Out Of Control

For years it has been pounded into our brains that we are able to control the circumstances in our lives. The moment something seems out of control, we are supposed to force it back under our dominion using our personality, our money and/or our influence. Someone said, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." That statement may bring us a smile, but real life can leave us trying to micro-manage every detail, preparing for every surprise. To be caught unawares without a way to fix our unforeseen problem is just not acceptable to most of us…

…until something spins out of control and we don’t know where to turn.

Last Thursday, 28 of us touched down at the international terminal of JFK with no knowledge that our plans had already been jettisoned. Veterans of this route commented at how our flight from Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic to NYC took place in record time. We were on the way home with full hearts and tired bodies, ready to clear U.S. Customs, change terminals and climb aboard the plane that would take us back to Arizona. Everyone seemed to have a spring in their step and a bit of excitement in their voice as we made our way through re-entry into the United States. A few of the group began receiving messages, though, that our flight from JFK to PHX was cancelled. What could that mean?

An hour or so later, we were huddled in the departure area of our airline, waiting for Lyndsee, who led the trip with her husband Mark, to find out our options. As she discussed those options with airline employees, they were ferried back to our group who stood waiting. Long story short, most of us were stuck in New York for the next two days…with nearby hotels booked up…and with the airline telling us that they wouldn’t pay for our rooms since the flight was cancelled due to weather. Out.Of.Control!

At least, out of OUR control!

Someone in our huddled group suggested we pray. We gathered in a large circle and thanked the One who IS in control that He had a way through this. We also thanked Him that He had a purpose in this, though we had no idea what that purpose might be. After the "Amen," my wife Cathy asked, "Do we have any churches in this area that might be able to give us a floor to sleep on?" My mind went into gear…

A couple of years ago, a guy named Fausto contacted me. "We are in San Luis, Mexico (about 20 miles from Yuma) for a week of ministry," he said. "I wanted to contact you because I am originally from the Dominican Republic and I became a Christian through your partner church there." Fausto and I became Facebook friends and I would hear from him occasionally. Sometime in late 2013, Fausto and his wife Debbie contacted us to let us know that they were moving to San Luis, and would be serving in leadership of an orphanage there. Their first weekend in the area would keep them in Yuma and they planned to attend one of our weekend services.

It just "happened" that I used a sermon illustration that weekend (the sermon was planned before I knew that Fausto and Debbie would be there) about something that happened when one of our teams had been in the Dominican some years ago. Amazingly, the story I told was about an event that was a game-changer in Fausto’s life. Only God could have put all this together. After that service, Fausto told me with great excitement how that day in Puerto Plata had changed things for him and what joy it brought them that I was sharing the story.

As Fausto and Debbie began their Mexico work, we saw them quite frequently. A few months into 2014, that ministry was going through problems and they came to us to talk about it. Our hearts were broken when they told us that they needed to go back to the East Coast. Within a few weeks, they were back at a ministry (run by the same foundation that runs the San Luis work) in New York City.

…My mind went into gear and I remembered Fausto and Debbie. It turns out that New York School of Urban Ministry houses and trains people on short-term mission experiences to the city. AND it turns out, that our flight snafu was on a couple of nights when some groups had left and others hadn’t arrived, leaving them with plenty of available beds. They opened their hearts to us and made a way for us to stay there at a cost so low that we were overwhelmed.

What seemed out of control was actually a way for us to establish some future ministry possibilities, even working with Dominicans in NYC. In addition, most of our group got to see some of the major sites in Manhattan, a first for many. In fact, one of the ladies told me that her day in the city was a "dream come true."

Being out of control used to drive me to serious anxiety, and that’s not an exaggeration. Over the years, I have discovered again and again what a joy it is to simply yield to the One who loves us; the one who is really in control. He always has a way!

The grace and love of God have been on display during "Life Repurposed," the Stone Ridge Church Summer Sermon Series. It continues this weekend. If you can’t join us, catch the podcast!

 

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Making History

I was told we made history recently.  It all started during a video call with my pastor-friends, Jose from Mexico and Domingo from the Dominican Republic.  (My grandparents couldn’t have imagined what we would consider “normal” with today’s technology.)  Domingo was describing the culmination of their series, Building A Fire-proof Marriage.  “We will take a regular worship service and many couples will renew their vows.”  

“That’s great!” I responded.  When he told me the date, I said, “That’s when we will be there; I’m excited that we get to share it with you.”  

