No one likes to talk about the ministry that happens behind the front lines. It's not glamorous, it doesn't feel like it's changing lives, and it can seem a whole lot like waiting. We're in one of those seasons of ministry when waiting means working and working means waiting.
Our team is working toward the launch of what we pray will be an urban church planting movement, that we all want to see happen...yesterday. Our Christ the Victor Church-planting plans and resources are being fired and hammered out and re-fired and hammered out and re-fired and there are days when it feels like a process that will never end.
Some days, when I'm drowning in project tasks, my face glued to the computer screen, and when Andrew is running errands for the ministry and serving behind the scenes, it's easy to question the impact we're having. It's easy to get frustrated and antsy and get sick of waiting. Intellectually we know that these resources, if done excellently, will help urban leaders plant churches in an effective and reproducible way in our city and beyond, but it takes big dreams and faith in our calling to wait for it.
As Advent draws to a close I find it not at all coincidental that we find ourselves not just in a figurative season of waiting, but in a season of waiting for our ministry that can be frustrating and exhausting. Our desire to see churches invade the darkest corners of our cities fills us with holy discontent, which is merely an extension of the holy discontent that filled God's people waiting for the kingdom of God to break through the skies and fill the darkest corners of our world with the light of the Son. God's people waited and waited and worked and worked and there seemed to be no point, until one night some shepherds heard the long-awaited good news.
Advent shows us that waiting on the Lord and his kingdom is never done in vain. It gives us hope to work through silence, discouragement, set-backs, confusion and even cross-eyed computer stupors and to claim the victory of the kingdom of God through Jesus Christ even in our waiting.
There was nothing glamorous about the evening the Messiah was born until the Son of God breathed his first breath of air as a baby boy. There is nothing glamorous about what our ministry team is doing until and unless the Lord uses it to break through darkness with his unquenchable light. Our hope is pinned on the proclamation of the angels who spoke of a good news for all people, extending even to the dirtiest and darkest corners of our cities.
Even as our longing finds itself in various forms of peace and impatience this season, we will work and we will wait putting every ounce of our hope, not in ourselves, but in the Lord, who leads us in victory.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Grief is a Funny Thing
My heart was pounding and I told myself not to cry. It wasn't the first time I've spoken publicly, but it certainly was the most personal presentation I've ever given. Recently I shared our testimony at an event for women and couples who have lost children in and outside the womb through miscarriage, abortion or foster care/adoption, SIDS, etc. I spoke about our recent miscarriage and shared the many and confusing emotions that have ensued in the last four months.
I made it halfway through without crying. I hate crying in public but the well of emotion spilled over when I spoke of the pain we've wrestled with in regards to our pregnancy loss: "And, because it is fairly common and because it is a less tangible form of loss it’s something that people stop talking about very quickly, and you’re left to tie up loose ends and sort of just move on with life." I stood silent for a minute before continuing, trying to keep the tears from picking up momentum.
Tying up loose ends and just moving on has never been my strong suit. I like solid and decided closure, wrongs to be made right and pains acknowledged. When life doesn't hand me those things, as it rarely does, I try to stuff the confusion and pain below the surface, avoiding the tumultuous emotions and soldiering on, because, what else is there to do? And, isn't that what people expect of us anyway?
But grief is a funny thing. Sometimes its origin and conclusion are easily identified, but often it stretches its painful fingers through time and space, swallowing a specific loss into a vacuum of all your unresolved losses. This has been true for me recently. Our miscarriage has embodied all of the loss we have experienced in the last few years, complicating the already painful emotions. Were my tears for the loss of our baby or the loss of our beloved city or the isolation we felt as we left? Were they for the years of intense ministry we saw in St. Louis and the distress of seeing so many lost and hurting? Were they tears of decompression as the physically and emotionally intense environment of North City were processed? I still can't tell you.
In the days following the service I have done a lot of thinking and healing, and realizing that I still have so far to go. The service for child loss was a beautiful moment to say out loud what hurts and to look into the eyes of others who understood your pain. It was a time to acknowledge that there is no shame in grieving and, yet, there is hope. There was a sense of closure that accompanied this acknowledgement.
Even in light of this healing experience I am realizing that I still have so far to go. There are many of our recent losses that don't have such poignant closure. Anger, anxiety, guilt, and depression, like concentric circles, can ripple outward from the point of unresolved grief. In the past few weeks I am discovering they have had more impact on my life than I even knew.
As I shared in our testimony, the Lord has been so faithful to our family. He has led us through difficult seasons of life with merciful hands, embodying for us the verses of Lamentations 3:22-24 which say, “The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.’”
These words are truth and they have been our hope, even in the darkest hours. However, just the other day I realized afresh how I often cling to these words, putting one foot in front of the other, yet don't let them penetrate the deepest places of my heart. During our Sunday service we prayed the words of Psalm 122:7 "[May] peace be within your walls" and I had to admit that there has not been peace within the walls of my heart lately. Processing again the loss of our baby along side our other losses has whipped up the hurricane winds of my mind, spewing random and entangled feelings of sadness and anxiety and guilt anew, and I need the peace of Christ to calm the storm. I find myself frustrated by the one step forward, two steps back, process of healing.
On one hand healing is such a complicated process and yet on the other hand it's not, for in all things the answer is Christ. I don't know if I'll ever be better at handling the loose ends of life, but I can be better at acknowledging my need for and surrender to Christ in all situations. It is he who brings about the healing.
His mercies are new every morning. He is my Hope. He is my Peace. He is my Healer.
