My prayer last night, as we started our men’s group was this. “Spirit of God, help us tonight to help each other.” I like that word, “help”. We all need help, whether we know it or not, whether we admit it, or not. And we all can offer help, if we are being led by the Spirit of God. Every one of us.
The Holy Spirit lives in each one of us who has chosen to trust Jesus. Fathom that, God’s Spirit dwelling in me. He is there to be my helper. That is the name that Catherine Marshall gives to the Holy Spirit, “The Helper”, interpreting the title that Jesus gave to the Spirit whom the Father would send to us (John 14:16). Others translate the term as counselor, advocate, or paraclete. But I like the name, Helper.
And the Helper doesn’t just help me, but He helps me to help others. That is what the grace-gifts are all about. The Sprit of God in me empowers me and motivates me to help others.
That is why I prayed that prayer. I wanted to turn loose the Holy Spirit in that group of guys that night. And I wanted them to be empowered and encouraged to help one another. And wow, you should have been there to see it happen. I wish you could have peeked in on us.
Following are some excerpts from a recent online article, Why We Don’t Need “Women’s” Ministries. I don't know the author, Sarah Bessey, but some of the things she wrote are worth sharing.
Dear Women's Ministry:
We're choking on cutesy things and crafty bits, safe lady topics, and if one more person says that modest is hottest with a straight face, I may throw up. We are hungry for authenticity and vulnerability…. Some of us are drowning, suffocating, dying of thirst for want of the cold water of real community. We're trying really hard--after all, we keep showing up to your lady events, and we leave feeling just a bit empty. It's just more of the same every time.
We need Jesus. We are seeking deep spirituality. We are seeking fellow travelers. We are hungry for true community, a place to tell our stories and listen to another, to love well. But above all, point me to Jesus--not to the sale at the mall.
You know what I would have liked instead of decorating tips or a new recipe? I would have liked to pray together. I would have liked the women of the church to share their stories or wisdom with one another, no more celebrity speakers, please just hand the microphone to that lady over there that brought the apples. I would love to wrestle with some questions that don't have a one-paragraph answer in your study guide. I would like to do a Bible study that does not have pink or flowers on the cover. I would have liked to sign up to bring a meal for our elderly or drop off some clothes for a new baby or be informed about issues in our city where we can make space for God
We want to wrestle through our theology. We want to listen to each other. We want to worship, we want to intercede for our sisters and weep with those who weep, rejoice with those that rejoice, to create life and art and justice with intention.
Let's be a community of women, gathered together to live more whole-heartedly, to sharpen, challenge, love, and inspire one another to then scatter back out to our worlds bearing the mandate to be women that love.
I'll bring the cupcakes next time (although they likely won't look as cute).
(http://www.churchleaders.com/pastors/pastor-articles/155219-sarah-bessey-why-women-s-ministry-needs-jesus.html#.Tt6516W_Aio.facebook)
The same can be said of men’s ministries. And home groups, too. Don’t think otherwise. Small groups are where church really happens. We have to be real; we have to trust God and others with who we really are. We have to know how to love and minister grace, not just bandy about truth, rehashed and hand-me-down. We have to let the love of God change our hearts, the truth of God change our direction, and the Spirit of God help us with real life issues. Then we can be men and women empowered and focused on helping others.
By the way, just so you know, I bring Chewy Chips Ahoy. My favorite. But then there’s those times that Pete’s wife sends something delectable. Oh yeah!
“The church is only the church when she exists for others.” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer)
December 14, 2011
December 7, 2011
Dear Friends And Gentle Hearts
On an icy January morning many years ago, a man was found collapsed and bleeding in a twenty-five-cent-a-night flophouse, the North American Hotel on the lower east side of Manhattan, New York. He had fallen and hit his head on a sink, shattering the porcelain, causing a severe laceration. Doctors sewed up the gash in his head as best they could, but the wound and the booze had taken their toll. Three nights later he died in his sleep. He was only 37 years old.
