The Challenge of Ministry

Ever since becoming a pastor I've been challenged spiritually in ways that I hadn't been before. I think this is because having the responsibility to lead other Christians makes me much more aware of my own weaknesses and flaws. So if there are ways that I have still to grow spiritually, I can't very well help others grow in that way. I can't lead anyone where I haven't been.

The challenge is that perhaps as a pastor I feel more than other Christians the responsibility to grow spiritually and work on my relationship with God not only for my own sake but for the sake of others. For if as a pastor I am not growing in my own spiritual walk, if I am not active in prayer, Bible study, etc., then this will have an effect on people in my congregation. It will show up in my preaching, in my ability to minister to them spiritually, and in my attempts to build up the ministries of the church and provide leadership. If I were just another person in the pew, so to speak, I could neglect my own faith without others experiencing detrimental effects to theirs. Or so I could think.

Well, I do think so, at least to some extent, but I don't want to give the impression that pastors are a class apart from other believers. I don't want to give the impression that pastors intrinsically have more influence on other Christians than other Christians. Truth be told, probably in a lot of cases I have less influence on the people in my church than they have on one another. And if this is so, then that is as it should be in the body of Christ.

But I suppose that as a pastor I have more influence than other Christians in our congregation on the general direction, tone, sense of mission, and overall atmosphere of our church community. That can be a heavy responsibility. And given that, just like any believer, I have my own spiritual weaknesses, failings, spiritual blindspots, and more persistent temptations, there are moments when I feel the weight of it even more profoundly.

In no other vocation is personal faith so tied to one's daily responsibilities. While most Christians can go to their respective jobs and workplaces without bringing their faith directly into the picture, as a pastor there is less of a clear demarcation line between the personal and professional. They spill over into one another.

This isn't also to say that Christians who pursue other careers, jobs, employment, etc., aren't supposed to allow their faith to shine through in their relationships with co-workers and employers, but odds are they can perform their jobs just as effectively whether they do so or not. The skill set required of their position doesn't likely include prayer and biblical exegesis!

For as a pastor my primary responsibility is to devote myself to prayer and Scripture study. These two practices ought to form a large part of my "work-week." Yet if I wasn't a pastor, as a believer prayer and reading my Bible would still be a part of my daily life. It's just that I would have to work around a pre-existing job schedule. I'd have to find time for these things outside my work hours. As it is, prayer and Bible study are a part of my nine-to-five. That in itself distinguishes me as a pastor from my brothers and sisters in Christ.

Getting back to where I started, such a vocation is a spiritual challenge precisely because a personal spiritual walk is a challenge; and they are both challenges in similar ways. And even the significant distinguishing characteristic, that I pray as a part of my nine-to-five and others prayer in addition to their nine-to-five, isn't that significant after all.

I just mean that since every Christian is a member of the body of Christ, we are all responsible for one another's spiritual growth. As Paul says, we are "members of one another." To that end, we're all ministers. There is no lay person-clergy distinction. There is, but only in terms of spiritual function and level of spiritual maturity. But we are all charged with the job of helping each other follow Jesus more faithfully.

The challenge I feel as a pastor in my own spiritual walk is one that should be common to us all. It's just that as a pastor that sense of responsibility has been thrown into sharp relief. It's more pronounced is all, because it's both whom I am and what I do. If other believers in any given congregation don't feel this challenge in some measure -- a challenge to grow in their faith and to help others grow likewise -- then this speaks to their own relationship with God, and not necessarily in a positive way. Life throws lots of roadblocks and potholes in our way as we travel on the highway of faith, and sometimes this means we sidestep these challenges and instead decide simply to get along with a bare minimum. But of course, Peter tells us to "make every effort." Though the formation of Christian character and the maturation of disciples takes place through in the power of the Spirit, the Spirit can accomplish nothing of value in our lives if we are not willing to cooperate.

So I think what I said at the beginning isn't true. Not exactly. Yes, there are challenges specific to pastoral ministry. But I've always been challenged in the ways I've been talking about this whole -- challenged to pray more consistently, to read Scripture more faithfully, to follow Jesus more obediently -- and as a pastor I think I've just found that I've been challenged in these areas more deeply and more profoundly. I can't quite explain it. But, again, all Christians are rightfully challenged in these areas. Maybe as a pastor I just find myself face to face with these challenges in way that is unique to this vocation in finding myself straddling that divide between personal and professional.

As one fellow blogger often puts it, enough rambling.

Sorry, no pictures.

Thinking About Prayer: Part 4

This is the fourth installment of what has turned out to be an occasional series of reflections on prayer. Hence the title. With the first post, I hadn't intended it to be so. But prayer is one of those topics that has interested me for a long time. And so it's no surprise that I return to it time and again. In fact, my MA thesis is on prayer; specifically, on the Lord's Prayer and theologian Karl Barth's understanding of it.

Especially during the years when I was studying for my MA, I read a fair bit of Barth, a habit that has waned in more recent years. His approach to theology -- particularly his doctrine of revelation and his doctrine of the Trinity -- had already piqued my interest during my BA years and so when my systematics professor pointed out that Barth was the only major 20th century Protestant theologian to give significant attention to prayer I decided he ought to be the subject of my thesis.

One of Barth's works that nurtured both my interest in his theology and in the relationship between theology and prayer was a little book of lectures called Evangelical Theology: An Introduction. In this book Barth reflects on the task of the theologian and of theology, and in a section on the work of theology he puts prayer at the front. Today during my own prayer and devotional time, I decided to read this chapter on prayer and I found lots of wonderful food for thought, for mind and for heart.

Beginning this chapter on prayer, Barth says that

"The first and most basic act of theological work is prayer . . . [and that] theological work does not merely begin with prayer and is not merely accompanied by it; in its totality it is peculiar and characteristic of theology that it can only be performed in the act of prayer."

And as I was reading this I found myself inserting preacher or pastor when he wrote theologian and inserting preaching whenever he talked about doing theology. It was a perfect fit, of course. What he says is true of theologians and their work is also true of pastors and their work. Barth says this himself when he comments that theological work "must have the character of an offering" to God and that such theological work includes

"the tiniest problem of exegesis or dogmatics, or the clarification of the most modest fragment of the history of the Church of Jesus Christ, but, above all, if it is the preparation of a sermon, lesson, or Bible study."

I also like the fact that Barth designates preaching as theological work.

Even when you're a pastor it's not difficult to forego prayer for more busy-work. Pressure to get things done, including our sermons, lead us to neglect prayer. What ought to be the fruit of a life of prayer ends up replacing prayer in our daily routines. Sometimes I think that this is because prayer seems less useful than actually typing sermons or preparing a Bible study. And sometimes I think that this is because prayer is actually harder than preparing a sermon or Bible study. But robbing my sermons of prayer is robbing my preaching of not only its heart but its power. That is, preaching without prayer is tantamount to depending on the power of my very human words rather than depending on God's Spirit.

Knowing this, Barth writes,

"For in prayer a man temporarily turns away from his own efforts. This move is necessary precisely for the sake of the duration and continuation of his own work. Every prayer has its beginning when a man puts himself (together with his best and most accomplished work) out of the picture. He leaves himself and his work behind in order once again to recollect that he stands before God."

Great stuff. I know that I need this sort of reminding regularly. I also love this:

"A man prays, not in order to sacrifice his work or even to neglect it, but in order that may not remain or become unfruitful work, so that he may do it under the illumination and, consequently, under the rule and blessing of God."

I'm not sure if this is what Barth is getting at, but sometimes we can neglect prayer because we don't want to sacrifice our real work. We don't want to neglect what we think is more important or what may be more utilitarian concerns. No wonder Barth describes prayer as the first part of theological work. Placing it under the rubric of theological work is Barth's attempt to re-orient our thinking of what prayer actually is and how theological work -- preaching, teaching, and, indeed, the whole of the Christian life -- is theological work, properly speaking, insofar as it is the fruit of the fellowship we have with God through Jesus Christ. Put simply, a sermon is a genuine sermon only if it is borne of time spent in prayer in the presence of the God the sermon attempts to proclaim. And when this happens, when a sermon emerges from such holy communion, the sermon itself, the very act of preaching itself, is prayer-full.