I made it halfway through without crying. I hate crying in public but the well of emotion spilled over when I spoke of the pain we've wrestled with in regards to our pregnancy loss: "And, because it is fairly common and because it is a less tangible form of loss it’s something that people stop talking about very quickly, and you’re left to tie up loose ends and sort of just move on with life." I stood silent for a minute before continuing, trying to keep the tears from picking up momentum.
Tying up loose ends and just moving on has never been my strong suit. I like solid and decided closure, wrongs to be made right and pains acknowledged. When life doesn't hand me those things, as it rarely does, I try to stuff the confusion and pain below the surface, avoiding the tumultuous emotions and soldiering on, because, what else is there to do? And, isn't that what people expect of us anyway?
But grief is a funny thing. Sometimes its origin and conclusion are easily identified, but often it stretches its painful fingers through time and space, swallowing a specific loss into a vacuum of all your unresolved losses. This has been true for me recently. Our miscarriage has embodied all of the loss we have experienced in the last few years, complicating the already painful emotions. Were my tears for the loss of our baby or the loss of our beloved city or the isolation we felt as we left? Were they for the years of intense ministry we saw in St. Louis and the distress of seeing so many lost and hurting? Were they tears of decompression as the physically and emotionally intense environment of North City were processed? I still can't tell you.
In the days following the service I have done a lot of thinking and healing, and realizing that I still have so far to go. The service for child loss was a beautiful moment to say out loud what hurts and to look into the eyes of others who understood your pain. It was a time to acknowledge that there is no shame in grieving and, yet, there is hope. There was a sense of closure that accompanied this acknowledgement.
Even in light of this healing experience I am realizing that I still have so far to go. There are many of our recent losses that don't have such poignant closure. Anger, anxiety, guilt, and depression, like concentric circles, can ripple outward from the point of unresolved grief. In the past few weeks I am discovering they have had more impact on my life than I even knew.
As I shared in our testimony, the Lord has been so faithful to our family. He has led us through difficult seasons of life with merciful hands, embodying for us the verses of Lamentations 3:22-24 which say, “The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.’”
These words are truth and they have been our hope, even in the darkest hours. However, just the other day I realized afresh how I often cling to these words, putting one foot in front of the other, yet don't let them penetrate the deepest places of my heart. During our Sunday service we prayed the words of Psalm 122:7 "[May] peace be within your walls" and I had to admit that there has not been peace within the walls of my heart lately. Processing again the loss of our baby along side our other losses has whipped up the hurricane winds of my mind, spewing random and entangled feelings of sadness and anxiety and guilt anew, and I need the peace of Christ to calm the storm. I find myself frustrated by the one step forward, two steps back, process of healing.
On one hand healing is such a complicated process and yet on the other hand it's not, for in all things the answer is Christ. I don't know if I'll ever be better at handling the loose ends of life, but I can be better at acknowledging my need for and surrender to Christ in all situations. It is he who brings about the healing.
His mercies are new every morning. He is my Hope. He is my Peace. He is my Healer.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Birth Mama
It was the night before the first meeting and I ran around anxiously prepping for the big day. I obsessively trimmed Little Nut's hair; scrubbed his dirty, scuffed shoes; picked out the perfect outfit and then picked out a perfect backup outfit for when the perfect outfit got stained or crumpled during our long drive.
While scrubbing little hands and toes and conditioning hair and skin excessively, I kept thinking about how I would ever measure up as a mom. If the situation were reversed would anyone be good enough to be called my son's Mama? In light of my unspoken answer, that question circled anxiously through my mind. I'm a good mom, but how do you prepare yourself to look into the eyes of the one who gave your son life?
I fell asleep that night reminding myself of the many prayers going before us and asked the Lord one more time for our meeting with J, Little Nut's birth mom, to be grace-filled. The prayer mixed in with random thoughts: What will it be like when we first see each other? How will she interact with our son? What will we talk about? Are we sure this is the right timing for this? What will she think of us? Will our differing skin tones be a tense topic of conversation? And then, Lord, let it be grace-filled. Amen.
Early the next morning we packed the car with all of my anxiously over-prepared excess and started off on a road trip that was like any other and yet not. Little Nut talked the entire time, a little about the upcoming meeting, but mostly about superheroes and cartoon characters and snack foods. I tried to take deep breaths between bouts of excitement and nervousness. We laughed, we got on each others' nerves, we took a few wrong turns. And then, we arrived.
We arrived first and sat waiting, me trying to secretly air out my sweating palms so our first hand shake wouldn't be a moist one, Little Nut asking over and over when J would arrive. After a few moments of anticipating we recognized her face from a recent photo she sent us. Andrew and I turned and I waved so she would see us. I held my breath. She smiled, a bright and genuine smile. Andrew, who rarely feels the awkwardness of moments, embraced her. I followed suit and the moment I had built up in my mind, felt surprisingly normal.
For the next few hours I watched another set of mother's eyes taking in each little laugh, each silly conversation, and each little feature of my son...of our son. J quickly ceased being a stranger to me, because we looked at Little Nut through the same eyes. Both mamas. One as the woman that gave birth to him and longs for him every day, and the other who gets to hug him and teach him things and put him to bed every night. My heart hurt for her loss even as I rejoiced in my gain.
We laughed and talked, had a few nervous moments, and shared openly about the challenges inherent in our situation. We listened to her dreams of a redeemed life and shared the reality of redemption God had already given us all in Little Nut. Strange and normal and awkward and deep feelings came in waves until it was time to go. I felt guilty as we parted, Andrew and I with the beautiful gift of our son, and her with empty hands and memories that would be both joyful and full of pain.