A nurse gathering his belongings found a dirty coat with a few personal belongings. In his worn leather wallet, there was found a scrap of paper on which was written, "Dear friends and gentle hearts", along with 38 cents in Civil War scrip and three pennies. Those five words seemed almost like the words of a song, she thought. And she was right. This poor man turned out to have been the songwriter who penned some of America’s most beloved music, including “Swanee River,” “Oh! Susanna,” “My Old Kentucky Home,” and hundreds more. He was Stephen Foster, considered by many to be the father of American music.
He wasn’t always down on his luck, an outcast. Like any derelict, he wasn’t always in that condition. He was once successful, full of promise and hope, happily married, creative and hard-working. But eventually, and way too early in life, he was cut down by the pruning knife of time. A few wrong choices, some unfortunate circumstances, plenty of unrealized dreams, no income from his life’s passion -- all led to the tragedy of an unfulfilled life.
How do we look at the down and out, the man or woman who has lost hope, the hurting and needy? Are we cold and aloof, judging that they brought it upon themselves? Do we think that if they only tried a little harder they could get out of the deep dark hole they got themselves into? Do we say “I’m too busy”, presuming that someone else will help them?
Jesus told the story of “The Good Samaritan” (Luke 10:25-37). A man was beaten, robbed, and left for dead on the Jericho Road. Two godly, respectable, honorable men came upon the beaten man. Certainly the priest or the Levite would be prompted by God’s love to help this man. But no, they walked right on by, crossing over to the sidewalk on the other side of the street to go around him. Then a Samaritan man happened by, a social outcast himself, a man despised by those to whom Jesus was telling the story. The Samaritan man stopped and gave first aid, transported the man into town, and paid for his medical care. Jesus then asked the legalist standing at the front of the crowd, the man who had prompted the story, to tell him which of the three was the “neighbor” to the injured man. He answered, “the one who acted in mercy.”
A friend is one who responds with a gentle heart and acts out of compassion. Dear friends and gentle hearts, let’s go and do likewise.
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27; Deut 6:5; Lev 19:18)
A nurse gathering his belongings found a dirty coat with a few personal belongings. In his worn leather wallet, there was found a scrap of paper on which was written, "Dear friends and gentle hearts", along with 38 cents in Civil War scrip and three pennies. Those five words seemed almost like the words of a song, she thought. And she was right. This poor man turned out to have been the songwriter who penned some of America’s most beloved music, including “Swanee River,” “Oh! Susanna,” “My Old Kentucky Home,” and hundreds more. He was Stephen Foster, considered by many to be the father of American music.
He wasn’t always down on his luck, an outcast. Like any derelict, he wasn’t always in that condition. He was once successful, full of promise and hope, happily married, creative and hard-working. But eventually, and way too early in life, he was cut down by the pruning knife of time. A few wrong choices, some unfortunate circumstances, plenty of unrealized dreams, no income from his life’s passion -- all led to the tragedy of an unfulfilled life.
How do we look at the down and out, the man or woman who has lost hope, the hurting and needy? Are we cold and aloof, judging that they brought it upon themselves? Do we think that if they only tried a little harder they could get out of the deep dark hole they got themselves into? Do we say “I’m too busy”, presuming that someone else will help them?
Jesus told the story of “The Good Samaritan” (Luke 10:25-37). A man was beaten, robbed, and left for dead on the Jericho Road. Two godly, respectable, honorable men came upon the beaten man. Certainly the priest or the Levite would be prompted by God’s love to help this man. But no, they walked right on by, crossing over to the sidewalk on the other side of the street to go around him. Then a Samaritan man happened by, a social outcast himself, a man despised by those to whom Jesus was telling the story. The Samaritan man stopped and gave first aid, transported the man into town, and paid for his medical care. Jesus then asked the legalist standing at the front of the crowd, the man who had prompted the story, to tell him which of the three was the “neighbor” to the injured man. He answered, “the one who acted in mercy.”
A friend is one who responds with a gentle heart and acts out of compassion. Dear friends and gentle hearts, let’s go and do likewise.
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27; Deut 6:5; Lev 19:18)
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