So this morning, when I began to think about finishing my sermon, I stopped short of jumping right in to work on the manuscript itself. I wrote much of my sermon on Tuesday, and, technically, there is not a whole lot left to do; that is, if one just considers the outline, the points, the attempt to draw out practical application, and the illustrations, all that remains is an introduction and a conclusion, some of which I already have in note-form. Yet instead of running ahead and writing I sat and read Barth which reminded me of the importance of prayer in preaching, in ministry, and, truthfully, in life. I was convicted, too, because sometimes my attention to prayer is sporadic and inconsistent. Dare I admit this as a pastor? Either way, I am thankful that Barth reminded me that there is a great deal more to preaching, as well as theology, than a series of well-constructed sentences, paragraphs, and points. He reminded me of other things as well in this profound chapter on prayer, but rather than ramble on any more I think I'll actually spend some time following his advice: ora et labora!

"I want to want . . ."

Last night when my deacons and I met with our regional minister to discuss our NCD survey results, we talked at one point about the difference between aspirational values and actual values. Aspirational values are the values we say we have. For instance, as believers we say that we want to spend our lives serving Christ and glorifying God, but our actual values -- how we actually live and spend our time -- demonstrate that we'd often (or at least sometimes) rather live ordinary lives enjoying at least modest creature comforts without ever having to journey beyond our comfort zones.

Thinking of this tonight made me think that while I can say, "I want to serve Christ and glorify God, what I really mean is, "I want to want to serve Christ and glorify God." At least it can be that way. Even our noblest aspirations are eroded by self-interest. Realizing that so often even my desires are skewed by sin, I see that I don't always want what I should want. Sometimes this is true when we worship and sing a variety of lyrics that tend toward the aspirational rather than the actual. We express things in words, in song, that we don't altogether mean or feel. We confess in sung prayers that we want more of God in our lives, that we long for a deeper relationship with him when in reality there are times that our behaviour demonstrates the opposite: we really want our own way, our own desires met, and we want as little interference from God as possible.

This isn't to say that our worship or our aspirations are therefore disingenuous. Rather, it's about recognizing that our desires -- what we want -- also need to be transformed. Only through the work of the Spirit can the aspirational be gradually turned into the actual. Only through the messy work of prayer, worship, Bible study, fellowship, and daily discipleship do we become what we ought to be and therefore more fully want what we ought to want: to serve Christ and glorify God. This is what I want, anyway; or at least it's what I want to want.

Preaching Through a Series: Part 2

I'm gradually working through a sermon series that is based on the Natural Church Development eight quality characteristics. You can see part 1 of this post here. And here is that list of characteristics again:

1. Gift-oriented ministry (already done: "Being Gifts")
2. Loving Relationships (already done: "The Gift of Love")
3. Inspiring Worship (this week: "The Why of Worship")
4. Passionate Spirituality
5. Holistic Small Groups
6. Empowering Leadership
7. Effective Structures
8. Need-oriented Evangelism

As you can see, with the third message I've deviated already from the "gift" metaphor. No big deal. The real point is to work through the topics. I sort of wish now that I had introduced the series more deliberately from the start. Instead, I just began it without letting people know that I was beginning a series. This was because I wasn't completely sure whether I was beginning a series. I was trying out the topics tentatively. So this week I think I need to be more vocal about what I'm doing. Also, this week I had a meeting with my deacons and our regional pastor about the NCD survey we did. It was an excellent experience going over the results of the survey together. While one never knows the future, it feels like we're just at the cusp of being more intentional and creative with ministry at our church. Having been presented with the result of the survey, we are in the position of a patient who's just gotten a diagnosis from a doctor. What we do with the doctor's information is up to us.

One thing this has made me think about is that I really want to be here at this church for as long as the Lord wills. I even feel that as a pastor that I am still very much learning how to pastor and lead. Having the opportunity to lead a church through this process, and anticipating how people will be encouraged by increasing health and growth, is enough to make me want to see this through the long-haul. Of course, that's not enough to keep me here. The call to ministry does that. Only the knowledge that God has placed me in this church provides the incentive to continue. Because there are, no doubt, going to be times -- or at least days -- when ministry will not be enjoyable or fun but difficult and even discouraging. And on those days it won't be the hope that God will bring more encouraging moments and times that gets me through but confidence that God has more in mind for our church and for our community.

"Never do today . . ."

Well, today I mowed my lawn. It's needed doing for at least a couple of weeks -- and so prior to my mowing the lawn, it looked more like a tropical rain-forest than a back-lawn. Who knows what bizarre creatures were slinking about beneath the ridiculously long blades of grass! All number of things caused me to put it off. There were various circumstances, including rainy weather and having to get the car fixed. Not to mention that I usually try and make sure to get church work done before yard-work. But the truth is, it's never hard to find reasons (read: excuses) to leave yard-work for another day. Oddly, once I'm actually in the middle of mowing the lawn, I generally don't mind it. And even more oddly there are occasions when I actually enjoy getting outside and getting such things done. Yet I still put it off. "Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today," the proverb goes. My attitude, though, toward yard-work usually reverses this proverbial wisdom: "Never do today what you can put off until tomorrow!" Including mowing my lawn. Maybe especially so.

So my question is, if once I get going I don't mind it so much, why is it that I put it off or find excuses to leave it to another day?

A good friend of mine once coined a definition of procrastination: "Procrastination: the art of using one's relaxation time to produce stress." And he coined this with particular reference to his habit of leaving the writing of essays and sermons to the last minute -- though the ideas had already been simmering in his head for some time. But actually sitting down and doing the work of putting thoughts on paper usually didn't happen until the night or two before. It was the time-crunch, the reality of an imminent deadline, that spurred him on.

On another occasion he and I were supposed to be preparing for a Greek mid-term. This was when we were fellow-students in seminary. It was the night before the mid-term, and I was really getting stressed partly because we weren't really getting around to studying. Though my friend wasn't at all stressed; again, the pressure of time actually made it easier for him somehow. He kept saying to me, "Don't worry about it. We'll be fine!" Well, I had no confidence that this was so. Thankfully, despite my stress and our mutual procrastination we both did well on the mid-term.

Anyway, I am not the kind of person who thrives under that kind of pressure. I might put off mowing the lawn but I will do everything I can to get an early handle on my sermon, for instance, as soon as possible during the week. The closer I get to Sunday morning without a complete or near-complete sermon, which does happen on occasion, the more nervous I'm likely to get. I'm not a fan of "Saturday night specials," when I find myself on my knees on a Saturday evening praying for a text and a title! Though, thankfully, this is an area where I am learning to trust God more and more. So even if I do find myself in this situation, either because of circumstances beyond my control or because of poor time management, I don't react as often with sheer panic. Not like when I was worrying about a Greek mid-term!

Of course, all this aside, not many -- including me -- are likely to panic over a lawn needing to be mowed. So putting that off is much easier. An unseemly looking yard has never caused me too much stress. If it has, it's only because I've got so much else to do in a given week and leaving the lawn too long means a standard mower will not do the trick; I'll need a bush-hog! And if it has, it's because it's just one more thing -- even if one more mundane thing -- that I have to get done. I found this to be the case when we were pastoring at our last church where I was bi-vocational. Having a full-time job on top of being a part-time pastor meant that time was a valuable commodity.

Truthfully, that's why I've got the tendency to put off mowing the lawn here. It's not so much so that I despise the task, but that it takes time away from what I generally consider more important things. If I take time this afternoon to work on the yard, will I make getting my sermon on time more difficult? Probably, but in how many other ways do I fail to manage my time well so that getting prepared for Sunday or for some other responsibility is more difficult? Frankly, sometimes it's my fault. And it's got nothing to do with mowing the lawn.

Christian stewardship involves our finances, other resources, our gifts and energy, and also our time. Without discipline, responsible stewardship proves much more challenging. I can't speak for anyone else, but I find managing time to involve the most discipline and therefore the most difficulties. I don't think we should micro-manage our days, but I know that I tend to thrive best when I have some manner of routine in place, one that provides a sense of managed time. Discipline goes hand in hand with freedom.

God provides a sense of time through creation -- seven days, each with its own work of creating, day and night, seasons and years, rest and work. There is a rhythm to creation, to time as God has shaped it. To that end, you could say that God has imbued creation with a sense of managed time. And God certainly didn't create the world by saying, "Well, never do today what I can put off until tomorrow."

Ramblings about friendship inspired by late-night surfing . . .

For the last couple of weeks my allergies have been a daily annoyance, sometimes waking me up in the middle of the night and keeping me up for nearly an hour at a time until my allergy medication takes effect. One consequence of this is that I end up feeling completely drug out the next day. Mornings, typically my prime work time, find me wandering around zombie-like. Concentration is nearly non-existent. Last week especially felt like a complete loss. Though ironically it was on a night when I found myself awake at 3am that I finally realized what my Sunday sermon was supposed to be about. This was Friday night (technically Saturday morning). Once the idea was settled -- a message looking at 2 & 3 John -- the rest came quite quickly. It was what my mother-in-law would call a "God-thing." I agree with her.