A lady said to Little Nut as we left, "Was that your Mom?" He nodded, and in place of jealousy, I thought, one of them, because he will always have two. She will always be the mama who saw him come into the world, who shares the color of his skin, the contour of his nose, the shape of his lips,and the history of his biological family. And through God's grace, I will always be the mama who teaches him to write his letters, reads stories to him, talks to him daily about God and Batman and is driven crazy by his enthusiastic energy, and for no other reason than we serve a gracious and redeeming God, I also get to be called Mama.
I hardly know what the future holds for our relationship with J, I only know the next step, and the one after that, is grace. Grace for Little Nut as he grows and tries to process it all. Grace for Andrew and I as we navigate living out parenthood after adoption. Grace for J as she hopes for change and lives each day with a piece of her heart set in our hands.
While scrubbing little hands and toes and conditioning hair and skin excessively, I kept thinking about how I would ever measure up as a mom. If the situation were reversed would anyone be good enough to be called my son's Mama? In light of my unspoken answer, that question circled anxiously through my mind. I'm a good mom, but how do you prepare yourself to look into the eyes of the one who gave your son life?
I fell asleep that night reminding myself of the many prayers going before us and asked the Lord one more time for our meeting with J, Little Nut's birth mom, to be grace-filled. The prayer mixed in with random thoughts: What will it be like when we first see each other? How will she interact with our son? What will we talk about? Are we sure this is the right timing for this? What will she think of us? Will our differing skin tones be a tense topic of conversation? And then, Lord, let it be grace-filled. Amen.
Early the next morning we packed the car with all of my anxiously over-prepared excess and started off on a road trip that was like any other and yet not. Little Nut talked the entire time, a little about the upcoming meeting, but mostly about superheroes and cartoon characters and snack foods. I tried to take deep breaths between bouts of excitement and nervousness. We laughed, we got on each others' nerves, we took a few wrong turns. And then, we arrived.
We arrived first and sat waiting, me trying to secretly air out my sweating palms so our first hand shake wouldn't be a moist one, Little Nut asking over and over when J would arrive. After a few moments of anticipating we recognized her face from a recent photo she sent us. Andrew and I turned and I waved so she would see us. I held my breath. She smiled, a bright and genuine smile. Andrew, who rarely feels the awkwardness of moments, embraced her. I followed suit and the moment I had built up in my mind, felt surprisingly normal.
We laughed and talked, had a few nervous moments, and shared openly about the challenges inherent in our situation. We listened to her dreams of a redeemed life and shared the reality of redemption God had already given us all in Little Nut. Strange and normal and awkward and deep feelings came in waves until it was time to go. I felt guilty as we parted, Andrew and I with the beautiful gift of our son, and her with empty hands and memories that would be both joyful and full of pain.
A lady said to Little Nut as we left, "Was that your Mom?" He nodded, and in place of jealousy, I thought, one of them, because he will always have two. She will always be the mama who saw him come into the world, who shares the color of his skin, the contour of his nose, the shape of his lips,and the history of his biological family. And through God's grace, I will always be the mama who teaches him to write his letters, reads stories to him, talks to him daily about God and Batman and is driven crazy by his enthusiastic energy, and for no other reason than we serve a gracious and redeeming God, I also get to be called Mama.
I hardly know what the future holds for our relationship with J, I only know the next step, and the one after that, is grace. Grace for Little Nut as he grows and tries to process it all. Grace for Andrew and I as we navigate living out parenthood after adoption. Grace for J as she hopes for change and lives each day with a piece of her heart set in our hands.
Friday, July 26, 2013
You Give and Take Away
Five and a half years ago Andrew and I chose “Blessed Be Your Name” to be sung at our wedding. We both loved the song and wanted our marriage
to be founded on the principle that in the face of all things we could say “You give and take
away/ [Our] heart[s] will choose to say/ Lord, blessed be Your name.” And, then
came the hardest five and a half years of our lives. Marriage challenges have followed,
as have health issues and serious family problems, we have lost three
grandparents, we have struggled in ministry, experienced violence and traumas
while living in the city, reached complete ministry burn out, lost
relationships we trusted, our willingness to serve and praise the Lord in all
circumstances being continually tested.
This last year has, perhaps, been one of the hardest yet. However, the extreme highs and lows have highlighted for us the constancy of our God. Through great losses and great gains we have determined to commit ourselves, however imperfectly, to serve and bless the Lord whether it be in a season of loss or gain, because those seasons have continued to roll over us unceasingly.
July 20th we celebrated the one-year anniversary of Judah’s adoption. Both sets of our parents joined us for the day to celebrate what a gift he has been to us. It was also a day we spent grieving the loss of our second child. Only the day before we had learned that at eight weeks pregnant I had miscarried. In one weekend we both thanked God for the incredible gift of Judah and grieved the loss of the child God took to be with Him. It is no coincidence that the song replaying constantly in my mind has been “You give and take away/ My heart will choose to say/ Lord, blessed be Your name.”
In the last week we have begun to wrestle with the loss of someone we never got to know, whose face we never got to see, and of whom our only memories are a pregnancy test and a month and a half of all-day “morning sickness.” Miscarrying has proven to be a personal and rather violating experience as a woman, and the feelings of loss for both Andrew and I are confusing to say the least. And yet, by God’s mercy, we have been able to hold Judah close and take joy in the blessing of our son.
