Choosing God, Recklessly

I was a little harsh on Katie, from Kisses on Katie, in my post the other day, perhaps a little unmerited. I don’t mean to disparage her efforts or what God is doing in her life and the lives of the children. How much better our world would be if each of us would take the call to get involved and love our neighbors in such real and practical ways!

I do like her, and as I mentioned, she reminds me somewhat of myself. I still have a lot of maturing to do when it comes to walking alongside others and not trying to do it all myself. And I certainly didn’t have those answers at 19.

What I am learning from her story is the beauty of a reckless abandon to God’s call, a willingness to not just step outside her comfort zone, but to give up one way of life to wholeheartedly pursue another. I appreciate that. I have moved several times. Even when I have found myself in unfamiliar places or new cities, it has still been relatively easy to integrate my life into my new surroundings. I don’t have to rethink who I am or what I am doing. I have ways to connect, to interact, to live my life, albeit with some adjustments, but still live my life the way I have always known it.

How different it must be to pick up and leave everything to live a completely different life, to go from the relative abundance of middle class life in America to a poverty-stricken area in Uganda, to be in a place where running water is a luxury and starvation is too much of a reality. How do you adjust to a life like that?

In the book, which I recommend if you haven’t read it, Katie talks about the poverty there and the healthcare needs. She also talks about returning to the States and what that adjustment was like, the juxtaposition of her two worlds and the internal struggle that resulted from that reality, how hard it was for her to reconcile the materialism of America and the need in Uganda. What she realized is that she had to choose where she belonged. She couldn’t keep a foot in each place; she couldn’t make both places her home.

I think God often places us in places where we have to choose. Katie references Matthew 6:24 – “No one can serve two masters. He will hate the one and love the other or love the one and hate the other.” I think, too, of when God tested Abraham – forced him to choose God or his son (Genesis 22). Abraham chose to obey God. Katie chose to obey God and return permanently to Uganda. Do I choose God? Would I choose God if He called me to give up everything I had or to go across the world? Would I choose God over a spouse, a job, family? Would I choose God if, like Job, I lost everything (Job 1-2)?

What do you think? Do you think God calls us to give up “good things” for Him? Is this reckless abandon to God or just reckless? How do you make sense of God calling some to give it all up and others seemingly called to live a content and comfortable life?

Lone Ranger Syndrome

As part of a discussion group at my church, I started reading the book Kisses from Katie by Katie Davis. It is Katie’s story of moving to Uganda after high school and ministering to the children there and adopting 14 of them herself. It is an incredible story of courage and ministry, meeting very real physical needs and loving these children with an extraordinary love. It is an amazing story of what God is doing in and through her.

As I was reading it, though, it really struck me that there is no talk (so far) of her working with a local church or another agency. She is there pretty much on her own. Parts of it sound like another “lone ranger” story or the “white savior” complex, as it is often referred to in foreign aid circles, a passionate and caring individual coming in and trying to save the world herself versus building long-term sustainable partnerships and collaborative efforts that can address multifaceted needs and complex issues.

I like Katie, though, probably because I see a lot of me in her. I realize how many times I let my passion and concern, my desire to jump in and do things, my sense of calling drive me to minister, to love, to hopefully make a difference in the world around me. And I don’t want to lose that. So many times, though, I do that without concern for those around me. I find myself wanting to do my own thing, wanting to make a name for myself, wanting to earn the respect of others, wanting to do good and noble things, but wanting to do them myself. Even when I talk about my calling, I can sometimes sounds as if I have an exclusive call from God or that I am the only one on God’s side. Cocky, isn’t it?

But I am learning how important it is to bring others along with me, to partner with others who are called to similar work, to realize I can’t do it all myself, I don’t need to, and that I can’t bear that burden alone. I am not the only one on God’s side, and if I’m not careful I can even end up on the wrong side, fighting Him instead of serving Him. I find myself cut off from those around me thinking I know what is best, what needs to be done, what is right and choose not to listen to dissenting voices. The work suffers, the impact is diminished, and the pride takes it tolls when I am a lone ranger working isolated and alone.

The work benefits, though, and the impact increases dramatically when I am a part of something greater than myself, when I am a part of a team, part of the a body united with a common purpose and effort. I can lay my pride down knowing it is no longer about me but about Him. And I am one among many who is useful to Him. I hear Him saying to me, “I didn’t create you to be a lone ranger” (Thank you, God, I don’t look good in masks.) “You need others on your team and they need you. Work with them to do the work that I have called all of you to do.”