On one of the many nights I found myself sniffing and sneezing unable to sleep I found myself on the computer surfing. In particular, I was looking up old friends, checking out their blogs, and seeing if I could find out what they were presently up to. I didn't have a whole lot of luck. But it got me thinking.

Since moving back to NB from Ontario and getting married and becoming a dad, my time has pretty much been divided between home and church, between family and ministry. My world has contracted. Most days, once my daughter is in bed all I usually want to do is relax, spend time with my wife, and precious little else. What this means is that I have largely lost touch with most friends. I rarely am in contact with anyone other than immediate family and church folk. My wife has long since given up exhorting me to call friends who live long distance. In my own defense, old friends have rarely shown initiative in keeping in touch with me. It can cut both ways. But this says something about how, once we're no longer in school and find ourselves married with children or busy with ministry or work, our priorities definitely change. How we use what time we have is usually predetermined by family and career. Other things often fall off the radar. It's not that we deliberately shut out old friends, but that anything which doesn't immediately relate to life right here and right now gets crowded out.

Being in my mid-30s also means that making new friends isn't easy. I'm not going anywhere most of the time where I am likely to meet new people who might become friends. I recall a Seinfeld joke that said that the friends you have once you're in your 30s are your friends -- you're not getting anymore! I don't think that's precisely true, but as a pastor in a small town it is hard to make friends. The members of your congregation can't usually be the sort of friends that you catch a movie with. I don't often think of this, but on those occasions when my wife and daughter are away for a day or two I do sometimes wish there was someone I could call and get together with, someone who shared my interests without also knowing me as a pastor.

I have a Facebook account. I never use it, and so I should just cancel it and close down my profile. Anyone I know who is on Facebook will browse my profile in vain for new information, updates, or recent pictures. I've never been motivated enough to maintain it. I once did close my profile but opened it again so I could find out if a friend's wife had their baby. But it does seem to me that Facebook has taken over from e-mail and other options as the preferred means of keeping in touch with friends, old and new. I almost feel guilty for not using it, as though somehow I've committed the sin of not-keeping-up-with-the-latest-in-communication-technology and as a result have demonstrated a complete lack of interest in keeping up with friends, especially old friends. I only know that the little experience I have with Facebook seems to bear out my feeling that it could easily become a major time drain. I guess I don't have any sound reasons for missing friends, not if I don't make the effort afforded by the technological options available.

Sniff, Sniff, Snore, Snore

Between my wife and I, she is the one who has more health issues. Typically, if one of us is sick, nine times out of ten it will be her and not me. But that doesn't mean I'm without my own health issues. For instance, one of my ongoing issues is sleep apnea. This condition means that I periodically stop breathing while sleeping. It also means that even if I sleep for eight or more hours on a given night, I can still feel completely exhausted the next day. I have slept but not rested. To help with this condition I actually have to wear this odd contraption, an air mask that prevents the apnea from stopping my breathing. Anyone who sees it thinks it very odd. You might wonder how anyone could sleep while wearing it! But over the last couple of years I've gotten used to it.

Unfortunately wearing this mask has gotten more difficult over the last couple of weeks. This is because I also have allergies -- hayfever, as it is sometimes called -- and I've been waking up with stuffed up sinuses, sneezing and sniffing, unable to wear my mask. I'll take some allergy medication, and wait for it to take affect. Wearing my apnea mask while I'm dealing with allergies is basically impossible. So there are two things keeping me from sleeping well: not wearing my mask because of allergies that are acting up and the allergies themselves, which make it hard to sleep. The last three or four days have been the worst, and even though I've ended up sleeping in a little I still feel drug out when I climb out of bed.

Yesterday morning after I got up it wasn't long before our little girl woke up. And when she got up, it was the morning routine as usual: potty, breakfast, get dressed, and either a video or some other activity. But for some reason, I felt quite short. I had a lot less patience than usual. Things that normally don't irritate me did. I didn't feel this way for long before I realized that it was because of my lack of restful sleep. And today I sort of feel the same way, though not as bad. I don't have much energy or get up and go. I might get some other kind of allergy medication today. What I've been taking these lasty couple of weeks doesn't seem to having the effect it initially did. So I hope to get a better night's sleep soon! Unfortunately, sometime this week I need to mow our lawn, and there's no way that will help my sniffer. Maybe this is a good reason to find someone else to mow my lawn? That I wouldn't mind!

Trouble With Cars

Today Alisha, Ella, and I were supposed to go into town and deposit my paycheck, run some errands, and get groceries. We're basically at that point where the only option for supper is canned beans or . . . No, canned beans is essentially it! So we were all ready to head out, but when we started the car it made a very funny, unpleasant, metallic scratching-squeaking noise. We opted to stay home, not sure that travelling to the city would do our car any good.

So at the moment we're stranded.

The trouble with cars is that they are a huge expense. Gas prices keep escalating, and it looks now like we'll have to have some sort of repair work done. But you can't do without one these days, at least not when you live in the country and everything is a commute. Thankfully, the car is paid off in June but we were hoping to have it last for a few more years at least. But you never know. Ironically, one reason we need to deposit my pay ASAP is because on Thursday our car payment comes out of our account. But our car is keeping us from getting there for the moment.

For now, we're home waiting to hear back from one of a number of people who know much more about cars than either of us. And I'm praying that whatever the trouble, it won't be overly expensive to fix. Can you pray the same thing for us? We'd appreciate it!

Postscript (sometime later): Our neighbour, who knows a great deal about our cars, took ours for a ride and told us that it was probably our rear brakes making the noise, though they were working fine. He said that it is safe to drive but that we should have it looked at soon. We now have an appointment at our mechanic's tomorrow. Soon enough? Our prayers continue that this won't break our bank . . .

False Advertising

Whenever I put a video or DVD on for my daughter--who is now just more than three and a half--we almost always fast-forward the commercials and ads that normally proceed the actual program. We began this habit when we discovered that just because we felt the program was acceptable, we didn't always feel the same way about the preceding advertisements. This morning I put on a Peanuts cartoon (the perennial classic, Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!) on for her and when I asked her what the commercials were for, she told me, "They try and buy you stuff!" Now if only that were literally true! But she gets the idea anyway. Hopefully, then, she will continue to see advertising for what it usually is: a medium for fooling us into thinking that we need a specific product or service to be fulfilled or happy. And since there is no way any product or service can live up to its promises, pretty much all advertising is, in this sense, false advertising.

A Thousand Words?

Well, as you can see, I've added something to my blog. I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not, so it may or may not last. At the very least I may change the picture. Though my wife likes this one. Whether it's worth a thousand words, I don't want to know what those words might be!

Oh, I think this post has the distinction of being my shortest post ever. Far less than a thousand words.

I'll be back later . . .

Today's Sermon

Well, below is today's sermon. I wanted to convey the importance of cultivating loving relationships and friendships with fellow Christians as an implication of already being loved by God. I don't think I managed to communicate as effectively as I would have liked the importance of friendships within the church, but perhaps I can do that another Sunday. It can be difficult to know sometimes how effective a sermon has been. As another pastor recently told me, "There are very few watershed sermons!" How right he is! But thankfully God can use even our meager efforts. I hope these words bless and encourage you too.

“The Gift of Love”
1 Corinthians 12:27 – 13:13; 1 John 4:7 – 21

Introduction—the art of re-gifting

We’ve all received lots of gifts over the years. Most gifts we have probably forgotten; some of them we never even use; and some of them we keep and enjoy. And some of these gifts we keep but we never really use them ourselves. They end up in closets, boxes, and storage rooms. And then when it comes time to give someone else a gift—either for a birthday or for Christmas or for some other occasion—we do the unthinkable, the unimaginable. We do what we would never admit out loud: we ­re­-gift.

Haven’t you ever done this? That little trinket you didn’t want to set out on the coffee table you gave to someone else. That book you knew you’d never read you gave to someone else. That CD you knew you’d never listen to you gave to someone else. That sweater you knew you’d never wear you gave to someone else. Don’t tell me I’m alone!

Good or bad, re-gifting is about giving to someone else what we’ve already been given. Now, if we do this with a sweater or a CD it likely means we didn’t much like this gift ourselves. When we received it and said, “You shouldn’t have,” we really mean it, and in more ways than one! The things we re-gift are usually things we didn’t like or want; and so we re-gift to get rid of it (and maybe to rid ourselves of the guilt that we don’t like it!).