While in the throes of grief and joy last weekend I couldn’t help but think about how odd it was that exactly one year ago, on Judah’s adoption day, we were in the same wrestle with loss and gain. The inexplicable, and yet somehow perfect, timing of God has paired the celebration of one of our greatest gifts with some of our toughest losses. Last year, surrounded by family and joyfully welcoming Judah as our forever son, we also grieved the dwindling days we had left in St. Louis, the unexpected loss of our friends and community, the great confusion and lack of support we felt, and the disappointment in relationships we had trusted.
But, in the midst of it all, God has been faithful.
Don’t think in the last year, or even in the last week, we haven’t asked God “why?”, but it hasn’t proved to be a very helpful question. The answers, I assume, lie in the delicate tangle of a fallen, sinful world and a holy, all-knowing God...not something we will ever fully understand. The only thing we can do in the face of life’s pain, disappointments, and joys, is to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, who never changes, never ceases to love us, and whose mercies are new every morning.
We know every gift is from the Lord and every loss is made bearable in light of the loving God we serve. We will choose to bless His name, whether through tears or laughter, and rest in the knowledge that one day He will right every injustice, bring an end to every pain, and unite all His people in unending joy.
This last year has, perhaps, been one of the hardest yet. However, the extreme highs and lows have highlighted for us the constancy of our God. Through great losses and great gains we have determined to commit ourselves, however imperfectly, to serve and bless the Lord whether it be in a season of loss or gain, because those seasons have continued to roll over us unceasingly.
July 20th we celebrated the one-year anniversary of Judah’s adoption. Both sets of our parents joined us for the day to celebrate what a gift he has been to us. It was also a day we spent grieving the loss of our second child. Only the day before we had learned that at eight weeks pregnant I had miscarried. In one weekend we both thanked God for the incredible gift of Judah and grieved the loss of the child God took to be with Him. It is no coincidence that the song replaying constantly in my mind has been “You give and take away/ My heart will choose to say/ Lord, blessed be Your name.”
In the last week we have begun to wrestle with the loss of someone we never got to know, whose face we never got to see, and of whom our only memories are a pregnancy test and a month and a half of all-day “morning sickness.” Miscarrying has proven to be a personal and rather violating experience as a woman, and the feelings of loss for both Andrew and I are confusing to say the least. And yet, by God’s mercy, we have been able to hold Judah close and take joy in the blessing of our son.
While in the throes of grief and joy last weekend I couldn’t help but think about how odd it was that exactly one year ago, on Judah’s adoption day, we were in the same wrestle with loss and gain. The inexplicable, and yet somehow perfect, timing of God has paired the celebration of one of our greatest gifts with some of our toughest losses. Last year, surrounded by family and joyfully welcoming Judah as our forever son, we also grieved the dwindling days we had left in St. Louis, the unexpected loss of our friends and community, the great confusion and lack of support we felt, and the disappointment in relationships we had trusted.
But, in the midst of it all, God has been faithful.
Don’t think in the last year, or even in the last week, we haven’t asked God “why?”, but it hasn’t proved to be a very helpful question. The answers, I assume, lie in the delicate tangle of a fallen, sinful world and a holy, all-knowing God...not something we will ever fully understand. The only thing we can do in the face of life’s pain, disappointments, and joys, is to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, who never changes, never ceases to love us, and whose mercies are new every morning.
We know every gift is from the Lord and every loss is made bearable in light of the loving God we serve. We will choose to bless His name, whether through tears or laughter, and rest in the knowledge that one day He will right every injustice, bring an end to every pain, and unite all His people in unending joy.
Judah Medlen Day 2013
2013 - Psalm 139.13-16
Sunday, April 28, 2013
One Boy's Dream to be Darth Vader
It's a blessing to have a kid who rolls with ministry life so well. He "works" at his desk in our office, runs errands, attends prayer meetings, takes naps on the go, eats dinner anywhere from 5-8pm and all with a (mostly) sunny disposition.
As any four-year-old boy, Little Nut is completely obsessed with Superheroes and Darth Vader. All day long we hear, "Does Darth Vader live in a dark house? Darth Vader has big boots! What can Batman do? I want to fight the bad guys! Does Superman shoot lasers from his eyes? Is the Hulk nice? I might be the Hulk!"
So, today we took a little time to enjoy the beautiful day and fulfill a little boy's dream:
As any four-year-old boy, Little Nut is completely obsessed with Superheroes and Darth Vader. All day long we hear, "Does Darth Vader live in a dark house? Darth Vader has big boots! What can Batman do? I want to fight the bad guys! Does Superman shoot lasers from his eyes? Is the Hulk nice? I might be the Hulk!"
So, today we took a little time to enjoy the beautiful day and fulfill a little boy's dream:
Monday, April 22, 2013
Changes Ahead: The Medlen Journey Continued
As I sit here I am thinking of all the things our family has been through this last year. Some of them were amazing and wonderful, like the adoption of our Little Nut! Some of them were heart-breaking, confusing, and difficult. And boy, have we seen our fair share of change this year! Yet, the one constant through all of the shifting seasons of life has been the Lord. He is so faithful--faithful to lead, to love, to redirect, to heal, to strengthen.
And, in light of God's boundless grace and enduring faithfulness, what can our family do but respond with complete openness and surrender to Him?
In the last few months the Lord has increasingly laid on our hearts the call to be part of a church planting movement among the urban poor. This call and burden for the city is what has tethered us to World Impact, even through the darkest of days. Our desire to be open to the Holy Spirit has now opened the door to a new opportunity for our family. One that we are excited and passionate about.
