into its depths and wondered why even bother to lower the bucket. I would just be thirsty again, why prolong the inevitable? So I sat waiting my demise, wondering how long it would take to kill off those last vestiges of faith, and he showed up. I didn’t believe him at first. My ability to hope, to dream of great things for myself and my girls was dead, but somewhere in the deepest part of who I was I knew that when the Messiah came he would explain everything. And when he sat beside me on the edge of that well, that is exactly what he did.
He explained how there is plan and purpose for us all. He told me how there is not one moment of my heartache and pain that would be wasted. He told me he was big enough and great enough to redeem it all to his glory. He said his holiness could never be sullied by my sin and shame. He shared how his heart’s desire was to resurrect all this world had killed within me, and called me back to life. He shared a drink with a disreputable woman who had given up hope, until he saw me and didn’t flinch.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Don’t Flinch – Part 1
There is a story I love about Jesus, maybe it is because I identify with the woman he is talking to, all too well. As I read his words to her, and listen to her responses I can hear my voice forming the words, the sense of desperation and the sheer lack of hope.
The story is found in John 4:1-42. Jesus is traveling with his disciples but he sends them away for awhile, maybe so he could spend a little time alone with a woman they just wouldn’t get. Maybe it was so they wouldn’t have the chance to scare her off, or make another one of their blunders in defense of their Lord. Whatever the reason, he found her there alone at the well in the middle of the afternoon, and what he requires of her is astounding. "Give me a drink." (John 4:7)
I can see the disdain in her face as she responds, hear the unspoken accusations in her words. What are you going to say to me? What could you possible say that a hundred others haven’t already accused me of? You have no right to say one word to a woman such as I. Instead, she merely points out the obvious, you are a Jew and I am a Samaritan, why are you even speaking to me?
Jesus doesn’t flinch. I can almost see him smile as he tells her that if she had a clue, she would ask him to give her living water. It’s a set up, she can see it but can’t resist the chance to put this great man in his place. She tells him, you don’t even have a bucket or a rope, and yet you have the audacity to offer me something greater than the water in this well. I can almost hear the snort.
Living water, a precious commodity in those days. Water that had not been allowed to set or stagnate. It was required that one wash in living water before entering into worship, and not always available in that arid land. Even the water in the well was not living water, the well was a seep. Water from the surrounding land filtered through the rock and slowly collected there, stagnating and stinking because it had no fresh source. Water unfit for use in purification or cleansing, but all that could be had at this place.
Jesus continues, redirecting her vision back to the well, showing her something she has not seen or considered before. With gentle authority, he affirms what she has said and then challenges her to hope, but her heart has been broken. She has been kicked around by society, judged by the harshest critics. Why else would she avoid the other women who came to the well in the cool of the morning? The part of her that knows how to dream, how to hope, has been broken and Jesus is doing something amazing – He is calling it back to life.
“Go and get your husband.” He commands, and she laughs, with bitterness I am sure. “I have no husband.” You can almost hear the thought, once more I am disqualified, not good enough to receive a blessing. Her anger and wounded pride, justified yet again.
But Jesus still doesn’t flinch. “I know,” he says. “And I know all about who you are, what you have done, but I have still made the offer. I still want to share this drink with you!”
I can almost hear the mental scurrying as she seeks a place to hide within herself. She has to deflect, avoid the intimacy of the moment, kindness is too much. So she asks an inane theological question, something safe, but Jesus refuses to be distracted. He answers but his answer is far more pointed than she could have anticipated, "God is seeking those who will worship in Spirit and in Truth." He is looking for people who can acknowledge that there is sin, some sins they have chosen and some to which they have been a victim. But, God still desire to know them.
Listen close, I can almost hear the hope creeping into her voice, “When the Messiah comes, he will explain everything.” I will know why my life has been what it has, the thought pierces through her words. I will understand why I have had to endure what I have endured. It will all be worth it when he comes.
And Jesus, once again smiles, "I am he!" What a revelation! What a reason to grasp the hope he has offered! It is not an abstract idea. It is not something locked in the great, unknown future. It is now, and she has witnessed it.
Tune in next time – when I tell the story of when I went to the well.
The story is found in John 4:1-42. Jesus is traveling with his disciples but he sends them away for awhile, maybe so he could spend a little time alone with a woman they just wouldn’t get. Maybe it was so they wouldn’t have the chance to scare her off, or make another one of their blunders in defense of their Lord. Whatever the reason, he found her there alone at the well in the middle of the afternoon, and what he requires of her is astounding. "Give me a drink." (John 4:7)
I can see the disdain in her face as she responds, hear the unspoken accusations in her words. What are you going to say to me? What could you possible say that a hundred others haven’t already accused me of? You have no right to say one word to a woman such as I. Instead, she merely points out the obvious, you are a Jew and I am a Samaritan, why are you even speaking to me?
Jesus doesn’t flinch. I can almost see him smile as he tells her that if she had a clue, she would ask him to give her living water. It’s a set up, she can see it but can’t resist the chance to put this great man in his place. She tells him, you don’t even have a bucket or a rope, and yet you have the audacity to offer me something greater than the water in this well. I can almost hear the snort.
Living water, a precious commodity in those days. Water that had not been allowed to set or stagnate. It was required that one wash in living water before entering into worship, and not always available in that arid land. Even the water in the well was not living water, the well was a seep. Water from the surrounding land filtered through the rock and slowly collected there, stagnating and stinking because it had no fresh source. Water unfit for use in purification or cleansing, but all that could be had at this place.