But when we receive gifts we do like and enjoy, usually the last thought that crosses our minds is passing it on to someone else. Gifts we like, we keep. Gifts that we deem worthwhile, we hang onto. But what if we were to reverse this logic? What if we instead adopted the attitude that we should give away the good gifts we receive? And what if I was to suggest that the only way to truly appreciate a gift is when we give it to someone else and allow someone else to appreciate it and enjoy it too?

The particular gift I have in mind, one that most of us here know of, is the gift of love. And love is the sort of gift that we can only truly receive once we have learned to re-gift it, to give it away to someone else; failing to do so means failing to understand the true nature of love. Having received it, we pass it on. This is what it means to respond to the love we have received from God. It means, as we will see, cultivating loving relationships where friendships are the goal. And it also means having to extend grace to our brothers and sisters in Christ; loving one another means, at times, forgiving one another. And being able to forgive—to see past how others have wronged us—draws us further into the love of God who forgave us in Christ. The forgiveness we have received, we also give; doing so, therefore, is at the heart of relationships within the church as well as the relationship between ourselves and God. And it is precisely these sorts of loving relationships that we are after as believers in Jesus Christ.

Giving the gift of love means responding to God’s love

Our first point this morning is this: Giving the gift of love means responding to God’s love. And the point of this point is this: We love others because God loves us; our loving relationships are modelled on our relationship with God. What God has given us, we willingly give to others.

Alisha’s friend Janis has always held loosely onto her possessions—with one exception: a pair of patch-work, quilt-style pants. I guess she just loved these pants. Though not much of a clothes person, she was very excited about these pants. Well, Janis was working at Circle Square Ranch at the time and when her supervisor, the head cook, saw these pants she absolutely loved them! And she told Janis so.

Janis felt like God was telling her to give her boss the pants. And giving them up was hard because she did love them so much. But, as I said, she always held unto her possessions loosely because she knew that all she had came from God. That included these pants. So she gave them away. And the person almost refused to take them, knowing how much Janis liked them. As a result of this gesture, she shared things with Janis that opened up more opportunities for friendship. Janis was also blessed by giving away. What she gave was what God had given her. She was responding to God’s generosity in her life.

When we re-gift love—show love to those around us—we are simply responding to the fact that God has given us love first. We receive love first from God—he is the source of love; indeed, God is love. Love defines his essence; it is who he is. But the love we receive from God doesn’t stop with us, but is meant to flow through us to those around us. Just as we have received the gift of love from God, so we are to give the gift of love. As 1 John 4:8 says, “Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love,” and a little later in verse 11 John says, “Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another.”

Even our giving of love to others is something enabled by God’s Spirit—love is the pinnacle of the fruit of the Spirit. John points this out to in verse 13 when he says that, “By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit.” Having a character shaped by the quality of love means being someone who is patient and kind, who lives toward others in the manner that God relates to us. This means to grow in love and to show such love, we need to be in relationships. In particular, we need to be in relationships with other believers. As a community we need to be around and with one another—in relationship with one another—in order to give the love we have been given.

Giving the gift of love means cultivating loving relationships

Our second point this morning is the most important point. We’ll spend most of our time on it. It is an implication of the first: Giving the gift of love means cultivating loving relationships. The point of this point is this: Modelling our relationships in the church on our relationship with God means actively pursuing loving friendships with fellow Christians. It means cultivating trust, openness, and acceptance. Let’s unpack this a bit.

When we were living in Hoyt we would let our dog, Miss T., outside without a lot of supervision. This turned out to be a bad idea. One morning I got a loud knock at our door from our neighbour Brad. Miss T. had gotten into his garbage and it was now everywhere. I felt awful. Strike one. On another occasion Miss T. had gotten into some of Brad’s dog food, which he would leave at the side of his house in a dish for his two dogs when they were tied in the yard. Strike two.

We’re told to love our neighbours as we love ourselves. But how do we do that? When it came to Miss T. and her shenanigans, we made sure we leashed her and didn’t let her wander indiscriminately around our neighbourhood. We made sure we didn’t do anything to annoy, frustrate, and otherwise anger our neighbour. We avoided actions and behaviour that would not show love of neighbour. But was this really love?

I think if we had decided to show real love of neighbour, we would have given Brad and his family a big bag of dog food—to replace what Miss T. had eaten over time and then some. Rather than just avoiding making our neighbour mad, we should have gone out of our way to make our neighbour glad—is this not a better description of neighbourly love and of love in general?

This applies to our relationships in the church. Loving relationships in the church require not only avoiding actions and attitudes that hurt our brothers and sisters, but doing things that build up and encourage our brothers and sisters. Paul tells us in 1 Thessalonians 5:11: “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up.” So it’s not only about not doing things we shouldn’t; it’s also about doing those things we should. It’s not only about not letting our dog loose to ransack our neighbour’s garbage; it’s also about dropping off some homemade cookies for no other reason other than they are your neighbour. The threads of love that bind us together are ones that we intentionally take time to knit.

Think of it this way. Would you call a marriage a genuine relationship if all the couple did was to make sure they avoided all the behaviours and actions that annoyed and upset one another? To keep the peace I make sure I put the toilet seat down, squeeze the toothpaste tube from the bottom, and put my dirty clothes in the hamper rather than leave them on the floor. Does making sure I do these things guarantee a healthy marriage? Does this signify a healthy relationship? Or does a healthy relationship also need to include making my wife coffee in the mornings, bringing her the occasional bouquet of flowers, giving her some alone time when she needs it, and going for a walk with her on a beautiful, sunny day?

When God shows us love, he sends his Son. He takes an action. He does something. And when he does this, and we respond, he draws us into a loving relationship with him. It means deliberately asking ourselves: how can I show love to my brothers and sisters in Christ? How can I express this love? How I can give someone else the love I have received from God?

You know, if we ask ourselves these questions and take action, then we will be drawn into relationships with one another. The relationships in a church are about becoming friends with one another. I’m sure we each have friends that, despite how long it’s been since we’ve seen them or how long it’s been since we’ve talked, we can still be honest with them the moment we talk to them again. Friends are those people who accept us without conditions, who are willing to look past our faults, mistakes, and quirks, to see us as we really are.

I remember being at Acadia and for one of my years there I was a volunteer staff worker with IVCF. As a part of my ministry, I met with the staff worker once a week to discuss how things were going. It was a chance to tell him about struggles not only with ministry but even with school or with life. As I shared these feelings, this other person never winced, never judged, and never raised even an eyebrow. Inevitably, I would leave our conversations feeling as though God himself had released me from my fears and insecurities. And as a result my own relationship with God grew and was strengthened. This person was as “Christ” to me. And our relationship was analogous to my relationship with God. It was modelled after that relationship.

These kinds of loving relationships reflect God’s relationship with us—his willingness to look past our sins, to forgive, offer acceptance, to embrace us, and to love without condition. Truly, we can be honest with God. We can lay ourselves bare before him. There is nothing about us that he does not already know; there is nothing we can keep from him. Scripture advises us, in 1 Peter 4:7, “Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you.” We need friendships that have this same quality. Scripture also tells us in Galatians 6:2, “Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

Such loving relationships only happen with time and willingness. It begins with a simple willingness to get to know the others in our midst, however different they may be. It doesn’t mean that we will become good friends with everyone in church, but it does mean that such loving relationships and friendships ought to be a part of our faith experience.

We can trust God not only to save us but also to forgive, to accept, to see us as we are and still show grace to us. Without such a trust in God, we would not have a genuine relationship with him. We would not be living a life of faith. Yet if we believe what the Bible says about God, then we certainly have every reason to trust him. Such trust needs to be a part of our relationships with one another.

Giving the gift of love means extending forgiveness

Trusting other human beings is another matter, however. This brings us to a third point: Giving the gift of love means extending forgiveness. The point of this point is: Loving other people presents us with a challenge since people are not always lovable; in fact, sometimes others, even other fellow Christians, wrong us. This is why we have to learn to extend one another forgiveness. In extending such forgiveness we are modelling our relationships with one another on God’s ultimate act of loving us: forgiving us in Christ.

A Sunday School teacher had just concluded her lesson and wanted to make sure she had made her point. She said, “Can anyone tell me what you must do before you can obtain forgiveness of sin?” There was a short pause and then, from the back of the room, a small boy spoke up. “Sin,” he said.

While we know that God will not betray us, we know that we have a propensity to betray one another. We know that sometimes we don’t have reason to trust one another. We are wary of opening up because of what the other person might do with that information. Will they betray that confidence? Will they turn a confidence into a reason for gossip?