Starting in June we will be transitioning once again, still within World Impact and for now, still in Wichita. Our roles will be shifting to a church planting focus and we will be working with the Wichita staff primarily through their Christ the Victor (CTV) church planting efforts. The prayer of our staff is that CTV will become a movement of churches for the urban poor.
We love Christ the Victor because it proclaims to the broken and oppressed that our Lord is victorious and no earthly limitations can bind the strong arm of Jesus Christ. Our cities yearn for this message. CTV is in a season of strengthening and deepening its mission, vision and strategies and we are privileged to participate in the efforts to more effectively facilitate church planting movements in the cities of American and the world.
Even in our excitement there is a sense of loss as we close another chapter in our story and journey on to the next. God has used so many things in the last year to bring us to this point, not the least of which has been our time and the staff at The Urban Ministry Institute (TUMI). We came to serve with TUMI, not knowing what God had planned, but trusting in His provision and leading. We have been blessed abundantly.
To serve with men and women who take seriously their calling and serve the Lord with love and fervor and sacrifice has been a privilege and an honor. We did not (and still do not) see our time with TUMI as a stepping stone to other ministry, but as an act of unexpected grace from our Father, as He is refining our family for His purposes.
Even in nine short months, the staff at TUMI has become our family. They embraced us with love and acceptance in a difficult season of our lives and spoke the truth of the Lord into us in ways that brought healing, strength and clarity. They challenged us to serve with sacrifice and vision, never forgetting our purpose on this earth or what we ought to be willing to do to fulfill it.
Our family is more certain than ever of the burden God has laid on our hearts to see the cities won for Christ and more determined to do whatever is necessary to follow the Lord in this endeavor,
A verse that the Lord has continued to bring to our attention in the last nine months is Exodus 14:14 "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." We have clung to this promise, knowing that the battle is the Lord's to win. When the Lord is advancing, there is none who can stand in His path. Too often I so badly want to make things happen, or right wrongs on my own, not acknowledging that if it is something that the Lord wants to accomplish I need only wait on His timing and follow His lead.
Our family is determined to follow closely behind the Lord as He advances His Kingdom in the cities. We have done this, and will continue to do this imperfectly, but we know that there is no other place we would rather be and no greater effort for which we would expend all of our energy, than to win souls for Christ.
Please pray for our family through the next few weeks as we make this transition.
And, in light of God's boundless grace and enduring faithfulness, what can our family do but respond with complete openness and surrender to Him?
In the last few months the Lord has increasingly laid on our hearts the call to be part of a church planting movement among the urban poor. This call and burden for the city is what has tethered us to World Impact, even through the darkest of days. Our desire to be open to the Holy Spirit has now opened the door to a new opportunity for our family. One that we are excited and passionate about.
Starting in June we will be transitioning once again, still within World Impact and for now, still in Wichita. Our roles will be shifting to a church planting focus and we will be working with the Wichita staff primarily through their Christ the Victor (CTV) church planting efforts. The prayer of our staff is that CTV will become a movement of churches for the urban poor.
We love Christ the Victor because it proclaims to the broken and oppressed that our Lord is victorious and no earthly limitations can bind the strong arm of Jesus Christ. Our cities yearn for this message. CTV is in a season of strengthening and deepening its mission, vision and strategies and we are privileged to participate in the efforts to more effectively facilitate church planting movements in the cities of American and the world.
Even in our excitement there is a sense of loss as we close another chapter in our story and journey on to the next. God has used so many things in the last year to bring us to this point, not the least of which has been our time and the staff at The Urban Ministry Institute (TUMI). We came to serve with TUMI, not knowing what God had planned, but trusting in His provision and leading. We have been blessed abundantly.
To serve with men and women who take seriously their calling and serve the Lord with love and fervor and sacrifice has been a privilege and an honor. We did not (and still do not) see our time with TUMI as a stepping stone to other ministry, but as an act of unexpected grace from our Father, as He is refining our family for His purposes.
Even in nine short months, the staff at TUMI has become our family. They embraced us with love and acceptance in a difficult season of our lives and spoke the truth of the Lord into us in ways that brought healing, strength and clarity. They challenged us to serve with sacrifice and vision, never forgetting our purpose on this earth or what we ought to be willing to do to fulfill it.
Our family is more certain than ever of the burden God has laid on our hearts to see the cities won for Christ and more determined to do whatever is necessary to follow the Lord in this endeavor,
A verse that the Lord has continued to bring to our attention in the last nine months is Exodus 14:14 "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." We have clung to this promise, knowing that the battle is the Lord's to win. When the Lord is advancing, there is none who can stand in His path. Too often I so badly want to make things happen, or right wrongs on my own, not acknowledging that if it is something that the Lord wants to accomplish I need only wait on His timing and follow His lead.
Our family is determined to follow closely behind the Lord as He advances His Kingdom in the cities. We have done this, and will continue to do this imperfectly, but we know that there is no other place we would rather be and no greater effort for which we would expend all of our energy, than to win souls for Christ.
Please pray for our family through the next few weeks as we make this transition.
- Pray that God would continue to pave the way for our family and that we would respond to His leading. Pray for peace in the Lord as we make yet another transition.
- Pray for TUMI, a ministry and staff that is so dear to our hearts. God is doing amazing things to raise up leaders through this ministry, so many amazing things that it is surely the Lord who will be the one to accomplish them because there are few laborers and an abundant harvest. Pray for God to provide for their every need and bless their unwavering commitment to serve the Lord through the urban poor. Pray for laborers!