I read the story of Elijah, an Old Testament prophet who struggled with this same thing (See 1 Kings 19). I’m so encouraged that God responds to Elijah’s pride and pity party with a fresh revelation of who He is, a new awareness of fellow servants, and a new partner in ministry. God doesn’t leave us alone. Even the Lone Rangerhad Tonto, and God is faithful to provide the partners we need in ministry and in life.

Beyond the Barren Places

These last couple of months have been hard. Right as a celebrated a year here in Waco and at my job, I found out that my job is changing – a good position and good opportunities, I think and I hope. But instead of feeling more comfortable in my role, I find myself instead starting from scratch once again, navigating new relationships and dynamics, new responsibilities and challenges. And through the process I have found myself staring all my insecurities in the face again – feeling like I am not good enough, or smart enough, or polished enough. I have felt very beat up in that process, very drained, very lost. My teaching has suffered and my work has suffered as a result. I found myself going through the motions, but they were very unfruitful, very stale and stagnant, very unfulfilling.

The questions that I was almost afraid to ask loomed right beneath the surface. Why would God bring me all the way to Texas, far from family and friends, far from the ministries that He had given me? Why am I in this desert place? (Desert, figuratively speaking, Waco is not a desert.) Why do I feel so barren and unproductive when I am here to be useful, to serve, to minister, to grow? I’ve done much soul-searching and much praying over the last couple of months asking God and searching for those answers, trying to sense His purpose for me here and His purpose in my work.

And answers did not come easily or in expected forms. As I was struggling one day to make sense of it, I came across a friend’s status update on Facebook, requesting prayer for his 5 year old daughter with a serious & painful disease. I just stopped in my tracks, and read her story and cried for her. God was showing me a different perspective on my “hardship” in light of the very real pain and unimaginable suffering of a young girl and her family. I was deeply moved by compassion for her, deeply moved by her courage and her family’s faith, deeply moved by seeing God work in her life. Her name means mercy. As so many called out to God for mercy on her behalf, I could sense God writing an incredible story in her life, one that reveals Him as the God of all mercy, the healer, the redeemer.

That may seem random, but to me, it was a reminder and a message that I needed to hear – one that went straight to the desert place in my heart and reminded me of God’s love and His mercy, even in the midst of horrible pain and suffering as in her life, and in the hard, unpleasant times in mine. God is with us, even when we are weak, when we fail, when we just are not good enough. His grace is sufficient, His love is overflowing, and He is more than enough, abundantly more.

Last week, we started wrapping up the semester. On the one hand, I finished up my two courses and realized how much my teaching had suffered in this transition, how much I had felt lost and how much it showed in my courses. I felt I had let my students down and myself. On the other hand, though, I celebrated with students at our end of the year banquet and got to recognize them for their work, their leadership, their projects, their sense of calling and purpose. And in doing that, it reminded me of why I do what I do – I care. And I want to be a part of investing in students’ lives, of helping them to discover their purpose and calling, and helping them to overcome their own sense of inadequacies and failures. I got to see a student who was so talented and yet unsure of herself step into the president role of a student organization, passionate about making a difference. I got to recognize a student who is a gifted artist for using her talents and abilities to talk about important issues on campus. I had the opportunity to see students who have decided to serve, decided to step into the community and work alongside professionals to make a difference in dental care, in politics, in education, in so many different areas. It was energizing and exhilarating. I came back with new focus and energy in my work, new productivity and hope.

Yes, there are times that I am wholly inadequate, times when I fall flat on my face – figuratively and literally. But there are times when God completely uses those inadequacies to equip me for my work. I know what it is like to be ready to make your mark on the world, to want to do great things for God, and so caught up in fear and insecurity and doubt. I also know the value of someone coming alongside me, guiding me on that journey, and encouraging me as I continue to step forward. I want to be that for students. I want to encourage, develop, minister, teach, and guide them along their way.

Please pray for me as I move into this new position. In my new role, I will be overseeing the service programs on campus. I have the opportunity to work with students as they seek to serve in a variety of a different ways, and I will have the opportunity to shape the conversation on campus around service – focusing on how to love and how to minister, how to do service the right way with the right heart. I am excited that Baylor is making a new commitment to expand community engagement across campus and to build more meaningful and intentional relationships with the community. I think we have a unique opportunity to cultivate servant-leaders and to make a difference in our local community and around the world. The responsibilities and the tasks loom large, and in many ways I am inadequate. But He is enough, more than enough, and He equips us for the work He calls us to do. I am very thankful that I get to play a pivotal role in this office and these efforts, that I was recruited for this position and asked to take it on. I am even more thankful that God is with me every step of the way, past the insecurities and inadequacies and into the place of His mercy and grace.