“You will be here?” he said.  “Good!  You are preaching!”

Before it was done, he explained that I would not only be preaching, but also conducting the ceremony.  And, as it turned out, he said, “You have to wear a tie.”  The tie thing has become a big joke between us.  In my city, men rarely wear ties.  For years, I have preached in slacks and sport shirts.  Now I usually preach in jeans.  Even in our partner church in the DR, most men don’t wear ties anymore, but this was to be a special evening!

In the course of planning, Jose (our partner in Mexico, who would be translating for me) and I both decided to renew our vows with our wives as we conducted the service for the Dominicans.  Cathy and Maria agreed to go along with us.  It would be unusual and (maybe) a little awkward, but it sounded like the right thing to do.  Then, a couple of weeks before the big event, Domingo explained that they would also have some couples actually getting married in the service.  I understood this, because a church wedding and a civil wedding are two different things in the DR.  

The night finally arrived (their main church service is on Sunday evening) and we marched into the auditorium, about ten couples renewing their vows and four couples sharing their wedding ceremony.  The celebration was in three languages (Spanish, English and Sign), included two pastors and wives renewing their own vows as they led the others and a standing-room only church filled with laughter, whistles, applause and impatience for the couples on stage to kiss.  

At the end, Pastor Domingo said, “We made history here tonight.  We have never done anything quite like this before.”  History or not, it was an amazing evening.

I have long been mystified, in awe of something the Bible says to describe the culmination of life as we know it:

⁷  Let us be glad and rejoice, and let us give honor to him. For the time has come for the wedding feast of the Lamb, and his bride has prepared herself.
⁸  She has been given the finest of pure white linen to wear.” For the fine linen represents the good deeds of God’s holy people.
⁹  And the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb.” And he added, “These are true words that come from God.”
Revelation 19:7-9 (NLT)

Paul, the Apostle, wrote that it is a great mystery, but his description of marriage (Ephesians 5), is really a picture of the God’s intended relationship between Jesus Christ and His bride, the Church.”  Given that description, Our Dominican celebration surely filled His heart with joy.  

Our “Life Repurposed” series continues this weekend at Stone Ridge Church.  While we may not make history, I have seen a preview of the message and can’t wait to hear it live.  I hope to see you there; if you can’t join us, catch the podcast! 