- Pray for the Wichita staff and the Christ the Victor Church Planting efforts. We want our efforts to strengthen CTV to be firmly rooted in Christ and completely contextualized for effectiveness in the city. The church is the answer to winning our cities for Christ. Pray that the Spirit would guide our plans and efforts and that the Lord would start a revival in our cities through the urban poor!
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Holy Week: Preparing our Hearts
As a society, we spend little time in contemplation. We're busy, so busy that we usually just run ourselves ragged right up until a moment of significance and hope that the depth of the moment will leap out at us. It doesn't work. The important moment hustles past with the rest of life and we are left with a somewhat hallow experience.
Without proper anticipation we cannot feel the excitement and full impact of resolution!
As Christians, we are days away from the most important celebration of our faith. We'll be planning family events and purchasing new Easter outfits, meanwhile, our hearts are left unprepared for the climax of the Christian year.
Don't let the Resurrection sneak up on you! Take this week to quiet your hearts and minds and give yourself over to the story and anticipation. On Sunday we celebrated Palm Sunday and let our hearts be glad for the arrival of the King! Later this week we meditate on the Passion of our Lord, as He willingly went to the cross. And, then we wait, with solemn anticipation for the moment the whole world has waited for...the Resurrection!
Here are some resources to help you prepare your heart this week:
Without proper anticipation we cannot feel the excitement and full impact of resolution!
As Christians, we are days away from the most important celebration of our faith. We'll be planning family events and purchasing new Easter outfits, meanwhile, our hearts are left unprepared for the climax of the Christian year.
Don't let the Resurrection sneak up on you! Take this week to quiet your hearts and minds and give yourself over to the story and anticipation. On Sunday we celebrated Palm Sunday and let our hearts be glad for the arrival of the King! Later this week we meditate on the Passion of our Lord, as He willingly went to the cross. And, then we wait, with solemn anticipation for the moment the whole world has waited for...the Resurrection!
Here are some resources to help you prepare your heart this week:
- HOLY WEEK: Daily devotions and scripture readings are available on The Urban Ministry Institute's online Church Year Annual. For Holy Week visit here.
- PALM SUNDAY: A sermon by Rev. Dr. Don L. Davis (sermons available late Monday or Tuesday of each week)
- GOOD FRIDAY: I prepared a booklet for personal or corporate meditation. Good Friday:Meditation and Prayer on the Last Seven Sayings of Christ. (It is meant to be printed double sided and folded in the middle in booklet form.)
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Set the World on Fire
Driving in the car, listening to Lacrae's song "Fuego" I suddenly thought, how did we get here? Dull and impotent shadows of ourselves, a society of Christians more concerned with the safety of morality than living in the power of the God of the universe. The holy fire of the Spirit being suffocated inside our need for control, when it should be consuming us from the inside out, setting the world on fire with God's glory.
I mean, do we even look like who we are? The fathers and mothers of the faith taught us that being a Christian means so much more than following a moral code, attending church services, and volunteering. During the explosion of the early church, we saw a birth of a people who were wild with abandon, embracing the cross rather than running from it. Christians were families who walked the outskirts of town looking for abandoned babies who were left to die, carrying them home and raising them as their own. Christians were those torn to pieces by lions in Rome. Christians were the apostles, preaching to thousands and boldly declaring truth to persecuting authorities. Christians are missionaries who go to their deaths, even as they take the Gospel to the ends of the earth. Christians openly embrace the sick and the dying. Christians burn at the stake. Christians embrace sinners with Christ-like redeeming love.
We are Christians.
When did we become so domesticated? We've lost our first love...Jesus. Instead we love tame and controllable morality. We love love that doesn't take us to the cross.
What the heck are we doing?
Kevin DeYoung says it well, “The world needs to see Christians burning, not with self-righteous fury at the sliding morals in our country, but with passion for God.” We must unleash the fire in our heart and let the Spirit burn through all the safety nets we've built for ourselves, until all we can see is God's hands holding us.
Then we'll have nothing to live for but Jesus and He can use that kind of abandon to set the world on fire with His glory. To quote Lacrae, "Get your torches high let's set ablaze the sky/Passion's a fire bright and we'll be burning forever/Set the world on fire."
Lecrae "Fuego"
I mean, do we even look like who we are? The fathers and mothers of the faith taught us that being a Christian means so much more than following a moral code, attending church services, and volunteering. During the explosion of the early church, we saw a birth of a people who were wild with abandon, embracing the cross rather than running from it. Christians were families who walked the outskirts of town looking for abandoned babies who were left to die, carrying them home and raising them as their own. Christians were those torn to pieces by lions in Rome. Christians were the apostles, preaching to thousands and boldly declaring truth to persecuting authorities. Christians are missionaries who go to their deaths, even as they take the Gospel to the ends of the earth. Christians openly embrace the sick and the dying. Christians burn at the stake. Christians embrace sinners with Christ-like redeeming love.
We are Christians.
When did we become so domesticated? We've lost our first love...Jesus. Instead we love tame and controllable morality. We love love that doesn't take us to the cross.
What the heck are we doing?
Kevin DeYoung says it well, “The world needs to see Christians burning, not with self-righteous fury at the sliding morals in our country, but with passion for God.” We must unleash the fire in our heart and let the Spirit burn through all the safety nets we've built for ourselves, until all we can see is God's hands holding us.
