As if my previous blog post isn't enough of a spirit lifter, there is another story to go along with what happened this week. This one, for me, hits a little closer to home.
In my group, there was a young boy named Aaron (yes, the one that was obsessed with foosball). If you'll recall, in the blog post before, I'd mentioned that I asked the boys all kinds of fun questions to try and get them to open up. One question that stuck was "if you could have one super power, what would it be and why?' One boy said he wanted to breathe under water, one said he wanted super human strength-you get the idea. But Aaron...Aaron said he wanted superhuman speed...because he was always slower than other kids...slower and smaller and, perhaps, even picked on a bit. It broke my heart. In this one answer to one silly question, this young boy had just laid bare a piece of his heart. Jesus, how do I handle this? How do I show him that he is so much more than a small, insignificant little boy?
Of course, if you read the before blog, you know that I planned a lesson around foosball-which the boys loved. You also know that I gave them each a foosball at the end, and that each ball had their name, the meaning of their name, and a verse on it.
What you don't know is the significance of the names. We had been studying about Simon-Peter. One of the lessons was that Simon was given the name Peter by Jesus. A name change in the Bible is significant, especially when it comes from God. I believe that it is Him calling to our inner being as part of the process of being made into what He would have us to be.
What you don't know it that Jesus was already telling these boys what He thinks about them through the names they were given when they were born. And, perhaps, the most significant of these was Aaron's name. His name, as best as I could find, translates from Hebrew to mean "strength of the mountain". The boy who thinks he is slower and smaller has a name that is bigger and stronger. Jesus has been speaking strength and power over him since his birth...with just a name. When I told him the meaning of his name, he seemed shocked. I'm not sure if he really understands the great significance of this, but he will one day.
How many times have I been in a situation where I feel that I am insignificant or unworthy or useless? Sometimes, it's only looking as far as my name to realize that I am a daughter. That I am valued. He sees me. Sometimes, it's asking the Lord what He calls me. He calls me by my given name much of the time, but every once in a while He will give me a name with a meaning that connects to that place in me that is feeling less than. He calls to my inner being, and strengthens me.
"Forgiven, Beloved, Hidden in Christ, Made in the image of the Giver of Life
Righteous and Holy, Reborn and Remade, Accepted and Worthy-this is our new name. This is who we are now."-I Am New, Jason Gray
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
Simon-Peter & Foosball Part 1
Life is like a foosball game.
Let me back up a moment. This passed week has been long and tiring. Working all day and then helping with VBS (which is like a sort of "camp" for children at church) in the evenings. I have to admit, at first when I was asked to lead a small group, I didn't want to. I suppose I agreed more for my mom than for anyone. However, as the days drew closer to Monday morning, I couldn't help but find myself excited about getting to share Jesus with 5th graders (for that was the grade I'd been assigned). What's more, I got to be a small group leader, which means I got a small group of 5th graders and get 4 days to build relationships, play, and share Jesus' love. I figured it would be awesome!
It wasn't. Or at least it didn't start out that way. Somehow, I ended up with all boys. Given, there were only 4 of them, but there's just something about certain mixes of kids. They weren't horrible. It was just that the activities were really to young for them...in a world where they have fancy things like iPods and iPhones, xbox and playstation, this just was not working. I tried everything. From funny questions to rowdy games. The funny questions were seen as "lame" and the rowdy games only made them that much more rowdy. And then...
His name is Aaron. And the entire time every day all he could talk about was the foosball table that is out in the large group room. I don't think he'd ever seen the game before. He was hooked from day 1. I knew that, somehow, I had to work this game into our lessons. Had to. But what does a foosball game have to do with the calling and discipleship of Peter? Nothing...and everything apparently.
The last day, I got permission to have the lesson at the foosball table. I told the boys that life was like a game of foosball, and stuck a label that said "LIFE" on the edge of the table. We, like the players in the little game, had no choice whether we participated in this game or not. In foosball there are two teams. I let them pick our team color and then had them put labels on the backs of the little men in the game. The labels had our names on them. I told them that the opposing forces also had names. I handed them labels-"Fear", "Anger", and "Hate"-to label our opposers with. Next, I told them that these little men could not move or act without influence. Humans are the same, we don't move or act without influence. We sometimes just don't want to acknowledge what our influence is. I told the boys to take up their positions at the game. For the side that was to influence the players of our team, I stuck labels on the boy's shirts that said "HOLY SPIRIT". For the opposing team, I stuck labels on the boy's shirts that said "The enemy" and "the darkness". We are all influenced by either good or bad, the light or the dark, God or the enemy. I then withdrew the foosball from my pocket. On it, I had written the fruits of the Spirit. I told the boys that we, as believers, are to sow the fruits of the Spirit wherever we go. We only know how to do that by reading the Word.