Why We Go

Our largest team to date will depart this week for the Dominican Republic to work on construction projects, along with a medical team working in poor neighborhoods and a Pastor’s School for our partner church there. I smile as I realize that our three-year partnership is in its twelfth year. Since our first journey in 2002, people from Stone Ridge Church have been to the Dominican at least 25 times.
I remember well some of our hopes and dreams from that very first trip. It was what cemented, not only our church-to-church partnership, but scores of life-long friendships among people from both churches. That first trip began to make us painfully aware of some great needs in that country, but it took a few other experiences to show us our subtle arrogance when we thought that our purpose was to go and "fix things" there. Quickly we discovered that they knew so much more than we about faith and hard work and strategies to reach their culture with the Good News of Jesus Christ. We learned that we are at our best when they take the lead and we simply serve.
Our first trip came as a result of an invitation that we bring a music team to sing at the annual gathering of their association of churches. Though I live in a place where 115 degree summer days are common, I found myself amazed as 600 Dominicans gathered in a space that was way too small, way too warm and way too humid. The Saturday meeting was scheduled to adjourn at noon and my overheated body was certainly ready. 12:00 came and went, but even the smell of roasted meat wafting in from outside didn’t tempt the locals. Instead of ducking for the doors, they insisted upon, then stayed in the packed room for another half hour of worship; I don’t usually see scenes like that in the U.S.
That simple beginning has led me to some of the best friendships I have on the planet. When I arrive, I love to tell people, "Yuma is my home, but my heart is in Puerto Plata." There is a back story, though, and it is very personal for me. You see, for years I didn’t leave the U.S. to participate in missions work. After my very first international trip in 1981, it took over twenty years for me to go again. Then, though we had scores of people traveling to the D.R. to work with our partner church, I didn’t go a second time for another 2 ½ years.
Why, you may ask, did I not go even when we had teams traveling down? I used a variety of excuses, like "It’s not my thing." "I will give so others can go." Perhaps the most plausible-sounding excuse was, "Why not just give our money for the missionaries who live there? They can make a much larger difference." Some of you have surely felt or said some of these same things. Therefore, please take a few minutes to read on. Obviously, my commitments have changed (this is actually my third trip to the Dominican this year) and I think we have some pretty good reasons for why we go.
1. We go because we can make a difference. When one of our team members is hand-mixing concrete next to Haitian laborers, they are making a difference, by the work being done and the relationships being developed. The same is true when a doctor or nurse is hearing the hurts of poor people and dispensing much-needed medications. The difference we make grows exponentially each time one of our teams arrives in their country; many churches come once, but they have come to know us as people who keep coming back to work with them.
2. We go because our worldview gets stretched and our priorities get challenged. Our idea of hardship can be about a meal being 15 minutes late or not cooked to our tastes. We complain when the cable TV goes out for a few minutes. It does us good to meet and mingle with people who don’t always know where the next meal will come from and live with the daily reality that the electricity can go off for hours and they can do nothing about it.
3. We go because we love. Many join one of our teams for adventure, but they often encounter hardship they didn’t anticipate. What keeps bringing us back is the people. It’s the little children in Haitian villages who take us by the hand as we walk their town's narrow paths (often with raw sewage trickling at our feet); they leap into our hearts. It’s the elderly who smile at us and and the young adults who greet us in our language and the people who serve in the hotels where we stay; they all find their way into our lives and love just spills out naturally.
4. We go because we always come home with more than we took. Just recently, I told a Stone Ridge friend: "Your days on that mission trip will be some of the most joyful days of your life." One of the things we keep learning about God’s economy is that we always trade up with Him. We give something to His honor and glory and He gives us more in return. I have never been on a trip in which I felt like we gave more than we received; in fact, it’s always just the opposite. We realize that we are like the little boy who gave his lunch to Jesus, then saw Christ feed thousands with it. Everyone was full, but the little boy’s heart had to be the fullest of all!
Wherever you are, I hope that you will someday choose to go to a place of need. I pray that your world gets rocked when you see how the rest of the world lives. I pray that your priorities will change because your love grows in ways you couldn’t have imagined. If you choose well, the trip will cost you something. It will cost your time, your energy, your money, and your prayers. But, if you go with an open heart, your life will never be the same.
While we are gone, it will be an exciting weekend at Stone Ridge. Don’t miss this week’s edition of "Life Repurposed!" Can’t be there? Catch the podcast.

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Simply Simple

I have this exercise machine for sale. That really bugs me because I have frequently smirked at all the exercise machines that are sold on Craigslist or at yard sales.

The back story goes something like this: a person…a guy, let’s say…decides in early January that he wants…no, he really NEEDS…to get in shape. He needs it so badly that he simply MUST spend a chunk of change on new gear, new clothes, new shoes and/or a new gym membership. With all that new stuff, he will be ready to take on the challenge of shedding those holiday pounds, the ones that have been accumulating for the past several years.

At first, all goes well with our mythical health-phile. He pays the price to get up early or stay up late or skip lunch to work out. He even knocks off a few pounds, appreciating his sore muscles with the awareness that, while fat is calorie-storing tissue, muscle is calorie-burning tissue. So far so good! Until the day that he is just too tired so he sleeps in. Or he eats a couple of Big Macs for lunch rather than go to the gym. Or he chooses to catch up on late-night TV rather than work out. A couple of days later, he skips again, then soon has more off days than exercise days. Before long, his workout clothes stay in the closet, the gear gathers dust in the spare bedroom or the garage and the gym sits a little emptier. Actually the gym sits a lot emptier because all the other guys who bought memberships for the new year have already fallen off the wagon.

I’m not sure how our thinking got so warped. How did we start believing that some new stuff or some more stuff would somehow transform us into the fitness nut we hoped to become? The truth is that we tend to buy into that philosophy in every part of our lives. For instance, I will sheepishly admit that I have more note taking apps on my phone than you can shake a stick at, but none of them…not.one.single.one…has ever helped me take better notes.

The same principle can apply in our spiritual lives. I have found it easy to squeeze God out of my daily time with Him, simply by clogging those precious minutes with more "tools" that are supposed to help me get a better spiritual connection. I confess this to you, knowing how much I need this weekend’s message on Life Repurposed at Stone Ridge Church. And, no, I’m not the one preaching it. I hope to see you there as we listen and learn. If you can’t make it, catch the podcast!

By the way, I really do have an exercise machine for sale. It’s not for lack of exercise that I’m getting rid of it after several years of use. I’m still exercising on a very regular basis, but some priorities have changed…and I’m glad I made this part of my life simpler!