Then we'll have nothing to live for but Jesus and He can use that kind of abandon to set the world on fire with His glory. To quote Lacrae, "Get your torches high let's set ablaze the sky/Passion's a fire bright and we'll be burning forever/Set the world on fire."
Lecrae "Fuego"
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Lent: A Call to Freedom and Maturity
This Lenten season I have been thinking a lot about freedom in Christ. Perhaps, not a completely traditional theme for Lent, but I've been pondering the sense of freedom that comes when you release everything that is not Christ.
I am in Christ, and therefore free of the pull that the world has on me. I am free from fighting for my personal "rights," free from expectations about my life, free from materialism...all things the world promises will bring fulfillment, yet, do not. And still, my flesh spends so much of my waning energy on things that don't matter, when Christ offers me a yoke that is easy, and a burden that is light (Matt. 11.30). It is for freedom that Christ set us free (Gal. 5.1)!
Recently, God has been speaking to our family about release...release from the things that hinder us from following Christ wholly. The way our culture feeds us lies about our rights and our need for comforts, it seems counter-intuitive to find joy and freedom in the absence of these things, but there is. We are experiencing it a little more each day.
Lent reminds us that we can be gloriously free from everything that is not Christ, but, it also exhorts us to a maturity that accepts all that is.
Freedom comes at a cost, namely Christ's, but Lent is a season that we remind ourselves that, as followers of Christ, we share in the lowliness and suffering of Christ as well. How can we expect to share in the freedom and not in the lowliness?
Yet, even in this there is freedom--the freedom to choose maturity and the road to Calvary, as Christ did. In Gethsemane our Lord prayed, "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will." (Mat. 26:39). Christ chose to drink from the cup of suffering. Only hours before he asked His disciples to also share in this cup at the Lord's Supper. It is offered to you and to me as well. Will we drink of the cup Christ shared in, or do we imagine ourselves exempt?
In Christ we are free to choose freedom in the Spirit or to choose the bondage of our flesh. It seems like an obvious choice, but it takes maturity in Christ to find the resolve to do it, for choosing to walk in the Spirit, as in Christ's life, will often lead us directly into suffering.
Yet, Lent also reminds us that our God did not call us to a path He was not Himself willing to walk. We follow the footsteps of Jesus Christ, who was unwavering in His journey to the cross. He offers to walk beside us if we will hold on to His hand with everything we have. As Christians, our greatest aim is to be like Christ. So, let us use this season to refocus and recommit ourselves to the path He, and so many saints before us, have trod...the lowly path to eternal glory.
This Lent faithfully walk in freedom, walk in maturity, walk in humility, knowing that our Lord walks with us.
I am in Christ, and therefore free of the pull that the world has on me. I am free from fighting for my personal "rights," free from expectations about my life, free from materialism...all things the world promises will bring fulfillment, yet, do not. And still, my flesh spends so much of my waning energy on things that don't matter, when Christ offers me a yoke that is easy, and a burden that is light (Matt. 11.30). It is for freedom that Christ set us free (Gal. 5.1)!
Recently, God has been speaking to our family about release...release from the things that hinder us from following Christ wholly. The way our culture feeds us lies about our rights and our need for comforts, it seems counter-intuitive to find joy and freedom in the absence of these things, but there is. We are experiencing it a little more each day.
Lent reminds us that we can be gloriously free from everything that is not Christ, but, it also exhorts us to a maturity that accepts all that is.
Freedom comes at a cost, namely Christ's, but Lent is a season that we remind ourselves that, as followers of Christ, we share in the lowliness and suffering of Christ as well. How can we expect to share in the freedom and not in the lowliness?
Yet, even in this there is freedom--the freedom to choose maturity and the road to Calvary, as Christ did. In Gethsemane our Lord prayed, "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will." (Mat. 26:39). Christ chose to drink from the cup of suffering. Only hours before he asked His disciples to also share in this cup at the Lord's Supper. It is offered to you and to me as well. Will we drink of the cup Christ shared in, or do we imagine ourselves exempt?
In Christ we are free to choose freedom in the Spirit or to choose the bondage of our flesh. It seems like an obvious choice, but it takes maturity in Christ to find the resolve to do it, for choosing to walk in the Spirit, as in Christ's life, will often lead us directly into suffering.
Yet, Lent also reminds us that our God did not call us to a path He was not Himself willing to walk. We follow the footsteps of Jesus Christ, who was unwavering in His journey to the cross. He offers to walk beside us if we will hold on to His hand with everything we have. As Christians, our greatest aim is to be like Christ. So, let us use this season to refocus and recommit ourselves to the path He, and so many saints before us, have trod...the lowly path to eternal glory.
This Lent faithfully walk in freedom, walk in maturity, walk in humility, knowing that our Lord walks with us.
For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you.”
Isaiah 41:13
Monday, February 4, 2013
Too Much Stuff to Go?
Recently, Andrew and I have been talking about how ready we are to answer God's call. We determined that we aren't as ready as we thought.
Our years as inner-city missionaries and the last year of transition have helped us look at things different, it's true, but we have so much more to learn. We never expected to leave St. Louis, but we have since realized that we weren't really thinking like missionaries. A missionary is on a mission, and any good mission has a beginning, middle, and, most importantly, an end. The last thing a good missionary should ever do is become entrenched. This is not to say that staying in one place for a long period of time is a bad thing, but it should be done because God directs it, not because it's hard to leave. Staying should be as active a decision as leaving and we must be ready to stay or to go at God's command.