"What about that one?", one boy asked pointing to a broken player. I smiled. Jesus was kind enough to give me vision even for the broken one. I had actually been praying that somehow, the broken guy didn't get fixed. You see, the screw that held him to the rod came out, so he was just spinning around the rod...really no help to the game at all. I told the boys that choosing not to choose a side is still choosing a side. Choosing not to act is still acting, and still affected the game at some points-like when the little man would randomly swing down and knock the ball in a direction it wasn't intended to go.
"So, what's the goal? What does the goal represent?", the same boy asked. The goal is what Jesus told us. He told us to love the Lord our God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength. He told us to love our neighbor as ourself. He told us to love our enemies, to pray for them. He told us to make disciples. That is the goal.
"And now we play?", they asked eagerly. Haha. Yes. Of course. But with a twist. Every time the good guys make a goal you have to shout, "WE ARE THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT!" And every time the opposing force makes a goal you shout, "BACK OFF SATAN"...because sometimes the enemy scores one. Sometimes we are like Peter, and we deny and run. But that isn't the end. Because He gives us the opportunity to tell Him that we love Him. He gives us opportunities, still, to partner with Him and feed His sheep. And we can still have victory. We HAVE victory.
After a few games, I stopped the boys and gave them each a foosball of their own. Each ball had their name on it, the meaning of their name, and a specific verse for each of them.
We then had to move on to our next activity. I left our lesson knowing the boys had fun and trusting that the Lord had implanted what he needed to in each of them. During the craft, the kids were making place mats for inmates. The boys came up to me telling me all sorts of different things about what they had done and drawn. One boy said that Aaron had used our foosball lesson on a mat. And Aaron smiled and said, "Life is like a foosball game."
They got it. I know they did. I may not ever get to see what the seeds that Jesus planted during that time will grow into, much less what fruit they will bear. But I went to bed last night with the voices of 5th grade boys ringing in my ears, "WE ARE THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT!"
Yes, life is like a foosball game. And we are the Children of Light.
Let me back up a moment. This passed week has been long and tiring. Working all day and then helping with VBS (which is like a sort of "camp" for children at church) in the evenings. I have to admit, at first when I was asked to lead a small group, I didn't want to. I suppose I agreed more for my mom than for anyone. However, as the days drew closer to Monday morning, I couldn't help but find myself excited about getting to share Jesus with 5th graders (for that was the grade I'd been assigned). What's more, I got to be a small group leader, which means I got a small group of 5th graders and get 4 days to build relationships, play, and share Jesus' love. I figured it would be awesome!
It wasn't. Or at least it didn't start out that way. Somehow, I ended up with all boys. Given, there were only 4 of them, but there's just something about certain mixes of kids. They weren't horrible. It was just that the activities were really to young for them...in a world where they have fancy things like iPods and iPhones, xbox and playstation, this just was not working. I tried everything. From funny questions to rowdy games. The funny questions were seen as "lame" and the rowdy games only made them that much more rowdy. And then...
His name is Aaron. And the entire time every day all he could talk about was the foosball table that is out in the large group room. I don't think he'd ever seen the game before. He was hooked from day 1. I knew that, somehow, I had to work this game into our lessons. Had to. But what does a foosball game have to do with the calling and discipleship of Peter? Nothing...and everything apparently.
The last day, I got permission to have the lesson at the foosball table. I told the boys that life was like a game of foosball, and stuck a label that said "LIFE" on the edge of the table. We, like the players in the little game, had no choice whether we participated in this game or not. In foosball there are two teams. I let them pick our team color and then had them put labels on the backs of the little men in the game. The labels had our names on them. I told them that the opposing forces also had names. I handed them labels-"Fear", "Anger", and "Hate"-to label our opposers with. Next, I told them that these little men could not move or act without influence. Humans are the same, we don't move or act without influence. We sometimes just don't want to acknowledge what our influence is. I told the boys to take up their positions at the game. For the side that was to influence the players of our team, I stuck labels on the boy's shirts that said "HOLY SPIRIT". For the opposing team, I stuck labels on the boy's shirts that said "The enemy" and "the darkness". We are all influenced by either good or bad, the light or the dark, God or the enemy. I then withdrew the foosball from my pocket. On it, I had written the fruits of the Spirit. I told the boys that we, as believers, are to sow the fruits of the Spirit wherever we go. We only know how to do that by reading the Word.