That this is so means we need forgiveness. We need to receive it and we need to extend it. People are not always easy to love, and surely neither are we. No wonder Paul finds himself advising other Christians, “Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”

Clara Barton, founder of the American Red Cross, was reminded one day of a vicious deed that someone had done to her years before. But she acted as if she had never even heard of the incident. “Don’t you remember it?” her friend asked. “No,” came Barton's reply, “I distinctly remember forgetting it.”

How does this relate to giving the gift of love? The apostle Peter tells us in 1 Peter 4:8, “Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins.” Certainly the love of God in Christ has covered the multitude of our sins; our love, through our willingness to forgive as God has forgiven us, covers the sins of those who wrong us. Loving relationships that model God’s love for us are only possible when we are willing to forgive and be forgiven. And in extending such forgiveness we live out the heart of God’s love for us.

Conclusion—love only lives when you give it away

Many people dismiss church, Christianity, Christians, and even pastors as hypocritical. They look at us and see that we are as prone to sin and failure as anyone else and see this as reason to dismiss what we believe. It justifies their belief that believing in God and being a part of a church community really makes no difference in life. As Danny will often say, “The truth serves their purpose.” But our being to prone to sin and failure is not a sign that we are hypocrites. It only provides evidence that we are sinners. To be sinners is not to be hypocritical. We are only hypocrites if we refuse to handle our sin and failures honestly. We are only hypocrites if we ignore our sin or if we refuse to forgive others as God has forgiven us. We are only hypocrites if we choose to hate rather than love.

And all people, whether they realize it or not, need God’s forgiveness and love. All people need to trust God with their lives. If we are not demonstrating such trust, forgiveness, and love in our relationships with one another, we fail to give others reason to trust God.

We read from 1 Corinthians 13 today where Paul describes beautifully the priority of love: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” While Paul is here talking to Christians who were letting pride over spiritual gifts get out of hand, such a description applies equally to all churches everywhere. It applies to each of us. Imagine if it read this way:

“George is patient, Sandy is kind. Susan does not envy, Danny does not boast, Joyce is not proud. Pat does not dishonour others, Marcia is not self-seeking, Telania is not easily angered, Derek keeps no record of wrongs.”

The bottom line is that it is only when we re-gift the love we have received from God can such love truly be alive in us. And only when we re-gift this love to one another can we expect others to see our relationships and be attracted to the loving God we proclaim. Love, as a gift, is only love when we give it away. The price of real relationships is love, we are the currency, and we are called to spend it all. We do this because God, who is the ultimate Giver, gave infinitely more than we could ever give when he gave us his only-begotten Son.

Preaching Through a Series

Our church is using some resources from Natural Church Development. We recently did a survey which gives us a good indication of relative strengths and weaknesses (or as NCD calls them, minimal and maximum factors). Working through the results of that survey ought to, in principle, enable us to increase the health of our church, and church health is measured through eight categories or what NCD calls the eight quality characteristics. Part of my role in this process is to preach a series based on these characteristics. And I have already begun doing do, though without making a big deal that this is a series. Over the next several weeks I'll work through them all.

Thus far I have prepared three related messages: "God the Giver," "Being Gifts," and "The Gift of Love" (which I preach this Sunday). It was only partway through the process of preparing "Being Gifts" that it occurred to me that this could be the beginning of the NCD series. And as you can see, another theme ties all these messages (so far!) together: that of gifts and giving.

As a pastor, I love when I can carry a theme through several messages or when a group of sermons have something of a symmetry about them. Whether I can do this through all the NCD sermons, I have no idea. It seems unlikely, but I'll probably make some effort at seeing it happen. There will be some topics in the series that simply will not relate to the idea of gifts and giving. Here are the characteristics on which the messages will be based:

1. Gift-oriented ministry (already done: "Being Gifts")
2. Loving Relationships (this week: "The Gift of Love")
3. Holistic Small Groups
4. Passionate Spirituality
5. Inspiring Worship
6. Empowering Leadership
7. Functional Structures
8. Need-oriented Evangelism

So these are the themes. And I don't know how I will approach them all yet. A couple of them I may combine (Empowering Leadership and Functional Structures). And I might, I just might, see if if I can use the gift theme throughout. But I don't want it to be forced. Already I have a couple of ideas for the sermon on holistic small groups, and neither have to do with the gift theme. So there you go. One is "Size Matters." Just a way of pointing out the importance of having a small group and how the number of people we've gathered with affects our ability to be ourselves, be open to prayer, etc. I'm thinking of following up this week's message on loving relationships with this one. Though that title idea may be too tongue-in-cheek. Another possible title is "We Are Not Alone."

I'm nearly done my sermon for this Sunday. I probably could have finished it yesterday, but some circumstances got in the way. I'll be on daddy duty tonight while my wife is out for the evening so it has to be finished either before I bring my daughter home or after she goes to bed. Once that sermon is done, I'll post it here, especially since I've already posted my two previous and related sermons here. Of course, doing this is likely making it possible for someone else to steal my sermons and pass them off as their own. I suppose, however, if they do so it ultimately hurts them and their congregations more than me.

Hey pastors out there--do you typically preach in a series or do you preach stand alone sermons? Do you have a preference? And do you take particular care in titling your messages or in making all your points alliterative? Maybe in doing those last couple of things I am a little crazy.

Reclining in My Car

For a very simple reason, today was a wonderful day.

The reason? I cleaned our car. And I didn't even give it the full treatment. I only cleaned the inside not the outside. But, boy, did that make a difference. You see, our car had not been cleaned since, oh, before the winter months. So, yes, it was an utter disaster. I think there were enough empty pop cans under the seats to put our daughter through college. On the odd occasion I would empty our car of some clutter, but let`s just say there were remnants of a Tim Horton`s muffin underneath the front passenger seat for . . . . well, let`s just say long beyond it`s natural expiry date. I`m not entirely sure it was still a muffin when I discarded it today.

My wife makes fun of me whenever I clean the car because whenever I do, or at least quite often when I do, I insist that we go for a drive almost immediately. Going for a drive in a clean car is a much different experience than driving in a car that one could lovingly refer to as `the trash can.` However, today I did not have this option only because upon completion of the cleaning ritual my wife and daughter were still in preschool. It`s no fun by myself. And besides, gas prices these days more or less rule out superfluous car trips. So after this cleaning ritual, the car simply sat in our driveway, looking much the same outside, but looking much better inside.

And so I did what any reasonable person would do in this situation. I gathered together some books--namely my Bible and a couple of commentaries to begin thinking about my next sermon--a glass of ice-water, and sat in the car in the driveway with the radio on. I actually sat in the front passenger seat, put the seat back, read, prayed, and rested. I rolled down the windows and eventually closed my eyes. I even dozed.

Mondays are sort of my day off. Though often they are not very Sabbath-like. I think it was Eugene Peterson who referred to a day off as a bastard Sabbath, and he`s pretty much on the mark there. Mondays tend to be when we go for groceries, run various errands, and do any needed shopping. None of these things, especially when crammed together into one day when accompanied by an energetic three and a half year old, is very restful. Thankfully, today we had to do none of those things. Granted, I did run one errand to the local hardware store for vacuum bags (otherwise cleaning the car would not have happened) and then proceeded across the parking lot to the local Pumpkin Patch (farmer`s market) for some fresh fruit and veggies. But none of this felt rushed. Even cleaning the car didn`t feel work-like. I took my time. There was no hurry. Honestly, cleaning my car felt nearly Sabbath-like. This is so even though I wasn`t exactly doing nothing.

What would be work for some people was not work for me. I was out in the sun, enjoying the blue skies, cool breeze, and the sheer experience of doing something that brought satisfaction and obvious results. It sure didn`t hurt that I had been anticipating the pleasure and joy of cleaning the car for several weeks if not months. Even if while cleaning it I wasn`t physically resting, at least not until I was done and sat in the car reading for a spell, I felt like my spirit was at rest. And this is a much more important thing.

Too Quiet?

Something happens to me when my wife and daughter are away for a night or two. On those fairly regular occasions when they are away, usually at my in-laws, how I use my time changes. Because my evenings are normally taken up with family -- time putting my daughter to bed, time with my wife trying to relax after a busy day, etc. -- I find that when I am on my own my routine is no longer so. Obviously.

There's a part of me that relishes these times. It means that I can work a little easier and without certain constraints. Being the kind of guy who likes some solitude, I also gain a degree of quiet I wouldn't otherwise have. Therein lies the rub. What I gain is also a loss.