Along with a change in thinking we realized that we needed a lifestyle change. If we are to be ready to be on mission, we need to be able to travel light. WE. DO. NOT. TRAVEL. LIGHT. We have stuff upon stuff--too much stuff. It's happened gradually, mainly because we don't get rid of things. We both get sentimental and I'm cheap...if I paid for it once I don't want to have to buy it again someday. But, it's hard to move stuff and I cringe when I think about ever having to move again. If stuff becomes a hindrance to joyfully following my Savior then it's got to go! Plus, Andrew heard a news story about clutter where the "expert" reminded people that almost everything that clutters up our homes can be replaced for $20 in 20 min, which I have found to be fairly accurate as I mentally catalog our junk.
So, we have begun a purge project in our house. I'm sure what we feel is a huge cut may still seem small to others, but we have to start somewhere. What it really requires is a lifestyle change, which is a process, but we are committed to making a change!
The last thing we would ever want is for stuff to be the reason we can't follow (or don't want to follow) Jesus anywhere He may ask us to go.
Our years as inner-city missionaries and the last year of transition have helped us look at things different, it's true, but we have so much more to learn. We never expected to leave St. Louis, but we have since realized that we weren't really thinking like missionaries. A missionary is on a mission, and any good mission has a beginning, middle, and, most importantly, an end. The last thing a good missionary should ever do is become entrenched. This is not to say that staying in one place for a long period of time is a bad thing, but it should be done because God directs it, not because it's hard to leave. Staying should be as active a decision as leaving and we must be ready to stay or to go at God's command.
Along with a change in thinking we realized that we needed a lifestyle change. If we are to be ready to be on mission, we need to be able to travel light. WE. DO. NOT. TRAVEL. LIGHT. We have stuff upon stuff--too much stuff. It's happened gradually, mainly because we don't get rid of things. We both get sentimental and I'm cheap...if I paid for it once I don't want to have to buy it again someday. But, it's hard to move stuff and I cringe when I think about ever having to move again. If stuff becomes a hindrance to joyfully following my Savior then it's got to go! Plus, Andrew heard a news story about clutter where the "expert" reminded people that almost everything that clutters up our homes can be replaced for $20 in 20 min, which I have found to be fairly accurate as I mentally catalog our junk.So, we have begun a purge project in our house. I'm sure what we feel is a huge cut may still seem small to others, but we have to start somewhere. What it really requires is a lifestyle change, which is a process, but we are committed to making a change!
The last thing we would ever want is for stuff to be the reason we can't follow (or don't want to follow) Jesus anywhere He may ask us to go.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
A Psalm of Mama
A song of the exhausted mother. Accompanied by the piercing cries of small children and dinner boiling over on the stove.
O, Lord, I feel weary and oppressed.
My patience has withered beneath a sun that seems never to set;
the relief of bedtime always just out of reach.
I am assaulted with questions until I feel I will go mad.
I have grown weary of my own name.
The "Mama" that once made me glad,
has become a scourge upon my ears.
Little hands and crying faces press in on me from all sides;
I am surrounded by needs that are never satiated.
Dishes and laundry conspire against me--
multiplying at an impossible rate.
I am in a desperate way.
My only sanctuary is the bathroom,
while a little person stands outside the door asking,
"What are you doing in there?"
Even a full night's sleep cannot banish this exhaustion.
Will I ever again complete a day feeling sane?
I am done in, yet, I will not despair;
the Lord is my true salvation,
because Dora the Explorer only lasts twenty-four minutes.
Patience elludes me except by Your Spirit,
and gentleness in the face of blatent disobedience is what I long for.
I will take joy in the moments when "Mama" is accompanied by "I love you,"
and not, "I pooped in my pants."
I will meditate on Your words--
the ones printed on the decorative plaque,
across from the couch,
where I find my glassy-eyed, quiet place while my child naps.
When my alarm clock wakes me from a dead sleep,
and I am tempted to curse the sun's consistency,
I will try to remember this is the day the Lord has made,
and children are a blessing from the Lord,
and then REJOICE,
for soon these years will be gone and I will miss them--
proof that motherhood really does kill brain cells.
Selah.
O, Lord, I feel weary and oppressed.
My patience has withered beneath a sun that seems never to set;
the relief of bedtime always just out of reach.
I am assaulted with questions until I feel I will go mad.
I have grown weary of my own name.
The "Mama" that once made me glad,
has become a scourge upon my ears.
Little hands and crying faces press in on me from all sides;
I am surrounded by needs that are never satiated.
Dishes and laundry conspire against me--
multiplying at an impossible rate.
I am in a desperate way.
My only sanctuary is the bathroom,
while a little person stands outside the door asking,
"What are you doing in there?"
Even a full night's sleep cannot banish this exhaustion.
Will I ever again complete a day feeling sane?
I am done in, yet, I will not despair;
the Lord is my true salvation,
because Dora the Explorer only lasts twenty-four minutes.
Patience elludes me except by Your Spirit,
and gentleness in the face of blatent disobedience is what I long for.
I will take joy in the moments when "Mama" is accompanied by "I love you,"
and not, "I pooped in my pants."
I will meditate on Your words--
the ones printed on the decorative plaque,
across from the couch,
where I find my glassy-eyed, quiet place while my child naps.
When my alarm clock wakes me from a dead sleep,
and I am tempted to curse the sun's consistency,
I will try to remember this is the day the Lord has made,
and children are a blessing from the Lord,
and then REJOICE,
for soon these years will be gone and I will miss them--
proof that motherhood really does kill brain cells.
Selah.
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