Dancing to the Music

Some people are tone deaf; I am rhythm-deaf. I have an incredibly hard time feeling the music. I have always loved music, but it never comes naturally to me. I can read notes on a page but can’t seem to feel music the way others can. I think this is why I struggle so much with dancing. People say just listen to the music – I listen, but I am more apt to sing than I am to figure out how to move with it.

But last week, I was feeling extra adventurous and decided to go swing dancing with some friends. It was something very much out of my comfort zone, which is part of what attracted me to it. And since I knew I was with people I enjoy being around, I knew I would have fun even if this dancing thing didn’t turn out so well.

And so, I was introduced to the world of swing dancing. And it started off rough. After a very short beginner lesson, I was still nowhere near comfortable with the steps and pretty overwhelmed with the feeling of not being able to “get” it. There were several gracious guys that were patient enough to “lead” and help me figure it out, and then there were those I could tell I obviously frustrated by getting so out of sync. Ugh!

As the night went on though, I started thinking about this experience. I am ultra-independent. I prefer and need high levels of autonomy in just about everything I do. And dancing bucks that trend. I need a partner, and I need to follow my partner. I am used to taking the lead. It is very different to take my cues from someone else, to really listen as they communicate nonverbally with me and to learn to trust their moves.

I know I need more practice with those skills – when it comes to dancing and when it comes to life. Just like with music, it doesn’t come naturally for me to slow down and get in sync with others. I am a people-person. I thrive on relationships. But when it comes to projects and work, I prefer to leave others behind and do my own thing – not in a malicious or indifferent kind of way, but rather with a sense of getting things done in the most efficient way possible. Way too often, I find myself marching to my own drummer (and off-rhythm) instead of working to get in sync with those around me.

I learned the hard way that it is disastrous on the dance floor to get out of sync. One can go flying, or trip, or clash with your partner if you move in the wrong direction or miss a step. The success of the dance requires that both partners be in sync the whole time, reading each other’s cues and moving together with the music. There is something beautiful, though, about seeing two people move together when they “get” it, to sense the chemistry and synergy of the couple as they float effortlessly across the floor.

I sense there might be something beautiful about finding ways to work with others, of learning that trust, and not having to “lead” all the time. There might be something worthwhile about slowing down and picking up the cues of those around me that might help me avoid disaster and flops. I wonder what it would be like to have that kind of chemistry and synergy on and off the dance floor.

Hmmm… I sense I have only scratched the surface. I still have much to learn here. Maybe some more dance lessons are in order?

Seeking a Heart Like His – Through Failure

See 2 Samuel 11 & 12

Sometimes even when we get it right, we are only a few small steps away from falling. And so it was with David. Just a short time after all his patient waiting, after his wisdom and grace in handling the transition to power, he finds himself in a different place. This place was one of complacency, of power, of pride – one where the king who goes out to battle with his men decides instead to stay home. The king who kept his eyes on God now puts them on a beautiful woman. Lust sets in, and then adultery, and then murder. The spiral downward is astonishingly quick and the callousness in David’s heart shocking. How could this man after God’s own heart fall so quick and so hard?

I was at a student retreat with work this past weekend. We were talking about leadership and people that have been leaders in our lives that have let us down, that have suffered tremendous moral failures. The disappointment and hurt in the stories was palpable. There is no sugar coating, no excuses that make it okay, just raw pain and wrongdoing. It’s like a sucker punch that knocks us on our feet. Talk of forgiveness is difficult, the bitterness real, and the trust broken.

As I was thinking about how to respond to the stories these students were sharing, it took me back to the place of failure in my life, when I let God down and those around me. I remember the guilt and the shame, the lies and the pain. The disappointment that just hung in the air. Nothing I could do to change it, to reverse it, to make it better.

I reminded my students of that, that any of us can find ourselves there. There is no immunity from failure, no immunization that protects us. Temptation can find us and sin can all too easily entrap us. We are all sinners in need of a Savior and in need of grace and forgiveness. There is no time when we are more aware of that need than when we utterly fail.

The story of David’s fall is humbling in so many ways. It is scary to see the fall of a great and godly man. But the hopeful and reassuring part of the story is that it wasn’t the end of David’s story. It didn’t disqualify him from being a godly man. In spite of the sin, in spite of the loss and ugliness and horror of his actions, God still loved David. He confronted David and sought Him out, not letting David hide from his sin. And when David repented, He forgave and restored David. There were steep consequences that David would have to endure, but there were still incredible moments ahead for him. Some of the most beautiful prayers come after David’s sin with Bathsheba – prayers of restoration and forgiveness, prayers leading Israel in praise and preparation for the temple and for Solomon as king, prayers of both humility and wisdom.

Maybe part of what made David a man after God’s own heart was not that he never failed but rather even in the time of his worst failure, his heart remained tender and open to correction, aware of the need for his Shepherd.