The quiet of a house where you are presently the only occupant is not the same as the quiet of a house where your little girl is asleep and you and your wife are reading in bed. The sheer presence of other people in a house, even if they are asleep or otherwise quiet themselves, gives off a certain vibe. Being the only person in the house gives off an entirely different vibe. When my wife and daughter aren't here, it's almost too quiet.

And so if I am alone, my tendency is to keep the TV on all evening. This is so even if I have no interest in watching anything. I remember a quote from the movie about C.S. Lewis, Shadowlands, when Lewis is speaking with a student and says, "We read to know we're not alone." Makes me wonder if this is why I keep the TV on during those evenings when I am sans family. While I have the chance for some quiet, it's not always the kind of quiet I like. This is also probably why I tend to stay up a little later when I'm alone, because once the lights are out, again, it's a quiet of a different kind. Having time like that is a mixed blessing.

When on my own in this way, I also find myself incredibly conscious of how much free time I have without family around. It's amazing how much time simple family time consumes. That's not a complaint, mind you, just the reality of family life. Becoming conscious of all that free time also reminds me of my single days in college when my TV was on for hours at a time for completely different reasons: because I didn't have a family and often literally had nothing better to do or at least no one to do them with. I had much more free time then! To that end, being alone also reminds me of how much a blessing family is. I love my family, and I can also enjoy the blessing of time apart from them, however brief, partly to remind me of how much I love them.

Surprise!

Sometimes God surprises us.

Sometimes?

Well, maybe he surprises us more often than that. Or it could be too that things that should leave us surprised and even gasping in wonder instead become commonplace to the point of being mundane. Those of us who follow Jesus can, over time, come to take certain realities for granted. Good news becomes old hat. This is unfortunate, because there is hardly anything more surprising than salvation. But having been raised in church and in having gone to church essentially my whole life makes it more difficult sometimes to appreciate what in Christ I have been given. I think this is true of more people than just myself. And so we almost stop believing that God can surprise us.

I've been reading great book recently by Miroslav Volf called Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace. Once I am finished, I plan on posting a fuller book review. Right now I'm only about halfway through. But his description of God's nature as Giver and Forgiver is worth its weight in gold. It can occasionally take someone else to stir your heart and mind and remind you, and perhaps teach you anew, about the heart of the good news and the person and work of Jesus Christ. While my family attended a tea party on Sunday afternoon, I took some time for myself to relax and read more of this book. And in the process God surprised me, reminded me, and even brought me something of a fresh understanding of the reality of salvation.

Here's just one example: We often talk about Jesus' death for our sin as replacing ours. Jesus died for our sins, in other words, so we would not have to. And Christ is indeed our substitute. But, as Volf points out, this is not quite how scriptural logic and theology runs. In 2 Corinthians 5:14 Paul says, "One has died for all; therefore all have died." Then Volf says this: "Christ's death doesn't replace our death. It enacts it, he [Paul] suggested . . . Now we see that we were also in Christ. What happened to him, happened to us. When he was condemned, we were condemned. When he died, we died." Volf observes that this what our union with Christ entails. This is what it means to be in Christ. This example connects to Volf's discussion of forgiveness, God's justice, as well as a couple of false images of God that people sometimes gravitate toward.

Anyway, this may or may not genuinely convey my reason for surprise, but it reminded me of how some of our more common ways of speaking about salvation miss the mark or at least the depth of the biblical presentation. We can have very cliched and formulaic ways of talking about salvation in our churches that in their own way diminish the staggering reality of what God has done in Christ. A part of our being able to not only appreciate this reality ourselves but to proclaim this reality to others means recovering a deeper biblical understanding built on the very language Scripture uses. We can hardly expect other people to see salvation in Christ as good news, when for us it continues to be old hat! We, too, need to be surprised (again!) at who God is and what he has done.

Tomorrow's Sermon--"Being Gifts"

I hope that anyone reading this tonight (Saturday, April 3) isn't from my congregation, because that means they'll be getting a double dose of sermonizing. I posted another sermon recently on God as Giver and this one is the follow-up to that one. It's on spiritual gifts. Hope it provides some food for mind and heart. Here it is:

“Being Gifts”
1 Corinthians 12:1 – 26

Introduction—giving what God has given

Now you may not know it by just looking at me, but I don’t know much about cars. Really! Let me tell you a story, just in case you need me to prove my point. Though I’m guessing you probably believe me and don’t need the convincing!

Almost a year ago our car began giving us some trouble. It wouldn’t start when we turned the key. In fact, it wouldn’t do anything when we turned the key. Once, when we were supposed to go into Saint John for an appointment, our car refused to start in our driveway. So I called Ronnie Sullivan. Ron and Gail lived close and I figured he probably knew more about cars than me. He came over, examined our engine carefully, spent time going over different options, and eventually was able to get the car going. At first just getting a boost seemed to do the trick. That didn’t last. Ronnie thought it was either the battery or possibly the fuel pump. It turned out to be the fuel pump.

When our car wouldn’t start, I needed someone else to help. This is because I know virtually nothing about cars. I’m the kind of person who, if I ever found myself stranded on the side of the road unable to get my car started, would open the hood, look at the engine and hope against hope that I would see a big, brightly coloured OFF/ON button! So I need someone else who really knows what to look for under the hood of our car. Thankfully Ronnie was available to give his time, knowledge, and experience—and in giving these things, he gave himself to help me.

A few weeks ago we talked about how everything we have is sheer gift, given us by God the ultimate Giver; how we do not deserve the gifts he gives; and how as a result we are called to become good givers ourselves. Now this week we’re going to elaborate on that last point: what it means to become good givers. Specifically, I want to talk about is spiritual gifts. We’ll see that it’s about giving to others what God has given to us. And hopefully at the end of all this we will see that it’s not so much about what gifts we have as it is what gifts we are.

God gives us all spiritual gifts

I have a close friend whose son will soon be five years old. So he and his wife are now looking into educational options. Their son is also exceptionally bright, and is already doing grade three reading and math, so they have understandable concerns about how he will take to the public school system. Friends at their church who are teachers have already told them that the public system isn’t going to know what to do with him! We could easily say, then, that this little boy is gifted.

Not every child is gifted in this sense. Not every boy and girl is this advanced in their skills and abilities. Not every four year old boy and girl is capable of reading at a grade three level. So we call such children gifted. The problem is that sometimes we take that term—gifted—and apply it in ways that are inappropriate.

In other words, when we hear the word gifted, we usually hear the word “exceptional.” Or we hear some people but not me. “Sure,” you think, “Some people can work at an advanced level, but I’m average. I’m not gifted.”

So then we apply this logic to the notion of spiritual gifts. People hear “spiritual gifts” and think that this term only applies to a select few, perhaps the spiritually elite of the church. They think of spiritual giftedness in the same way that we think of a gifted child, as the exception rather than the rule. But this isn’t how Scripture sees it.

We read from 1 Corinthians 12 this morning. And there Paul lists some spiritual gifts. He does the same in Ephesians 4 and Romans 12. These lists of gifts in Scripture are not exhaustive. In other words, there are spiritual gifts that God can give to his people that are not listed here. For instance, I don’t see listed in any of these passages the gift of music—and, no, singing does not count as speaking in tongues! But certainly we would include music as a spiritual gift. This just means that if you find yourself scanning these Scriptures and don’t see anything you think might be your spiritual gift, it doesn’t mean you don’t have one; it just means Paul didn’t mention it.

This means that every Christian—every person who has accepted Christ as Lord and confesses him with their lips and lives—has a spiritual gift. This is the rule and there are no exceptions. That means each of us is gifted! So if you are born again and trust in God as your redeemer, you have a spiritual gift, whether you know what it is or not.

Spiritual gifts are simply the unique ways God has made it possible for each of us to serve one another, to give ourselves to one another in love, for the purpose of growing in Christ. God has made you to serve those around you in a way that is uniquely you. Your specific combination of passions, interests, talents, experiences, and personality all come together to make your unique giftedness. It’s not just about what you have. Who you are is a gift.

God only gives the gifts we need

How many of you remember the comic strip by Gary Larson called The Far Side? I remember seeing one once that showed a huge group of penguins. Now of course all of these penguins looked the same. And right in the middle of the cartoon one of these penguins was standing up, holding his little wings in the air, and singing at the top of his lungs, “I gotta be me!” This poor penguin, though he looked exactly like all the others, wanted desperately to be unique, to be different, to be distinct from the crowd around him.