"What about that one?", one boy asked pointing to a broken player. I smiled. Jesus was kind enough to give me vision even for the broken one. I had actually been praying that somehow, the broken guy didn't get fixed. You see, the screw that held him to the rod came out, so he was just spinning around the rod...really no help to the game at all. I told the boys that choosing not to choose a side is still choosing a side. Choosing not to act is still acting, and still affected the game at some points-like when the little man would randomly swing down and knock the ball in a direction it wasn't intended to go.
"So, what's the goal? What does the goal represent?", the same boy asked. The goal is what Jesus told us. He told us to love the Lord our God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength. He told us to love our neighbor as ourself. He told us to love our enemies, to pray for them. He told us to make disciples. That is the goal.
"And now we play?", they asked eagerly. Haha. Yes. Of course. But with a twist. Every time the good guys make a goal you have to shout, "WE ARE THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT!" And every time the opposing force makes a goal you shout, "BACK OFF SATAN"...because sometimes the enemy scores one. Sometimes we are like Peter, and we deny and run. But that isn't the end. Because He gives us the opportunity to tell Him that we love Him. He gives us opportunities, still, to partner with Him and feed His sheep. And we can still have victory. We HAVE victory.
After a few games, I stopped the boys and gave them each a foosball of their own. Each ball had their name on it, the meaning of their name, and a specific verse for each of them.
We then had to move on to our next activity. I left our lesson knowing the boys had fun and trusting that the Lord had implanted what he needed to in each of them. During the craft, the kids were making place mats for inmates. The boys came up to me telling me all sorts of different things about what they had done and drawn. One boy said that Aaron had used our foosball lesson on a mat. And Aaron smiled and said, "Life is like a foosball game."
They got it. I know they did. I may not ever get to see what the seeds that Jesus planted during that time will grow into, much less what fruit they will bear. But I went to bed last night with the voices of 5th grade boys ringing in my ears, "WE ARE THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT!"
Yes, life is like a foosball game. And we are the Children of Light.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
You are Always
Sometimes...
Sometimes I'm like Abraham. I have the faith to move and believe when others do not. But sometimes, I am like Sarah. I laugh at the mere thought that God is birthing something new and good; it just takes Him a little longer than I'd like to accomplish it.
Sometimes...
Sometimes I'm like Joshua. I have seen the Promised Land. I have see the abundance that awaits me there. I have seen the giants and great strongholds of the enemy that lie within, but I will trust and believe. "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." But sometimes, I'm like Gideon. God, I'm the smallest and weakest of my tribe. God, I cannot fight-I've no training in the ways of war. And then, when I finally agree to step out, I set out a fleece for him...several times. God are you sure? God did I hear you correctly? If you could just speak once more...
Sometimes...
Sometimes I am like the prophet Jeremiah. I weep for those who have not seen and heard. I long for them to know the Truth that has set me free. I weep for the destruction that will come if they do not turn their eyes towards Elohim. But sometimes, I am like Jonah. I'm a snot and I run away. They don't deserve it. And, God, I think you should just squash them like a bug.
Sometimes...
Sometimes I am like Mary. I sit at his feet in wide-eyed wonder as he tells me mysteries, and whispers tenderly to me. But sometimes, I am like Martha. I want it done in this order, at this time at this place. I'm working and Mary is sitting. Go figure.
Sometimes...
Sometimes I am John the disciple. I follow Him whereever he would go, even to the foot of the cross. But sometimes, I am Peter and Thomas rolled into one. I deny, not once or twice, but three times. I doubt, and just cannot believe it unless I see it right here in front of my face.
Sometimes...
Sometimes I'm an Ear that wants to be an Eye. I'm sick of listening, and I'd rather play I-Spy.
But You...
You take my Sarah, and make me a spiritual mother to many. You teach me to disciple and nurture.
You take my Gideon, and make me a warrior. You teach me wisdom far beyond that I've ever known.
You take my Jonah, and give me a second chance. You bring me up out of the fishes belly, to land.
You take my Martha, and say that work and order is good. You teach me to be awed by You.
You take my Peter and my Thomas, and give me a chance, not once or twice, but three times, to say, "I love you". You take my hands in Yours and let me feel the reality of You.
You are faithful. You are kind. You are good.
You are true. You are trustworthy.
You are always.
Sometimes I'm like Abraham. I have the faith to move and believe when others do not. But sometimes, I am like Sarah. I laugh at the mere thought that God is birthing something new and good; it just takes Him a little longer than I'd like to accomplish it.
Sometimes...