 

 

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Inside, looking out.

It’s funny how little things pop into my memory. This morning I was thinking about how our perspective can get clouded by our environment. We start to see small things as big while big things can become so small as to become invisible. As I was pondering this, I suddenly remembered something that happened a long time ago. We were on the little farm where we grew up. I don’t remember who the visitor was, but we…along with my brother Jimmie…were standing where we could see the huge cottonwood trees that surrounded our neighbor’s place. Those trees were close enough that we could hear the birds chirping in them, but far enough away that we could only see the birds when they were in flight. Anyway, I was teasing our visitor about how I could see a sparrow at a certain spot in one of those trees. I couldn’t really see it at that distance, but we were giving our visitor a hard time as we bragged about our superior sight.

I turned to Jimmie, who, at eight years younger than me, might have missed what I was doing. “Do you see that sparrow, Jimmie?” I asked with confidence.

“You mean the one with the freckle under it’s left eye?” was his quick response.

I’m smiling as I write this, remembering our childhood world, where we were pretty big and sparrows were pretty small.

My perspective on my own size compared to that of the world outside changed abruptly one day. The scene was my freshman year of college, when I signed up to take the Northern Arizona tour. That fast-paced weekend was intended to help us newbies become acquainted with the amazing state that later became my permanent home. After a fast tour of Jerome, an old mining town, and a drive through the red rocks of Sedona, we made our way to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. I will never forget that first visit. After winding our way north from Williams, we were suddenly stopping at a lookout on the edge of one of the world’s wonders.

And, in that instant, I started to discover how small I was. Up until that time, I had seen pictures of the Canyon, but nothing…nothing…could really describe the vast size and majesty that was now at my feet; literally at my feet as I stood on the edge of it! If the canyon had been an ocean beach, I was way too small to be even a grain of sand in comparison.

I reflect on these two events today because of something that will be revealed in Part 2 of “Life Repurposed,” this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. It turns out that many of the people who first followed Jesus, finding his love on the Day of Pentecost in Jerusalem (Acts, Chapter 2, in the Bible), saw themselves as pretty big and the rest of the world as somewhat insignificant. The Apostle Paul was one who had stood next to the Grand Canyon-sized world and realized how big it was compared to the littleness of life in Judea. He was so moved that he dedicated his life to tell them God’s Good News.

His change of perspective is more important to you and me than we can possibly imagine. If he hadn’t been willing to look outside his old comfort zone, you and I might not even know about Jesus Christ and what He did for us. It’s a story worth hearing…again! If you can't catch us live, listen to the podcast!

 

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Inside, looking out.

It’s funny how little things pop into my memory. This morning I was thinking about how our perspective can get clouded by our environment. We start to see small things as big while big things can become so small as to become invisible. As I was pondering this, I suddenly remembered something that happened a long time ago. We were on the little farm where we grew up. I don’t remember who the visitor was, but we…along with my brother Jimmie…were standing where we could see the huge cottonwood trees that surrounded our neighbor’s place. Those trees were close enough that we could hear the birds chirping in them, but far enough away that we could only see the birds when they were in flight. Anyway, I was teasing our visitor about how I could see a sparrow at a certain spot in one of those trees. I couldn’t really see it at that distance, but we were giving our visitor a hard time as we bragged about our superior sight.

I turned to Jimmie, who, at eight years younger than me, might have missed what I was doing. “Do you see that sparrow, Jimmie?” I asked with confidence.

“You mean the one with the freckle under it’s left eye?” was his quick response.

I’m smiling as I write this, remembering our childhood world, where we were pretty big and sparrows were pretty small.

My perspective on my own size compared to that of the world outside changed abruptly one day. The scene was my freshman year of college, when I signed up to take the Northern Arizona tour. That fast-paced weekend was intended to help us newbies become acquainted with the amazing state that later become my permanent home. After a fast tour of Jerome, an old mining town, and a drive through the red rocks of Sedona, we made our way to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. I will never forget that first visit. After winding our way north from Williams, we were suddenly stopping at a lookout on the edge of one of the world’s wonders.

And, in that instant, I started to discover how small I was. Up until that time, I had seen pictures of the Canyon, but nothing…nothing…could really describe the vast size and majesty that was now at my feet; literally at my feet as I stood on the edge of it! If the canyon had been an ocean beach, I was way too small to be even a grain of sand in comparison.