As we can see in our passage, Paul tells us there are a variety of gifts and activities given us by God. Paul makes this quite clear. Also clear is the fact God gives these gifts according to his will and purposes. We’re not the ones who determine our gifts: “All these [gifts] are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses,” Paul says in v.11. Earlier he says “there are varieties of activities but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.” God decides who gets what gifts.

Sometimes we don’t like people who are different. From a very young age we learn to exclude people because of their differences—because of how they differ from us. We learn to distinguish, and we learn to discriminate. We form cliques and sub-groups. And I’m guessing school is pretty much the same—that kids are still organized according to the groups into which they fit.

And sometimes we don’t like being different. From a very young age we learn to conform, to try and fit in so that we will be included. We minimize our differences, and often what makes us unique, what makes us us, so that others will accept us.

When either of these attitudes infects a church, it’s a sickening sight. It was happening at Corinth. Some were saying, arrogantly, that there were people in the church who weren’t needed—the eye was saying to the hand, “I don’t need you”—and some were saying that they weren’t needed—“Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body.”

But Paul undercuts both attitudes: any attitude of arrogance or superiority that looks at others and says, “I don’t need you!” and any attitude of inferiority or insecurity that looks at others and says, “They don’t need me.” Neither attitude is scriptural.

Now before I found myself in need of Ronnie’s help with our car, I might not have considered his skills and gifts that important. It’s possible that I might have thought myself superior—I have, after all, many years of theological education under my belt! Or even as he was helping me I might have lamented my own inability when it comes to cars. I might have found myself envious rather than grateful, wishing that I had his gift instead of whatever gift or gifts I have. Neither of these reactions to someone else’s skills is a good one.

But while I definitely am not the sort of person you ask over to help fix your car, the next time Ronnie can’t get any sleep because he just can’t understand the doctrine of the Trinity or because he’s particularly distressed about that whole free will-predestination conundrum, I’ll be there!

Whatever the particularities of your personality, your history, experiences, your life, you are a gift to those around you—and you are as needed as anyone else in the body of Christ. And whatever you may think of those around you, however their personality, their habits, their quirks may rub you the wrong way, they are a gift to you. We need one another precisely because of our differences. God has given us the spiritual gifts we need to grow in Christ. That is to say, we need one another to grow in Christ.

God ultimately gives us one another

I was having coffee with another pastor this past week and we were talking about spiritual gifts, and he said something that has stuck with me. He said that spiritual fruit is the fuel for the spiritual gifts. And in a way, this speaks to God’s reason for giving us spiritual gifts.

Spiritual fruit is about having the character of Jesus—about becoming more Christ-like. We need to have both the fruit of the Spirit and the gifts of the Spirit. God gives us the gifts of the Spirit so that we can help one another follow Christ. It’s how we build one another up and encourage one another. The purpose of the gifts is Christ-centered. Put another way, we are called to support each other in becoming more Christ-like.

James Packer puts it this way: “For Paul it is only through Christ, in Christ, and by learning of and responding to Christ, that anyone is ever edified. So spiritual gifts must be defined in terms of Christ as actualized powers of expressing, celebrating, displaying, and thus communicating Christ in one way or another, either by word or deed.”

As someone who plays a little guitar, I can improve my skills and my playing to a certain degree on my own. I can study and increase my understanding of music. But nothing makes a better musician than playing with other musicians. So when I practice with the worship team, I learn things that I could never learn on my own. Not to mention the fact that the music sounds better with more people playing!

I might be able to grow as a follower of Jesus on my own to a certain extent, but I can only become more fully mature as a follower of Jesus when I practice with other Christians. You’ve heard the saying about couples, “They make beautiful music together”? The same is true of Christians working together to follow Jesus.

If one of you encourages me in my walk with Christ, in the way that God enables you to do so, the gift you have given me is you. By helping me follow Christ, you are being a gift to me. That’s what spiritual gifts are ultimately about: giving ourselves to one another. Preparing for today’s message, I was reading a commentary on our passage from Paul. One of the things the author said really gets to the heart of what this is about. He said, “It is not so much a matter of having a gift as of being a gift.”

God gives us spiritual gifts; and in so doing he gives us to one another, you to me and me to you. These spiritual gifts are not only given by God, they are empowered by God’s Spirit; they are only effective because of God. This means it’s not about congratulating ourselves on whatever gifts we have, but being thankful for the gifts we are and the gifts we have in one another. Being spiritual gifts is about being Christ to one another; the purpose of these gifts is to build up the body of Christ.

To sum up, the source of these gifts is God; their power is from the Spirit; and their purpose is to lead us and others closer to Jesus. We are given to one another so that we might be more fully given over to Jesus and his kingdom. And it is because these gifts are embodied in specific people that it is, as I said, more about being gifts than having gifts. This means you can’t separate the gift from the person.

Conclusion—imitating the Giver by being gifts

In his book Free of Charge Miroslav Volf says this: “In and of itself, no particular thing in the world is a gift. We do have so-called gift shops, full of all sorts of little things we usually give to friends and acquaintances. But things sitting on the store shelf are not gifts. Just like any other thing, an item from that store becomes a gift when you buy it and give it to someone else. A gift is a social relation, not an entity or an act in itself. It is an event between people.”

Take a moment and look around you. Imagine each of the people around you as gifts—as gifts precisely in their uniqueness, because of how they are different from you—and ask yourself, “Who here has been a gift to me and how? Who here has helped me follow Christ, has helped me in my faith?” And then take another moment and ask yourself, “How can I be a gift to these people? How can I help someone else follow Christ better? How can I help someone in their walk of faith?” Knowing how you are a spiritual gift begins by asking such questions.

One of the practical consequences of thinking through spiritual gifts is considering how well our present church structures and ministries allow people opportunity to be the gifts they are and to use the gifts they have. In traditional church culture, this is how it usually goes: there are specific non-negotiable ministries and programs (Sunday school, youth group, Bible study, etc.) and so we try and find people to fit the positions needed to run these programs.

But what if ministries and programs were instead organized according to people’s spiritual gifts in the church? One of the characteristics of a healthy church according to Natural Church Development is a gift-oriented ministry. The notion here is to say, well, we have some people gifted in this area so how can we create a ministry opportunity for them and help prepare them to serve more effectively? In this model, programs and ministries are defined by who people are not simply by what we need them to do.

Such an approach to ministry, to church life, to following Jesus together as a community, does a much better job at honouring the unique ways God has made each of us. It makes ministry more about relationships than activities. It grounds our identity as a church more securely in the sovereignty of God by basing what we do on what he has given us. It helps us recognize more clearly our need for one another because the spiritual gifts are given, as Paul says, “for the common good.”

And ultimately to recognize the distinct ways God has enabled us to serve, how it is that we are gifts to each other, is what it means to honour God the ultimate Giver who has not only given us to one another but has also given himself. Today we receive these gifts, the bread and the cup, as we celebrate that God, in his infinite mercy and out of his abundant grace, has given us his Son, Jesus Christ, and that in doing so has given us life. May we, in being good stewards of the life we have been given, also be gifts to one another.

A Daddy and Daughter Day

So far today has been a special sort of adventure. And it's not the kind of adventure that happens too often. Today was a rare daddy-daughter day. Here's some of the things we did:

• Had donuts at Tim's
• Played Thomas and friends on her train table
• Played with Lego
• Ate macaroni and cheese (her favourite!) for lunch
• Made Pillsbury chocolate chip cookies for dessert
• Played hide 'n go seek with blankets and pillows
• Took her for a ride around the neighbourhood on her tricycle and visited our milkman
• Spent time playing on her slide in the backyard
• Went for a walk in the woods behind our house
• Tossed rocks and stones in a brook
• Came home, watched Veggie Tales and ate more chocolate chip cookies
• BBQed hot dogs for supper
• Visited our next-door neighbours (where she was given another cookie!)
• Had a much needed bath
• Got ready for bed
• Read bedtime stories and devotions
  
  

As you can see, it was a full day. As you can also see, it included a variety of "treatsies," as she calls them. What can I say, we don't have many days like this! Daddy gets to spoil his little girl on such occasions!

What I enjoyed about it is that it was completely silly time. It was completely non-work time. Once, when I was on the computer but not really working, she upbraided me and said, "No work! Play with me!" Wise words. While not overtly religious in any sense, our day together still had a Sabbath-like quality, and I was reminded about how necessary, even if difficult, it is to spend time this way. Of course, she had no trouble at all spending a day with me without doing any work. I guess I can learn from that!