Sometimes I'm like Joshua. I have seen the Promised Land. I have see the abundance that awaits me there. I have seen the giants and great strongholds of the enemy that lie within, but I will trust and believe. "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." But sometimes, I'm like Gideon. God, I'm the smallest and weakest of my tribe. God, I cannot fight-I've no training in the ways of war. And then, when I finally agree to step out, I set out a fleece for him...several times. God are you sure? God did I hear you correctly? If you could just speak once more...
Sometimes...
Sometimes I am like the prophet Jeremiah. I weep for those who have not seen and heard. I long for them to know the Truth that has set me free. I weep for the destruction that will come if they do not turn their eyes towards Elohim. But sometimes, I am like Jonah. I'm a snot and I run away. They don't deserve it. And, God, I think you should just squash them like a bug.
Sometimes...
Sometimes I am like Mary. I sit at his feet in wide-eyed wonder as he tells me mysteries, and whispers tenderly to me. But sometimes, I am like Martha. I want it done in this order, at this time at this place. I'm working and Mary is sitting. Go figure.
Sometimes...
Sometimes I am John the disciple. I follow Him whereever he would go, even to the foot of the cross. But sometimes, I am Peter and Thomas rolled into one. I deny, not once or twice, but three times. I doubt, and just cannot believe it unless I see it right here in front of my face.
Sometimes...
Sometimes I'm an Ear that wants to be an Eye. I'm sick of listening, and I'd rather play I-Spy.
But You...
You take my Sarah, and make me a spiritual mother to many. You teach me to disciple and nurture.
You take my Gideon, and make me a warrior. You teach me wisdom far beyond that I've ever known.
You take my Jonah, and give me a second chance. You bring me up out of the fishes belly, to land.
You take my Martha, and say that work and order is good. You teach me to be awed by You.
You take my Peter and my Thomas, and give me a chance, not once or twice, but three times, to say, "I love you". You take my hands in Yours and let me feel the reality of You.
You are faithful. You are kind. You are good.
You are true. You are trustworthy.
You are always.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Desert Flower
It's been a while since I've written, dear reader. It's not that I haven't tried, as there are times I write a whole paragraph...and then proceeded to delete it and log out. So, now I am resolved to write at least once a week-no matter what.
It's amazing to me how the season I'm sitting in can have such an effect on what comes out of me, or what doesn't come out of me. I'm talking seasons of the soul. Sometimes the seasons are exciting, full of adventure and challenges. Sometimes they're full of hurt and sorrow. Sometimes full of rain and growth. And sometimes, they are incredibly dry.
That's where I find myself now: stuck in the middle of a desert season. It takes everything in me to write, to praise, to press in. It's so tiring. I find myself pleading with the Lord to "lead me up out of the wilderness already!"And then he leads me to passages like Hosea 2. He talks about alluring "her" to the desert to "speak tenderly to her", to woo her. Umm...I'm inclined to disagree with this idea. Do you not realize how stinking hot the desert is?! I'm smelly, sweaty, sticky, cranky, thirsty and you want to "speak tenderly" to me?! Are you joking?! No. Apparently not. Okay then, so what am I doing here?!
Have you noticed the beauty of the desert flower?, he says. Seriously, Lord? You want to talk about flowers? I'm in the desert so thirsty and tired, and You want to talk about flowers? And then it hits me. That realization, that understanding that comes only through Holy Spirit. A desert flower is beautiful. It's resilient. It lives through conditions that would cause most plants to wither and die. So, he wants me to be a desert flower...not a flower that is just "pretty" but a flower that can withstand intense heat-stand under fire, so to speak. Ok. Great. Make me a desert flower. Easier said than done. Because I long for this season to be over. Remember, it's hot, dry, and uncomfortable. And I'm still feeling smelly, cranky, sticky, and thirsty.
What was that, Lord? Something about rain? Watering the desert flower? Seriously, I'm in the desert and you want to talk about flowers and rain? And then he leads me to Isaiah 43. Streams in the desert. Water in the wasteland. Right...I can get the whole becoming a resilient desert flower thing, but rain in the desert Lord? Come on. "See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?"
What season are you in friend? Are you in the same place I am wondering why He's brought you to a certain place? Are you staring at that last question, like I keep doing, and saying, "No. No I don't perceive it!" All I can tell you, is to keep pressing in. Keep seeking His face. Seasons are just that-seasons. They don't last forever. I have to remind myself of this daily. I also have to remind myself that His word is good and true. That I can take Yeshua at His word. He spent 40 days in the desert, literally and figuratively. He knows what He's called me to walk in. He knows what He's called you to walk in.
"I know the end of the story: I come up from the wilderness leaning on my Beloved."-Strong Love, Jon Thurlow
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