Jesus continues, redirecting her vision back to the well, showing her something she has not seen or considered before. With gentle authority, he affirms what she has said and then challenges her to hope, but her heart has been broken. She has been kicked around by society, judged by the harshest critics. Why else would she avoid the other women who came to the well in the cool of the morning? The part of her that knows how to dream, how to hope, has been broken and Jesus is doing something amazing – He is calling it back to life.
“Go and get your husband.” He commands, and she laughs, with bitterness I am sure. “I have no husband.” You can almost hear the thought, once more I am disqualified, not good enough to receive a blessing. Her anger and wounded pride, justified yet again.
But Jesus still doesn’t flinch. “I know,” he says. “And I know all about who you are, what you have done, but I have still made the offer. I still want to share this drink with you!”
I can almost hear the mental scurrying as she seeks a place to hide within herself. She has to deflect, avoid the intimacy of the moment, kindness is too much. So she asks an inane theological question, something safe, but Jesus refuses to be distracted. He answers but his answer is far more pointed than she could have anticipated, "God is seeking those who will worship in Spirit and in Truth." He is looking for people who can acknowledge that there is sin, some sins they have chosen and some to which they have been a victim. But, God still desire to know them.
Listen close, I can almost hear the hope creeping into her voice, “When the Messiah comes, he will explain everything.” I will know why my life has been what it has, the thought pierces through her words. I will understand why I have had to endure what I have endured. It will all be worth it when he comes.
And Jesus, once again smiles, "I am he!" What a revelation! What a reason to grasp the hope he has offered! It is not an abstract idea. It is not something locked in the great, unknown future. It is now, and she has witnessed it.
Tune in next time – when I tell the story of when I went to the well.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Christians in the wild and their natural habitat
As a child, I regularly watched “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom”. “Wild Kingdom” was one of the first shows to bring exotic, remote areas of the world into people’s living rooms. Also, people got to see the animals in their native habitat and view the animal’s behavior. The show provided people a method of determining how a tiger differs from a cheetah or a zebra from a horse.
Over the last year, my LTS (Long Term Spouse) and I have been seeking a new church home. We have found a potential “home” that we have been attended for several months. This has given us the opportunity to view Christians in their natural habitat. Within this habitat, a lot of different Christians exist: babes, teenagers, mature, and senior.
This Christian family contains people who are emotional, some who are extroverted, some who are quiet and some who are vocal. But the common thread is they all belong to Christ through his blood, death, and resurrection. Whatever a Christian’s “style” is, one objective, for each Christian, remains constant: can you be identified as a Christian. We all at one time or another may exhibit non-Christian behavior which may allow us to show non-Christians we are not perfect.
Just think of a tiger: sometimes agile, quiet and other times clumsy, noisy. The basic nature of the tiger is to be agile and quiet but every once in awhile the tiger will stumble. A tiger doesn’t just sit down and admit failure. Instead the tiger continues on but learns from his mistake and to be careful. Christians should follow the tiger’s example: learn from our mistakes. We should not just sit down because of failure but continue because of it.
A great example of continuing on after a failure is Peter. Talk about a BIG boo-boo. Peter was in daily contact with Jesus and Peter still denied he knew Christ. But Peter was a rock on which the church was built. Also, Jesus had no doubts about Peter. In Luke 22:32, Jesus told Peter to “strength your brothers” when you have turned back. After Peter was “knocked down”, Jesus expected Peter to get up, dust himself off, and minister to people.
Christians live in a hostile habitat containing obstacles, perils, and worries. We should always be mindful that someone is watching and studying us in the wild (the world) and in our natural habitat (the church). Our objective should be a daily effort to be identified as a Christian.
Over the last year, my LTS (Long Term Spouse) and I have been seeking a new church home. We have found a potential “home” that we have been attended for several months. This has given us the opportunity to view Christians in their natural habitat. Within this habitat, a lot of different Christians exist: babes, teenagers, mature, and senior.
This Christian family contains people who are emotional, some who are extroverted, some who are quiet and some who are vocal. But the common thread is they all belong to Christ through his blood, death, and resurrection. Whatever a Christian’s “style” is, one objective, for each Christian, remains constant: can you be identified as a Christian. We all at one time or another may exhibit non-Christian behavior which may allow us to show non-Christians we are not perfect.
Just think of a tiger: sometimes agile, quiet and other times clumsy, noisy. The basic nature of the tiger is to be agile and quiet but every once in awhile the tiger will stumble. A tiger doesn’t just sit down and admit failure. Instead the tiger continues on but learns from his mistake and to be careful. Christians should follow the tiger’s example: learn from our mistakes. We should not just sit down because of failure but continue because of it.
A great example of continuing on after a failure is Peter. Talk about a BIG boo-boo. Peter was in daily contact with Jesus and Peter still denied he knew Christ. But Peter was a rock on which the church was built. Also, Jesus had no doubts about Peter. In Luke 22:32, Jesus told Peter to “strength your brothers” when you have turned back. After Peter was “knocked down”, Jesus expected Peter to get up, dust himself off, and minister to people.
Christians live in a hostile habitat containing obstacles, perils, and worries. We should always be mindful that someone is watching and studying us in the wild (the world) and in our natural habitat (the church). Our objective should be a daily effort to be identified as a Christian.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)