No Shortcuts

For much of the last year or so my family and I have had to deal with a serious health issue. Early last winter my wife began struggling with a major depression and while there has been major improvement since then there are still ups and downs. Some ups and downs are bigger than others, but the fact remains that this health issue has, in some sense, defined us as a family. I suppose it's not unlike a family dealing with any serious illness or chronic disease, one that seems to persist or lasts a long period of time. That, of course, doesn't necessarily make it any easier.

I can't completely identify with my wife's situation. I can't completely understand how she feels when she's at her worst moments of depression. I can only be there for her. And even then there have been times when I felt absolutely powerless, able only to offer my presence, weak and fragile though that may seem.

So though I can't speak for her, I can speak for myself, and perhaps for others who live with loved ones dealing with ongoing health issues that are serious and seemingly endless. Being the primary caregiver in such a situation carries with it its own kind of weight and difficulties. Saying so isn't revealing some secret unbeknownst to those cared for. My wife knows full well how her health adds an extra layer of pressure and stress. That said, as someone who has the role of caregiver, I deliberately seek not to dump my feelings and frustrations that result from this role on her lap.

There have been a number of moments, especially when her depression was at its worst, when all I could do was hold her and plead with God to make her better. And I have pleaded. I have begged. I am not proud when it comes to knocking on heaven's door on behalf of my family--my wife or my little girl. Our tears and cries have formed supplications that have stretched the distance between heaven and earth. I can't tell you how many times I have prayed simply for God to heal my wife, to take away this depression completely, to restore to her the joy of her salvation and the simple joy of life itself. And yet her depression, though not presently at its worst, still persists. Why? Why hasn't God done what I've asked?

I don't know that I have an answer. Though it seems to me that prayers for physical healing often go unanswered, at least as far as we're concerned. Someone from our church has cancer. We pray and we pray and we pray. But still there is no physical healing. Is it that we don't pray hard enough, with enough faith, long enough, boldly enough? Is it that we pray but still reserve the right to doubt not if but whether God will heal? Is it that we are so shaped and defined by a worldview that eliminates the possibility of miracle that, try though we may, we just can't bring ourselves to believe that even the most ardent prayers will result in healing?

In dealing with being a caregiver, I think I have part of an answer. I've already said that in being a caregiver there are frustrations and difficulties involved. Sometimes that's an understatement. Sometimes I have found myself feeling as though I was at the end of my rope, unable to give anymore, unable to muster any more kindness, patience, or practical expressions of love. I just want the situation to go away, not just for my wife's sake but for my own. Whatever anyone else may say about me, there are times when I am hardly a selfless caregiver, someone whose heart overflows with unending support for my beloved. Instead, I give, but begrudgingly; I support, but hard-heartedly; and I love, but almost unwillingly.

Why do I share all of this? I do so because any prayers I utter for my wife's healing can be as much shaped by my own response to her as they can be by her actual condition. And when my response to her or the situation, expressed or not, is one of frustration and impatience, then my prayers are not without a layer of selfishness. In other words, I pray, "God, heal my wife so I won't have to deal with this anymore!" Such a prayer may be honest, but it's not necessarily good.

Having been put in the position of caregiver means learning to love in difficult terrain. This is not a straight, smooth highway absent of detours, potholes, and unexpected turns. Love comes easy when all is well; but love is proven mature only when things fall to pieces. Not that our life as a family has fallen to pieces; no, but there are cracks in the wood and chips in the paint.

Asking God to completely heal my wife may sometimes be noble, but often the nobility of such a request is tainted by less than noble motives. I want to skip over the difficult times. Or I want to fast forward through a rough patch. But ironic though it is, God's goodness usually doesn't permit this. Strangely, God's goodness often consists in letting us go through such periods. There is no guarantee of daily happiness attached as small print to our gift of salvation in Christ. We are not promised lives free of wear and tear. Yet my prayers often betray a desire for precisely this. Is it possible that this is why such prayers are sometimes left unanswered? Is this why God so often says no?

There are no shortcuts to growing in Christ, to growing the fruit of the Spirit in our lives. And most of the time such growth requires that we weather storms and sunny skies. You can't grow anything without rain and sun. To ask that God would help us sidestep the gales of life is to ask that we be given a shortcut to maturity and wholeness. There is no better environment to learn to love than one where love is extracted from the giver only with sacrifice and even pain. There is no better environment to learn to love my wife than one where love is drawn from me only at the expense of myself. If love is the price, we are the currency, and we are asked, in love, to spend it all. There is no way that can ever be easy.

Do I still pray for healing? Do I still ask God to remove my wife's depression? I do. I most certainly do. Do I expect him to do so? Do I think that one day she will wake up and feel completely healed, having been freed from her present bondage? I have no idea. I've decided, as much as possible, to leave that in God's hands. I don't know what his will is there. For all I know she could get up tomorrow and, thanks to God, leave depression behind like a distant and faint memory. Or for all I know this will be something we will have to deal with for the long-term, to greater and lesser degrees.

What I do know for sure is that my own prayers for her healing are themselves imperfect, reminders of my own self-centeredness even as I care for her. So while I continue to pray for healing, I also pray that in the meantime I will love as I should: patiently, kindly, generously, without complaining or grumbling. Perhaps such prayers result in their own kind of healing, a healing of wounds that my sin has inflicted. What I hope is that such prayers may change me so that as I do continue to pray for her healing, I do so more for her than for myself. And there are no shortcuts to reach that destination.

The silliness of preaching?

I was just sitting here working on my sermon for Sunday, and a thought occurred to me. It's not the first time such a thought has occurred to me either. That thought is this: isn't there something particularly silly or odd about preaching?

In no other setting can I imagine a group of people willingly (more or less!) listening to me talk about something, anything, for anywhere between 20 -- 30 minutes. There are other settings when in the middle of a conversation I find it hard to get a word in edgewise. And there are definitely times when I feel distinctly unheard by those around me. But here, for that brief time on Sunday mornings, people sit respectfully, quietly, attentively (this last one is harder to measure!) while I share what I have learned from God's word. Where else could this happen?

I was reading recently David Murrow's book, Why Men Hate Going to Church, and one of the things he said resonated a little bit. He questioned the whole standard format of the sermon as a 20 -- 30 minute lecture-style presentation of biblical truth, asking why it is that this form dominates when there is evidence to suggest that it's not the most effective means of communicating truth. Murrow argues that this is especially true for men, that men do not generally respond well to this style of presentation.

I said this resonated with me somewhat. I guess this is because sometimes when preaching I can feel this enormous gap between myself (when at the pulpit) and the congregation. Or perhaps it's better to say that I can sense a barrier. I feel set apart in a way that makes me uncomfortable and that seems to create a performer-audience dynamic. I'm on the platform, they're in the chairs, and there is this uncrossable space in between.

Preaching, however defined and executed, should ideally be done in such a way as to eliminate this barrier and bridge this gap as much as possible. All I know is that I want there to be a connection between myself and the congregation. Lots of things factor into this from style of preaching to the physical layout of the sanctuary, but if I'm going to have their attention for that amount of time I want it to be as personal an experience as possible. I guess you might say that I want my style of preaching to exemplify as much as possible the fact that faith is personal, relational, and livable. Not that I always, or even often, get there but it's something I want to grow toward.

How I preach and what I preach ought to be related. This is so because as silly as preaching may seem in some ways, it's an invaluable opportunity, an enormous privilege, and a humbling responsibility. While Christ's choosing us to bear his message may have a ring of ridiculousness about it (considering who we are), there is nothing ridiculous or silly about the message itself (considering who Christ is).

So, to return to my original thought and question: isn't there something particularly silly or odd about preaching? Yes. And the silliness, foolishness, and oddity of preaching really points to the heart of the message in a way: that God chooses and wills to redeem us, foolish and sinful and wicked as we are, and that he then chooses to use us to carry that same message to others. There's something silly about me preaching because it's me preaching.

Me.

The only thing that qualifies me for preaching is God's call and will to use me. Who am I to tell others to repent when the need for repentance still clings to me like dirt? Who am I to exhort others to live lives of love when I still put myself first in countless ways each day? Who am I to explain the truth of Christ to others when my grasp of it remains so feeble and incomplete? That I am called to preach points to the heart of the gospel. That any human being is called to preach points to the heart of the gospel. And this is why the power of preaching lies not in human words, speaking techniques, or communication skills (good and useful as all these are), but rather in the power of God himself, in his Spirit, to take whatever silly and weak words I have strung together into sentences, paragraphs, points, and punchlines, and use them to change hearts, minds, and lives. In other words, nothing is impossible with God. Even so, Sarah laughed. Sometimes we do too.