I reflect on these two events today because of something that will be revealed in Part 2 of “Life Repurposed,” this weekend at Stone Ridge Church. It turns out that many of the people who first followed Jesus, finding his love on the Day of Pentecost in Jerusalem (Acts, Chapter 2, in the Bible), saw themselves as pretty big and the rest of the world as somewhat insignificant. The Apostle Paul was one who had stood next to the Grand Canyon-sized world and realized how big it was compared to the littleness of life in Judea. He was so moved that he dedicated his life to tell them God’s Good News.

His change of perspective is more important to you and me than we can possibly imagine. If he hadn’t been willing to look outside his old comfort zone, you and I might not even know about Jesus Christ and what He did for us. It’s a story worth hearing…again! If you can't catch us live, listen to the podcast!

 

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Escape From Bondage

It’s a story I would rather not tell. Yet, the story is so painfully clear that it horribly and beautifully illustrates an atrocity in human nature. Those who want to think of homo sapiens as essentially good must overlook history like this; they must bury heads in the sand and pretend certain things simply couldn’t be perpetrated by our species.

The story begins in early 1942, in a forest along the eastern border of Poland, where the Nazis chose to build an extermination camp. SS-Sonderkommando Sobibór was named for the nearby village. Sobibór was intended to take forced laborers from other camps and destroy them, using carbon monoxide from a simple Russian-built, captured diesel engine. As trains of Jews arrived at the camp, the Commandant would address them wearing a white coat, giving the impression that he was a doctor. He would calmly explain that they were at Sobibór for decontamination, to keep disease at bay when they went out to work. The people were told to leave their valuables and remove their clothes so they could be taken to the showers for their cleansing. An SS man would then lead them through a passageway dubbed “Road to Heaven” by the Nazis. Several Ukrainian POW’s marched behind the Jews, hastening them toward the chambers.

Entering the death chambers, the victims walked past decorations of flowers and a yellow Star of David, adding to the ruse that they were simply being cleansed before they took up residence and went to work. Once they were inside, the Ukrainians closed the doors and the engine was started, which would quickly poison them all.

The SS was very efficient in their work at the camps, choosing to keep some Jews alive for awhile, making them take care of various unsavory duties. Those duties ranged from removing the corpses from the gas chambers to mass graves or crematoriums, to becoming sex slaves for the SS guards. Ultimately, those who served in the camps would join the victims they had helped process and die in the gas chambers.

Sobibór did not last until the end of the war. In fact, the camp existed for a relatively short time compared to the other Nazi death camps. One reason was because of the escape. In October, 1943, 600 Sobibór prisoners killed 11 SS officers and several camp guards. Their hope was to kill all the guards at the camp and walk out the main entrance, but they were discovered and fled toward the forest. About half of them died before they could escape the camp. Many others were killed by the land mines that had been placed around the camp as a deterrent. Others were caught and shot. In the end, about 50 Sobibór prisoners, one in twelve, escaped alive. A few days later, Heinrich Himmler ordered the camp closed, destroyed and trees planted where it had been located.

As I said, this is a story that is hard to tell. The desperation of the captors to enslave and destroy the Jews is almost beyond belief. The willingness of the prisoners to do anything…ANYTHING…to possibly walk free is far easier to understand. Throughout history, people have taken extreme measures to hold other humans in bondage. What may surprise you is that it was just such an example of excessive behavior that prompted the New Testament book of Galatians.

The perpetrators in the first century were not Nazis, but some of the Jews themselves. They had heard the message of Jesus the Nazarene actually being their Messiah...their “Christ”...and they decided to follow Him. No doubt they loved the thought that His sacrifice would suffice for all their sins. Even in their freedom, though, they couldn’t resist the temptation to put others in bondage. They became known in the early church as “Judaizers” because they held to the idea that the salvation bought by Jesus’ blood was only for Jews. Non-Jews…Gentiles…would have to convert to Judaism before they could become Christ-followers. These extremists threatened to destroy much of the work of the Gospel, turning the Good News into something much less as it spread throughout the Roman Empire.

At the forefront of a group standing against this perversion of truth was the apostle Paul. He wrote the little letter to the churches in the Galatian region; it stands as a source of hope and comfort two millennia later. We begin our study of Galatians this weekend at Stone Ridge Church as we kick off our Summer Sermon Series. The Series, entitled “Life Repurposed”, is full of the hope that God created us to live free from the Law. We no longer have to be subject to the bondage that has held so many captive for so long.

Don’t miss it! Can’t be there? Catch the podcast!

 

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