I did a message this ministry Sunday about getting back to the Garden of Eden.  It was about being in constant communication with God, even when it comes to the small things.  In a way, I got a direct illustration on what that might mean after our third service for our ministry.  On the second row at the back, there was a gentleman frozen and unmoving.  He wasn’t older like many of the seniors we meet so he probably had ALS or some other kind of disease that causes this.  He stared straight ahead without any response.  I never assume that someone doesn’t understand because I don’t know for sure if they do, so when I stepped forward to greet him after the service, I stopped directly in front of him and stooped down to look in his eyes.  I asked him how he was and not even an eyelid blinked, but he seemed to be looking at me, so I plodded forward to acknowledge him.  I told him I understood that he couldn’t communicate, but I asked him if I could pray for him.  Then, a tiny flicker of recognition and a slight move, barely perceptible, of the head told me it was okay.

I prayed out loud that God would be present with this man and that the man would feel God’s presence within his heart and mind.  I asked God to relieve his suffering and to be with him one day at time for the time that he would have left.  Finishing my prayer, I lifted my eyes and saw a tear coming out of his right eye.  I knew I hadn’t seen it before, and I knew it wasn’t a fluke.  I knew that inside that frozen body, cried out a man who wanted to be heard and listened to.  It’s not fair to be locked inside of a broken body.

In a way, today’s message of getting back to Eden was so perfect.  The message was about what it might have been like before man’s fall when God was present with Adam and Eve in the garden.  Would God have been always present, always available?  What would that feel like to live our lives in that kind of relationship with the One who created us?  I try to think of it as a way of living where God is always present in our hearts, souls, and minds.  It would be a way of living where we shared both little and big experiences with Him.    That kind of relationship could be a real blessing to a person locked inside their broken body.

Wouldn’t we act differently if each day we were aware of God’s presence and involvement in our lives?  I think so.  I think we would be kinder to others and gentler with people.  I think we would help one another and pray about every little thing.  We would pray that our garden grows better and know that the minor events of today are as important to God as the big things.  I think we’d even drive a car differently if we drove as if Jesus were sitting in the back seat.  Living that way would probably mean that we were a lot more involved in working with those in less fortunate circumstances. Ultimately, I think we would be as available to God as we expect Him to be to us.

A friend of mine turned me on to a web site called Letters of Note, a web site dedicated to sharing letters and notes that are sent or received from or about famous people. One of his recent links was a particularly poignant letter written by the Wilmar Union School District principal thanking Alfred Hitchcock for stopping by and visiting a group of children on his way to Bodega Bay. In the letter, he tells the story about the big difference it made to a particularly shy young man. Besides the fact that this letter was so well written and meaningful, it illustrated the importance to me of the difference that small gestures often make in the lives of others.

Sometimes, we think that we have to have a big gesture to make a difference in other’s lives, but I have become convinced that our lives are made up of hundreds and hundreds of tiny gestures and small moments. Together, these tiny moments shape us across the span of our lives. Sometimes, a brief moment can change the course of our lives forever.

There is something definitively American about our desire to grow a small act of charity into a grass roots movement that stretches across the entire nation, but not every charitable undertaking can function at that scale. Some charitable enterprises work best locally and on a small scale. There are often no fireworks to signal the action or even accolades to follow. Often, charity is unrewarded and unnoticed, and yet, those are often the most meaningful and important.

Of course, we can all agree that so much can be done when we embrace the philosophy that “many hands make light work,” but we should also remember that one hand, offered with great love, is beautiful in its own right and always meaningful to the person receiving it. I think that sometimes we lose focus on the simplicity of doing small acts of kindness because we are trying to grow them into something bigger than they need to be. Perhaps instead, we should be allowing charity and love to live through us in such a way that it can be experienced by others in many small ways.

When I hear the stories of children eleven and younger who start nationwide organizations, I am proud and amazed to learn of such great things, but not every person has the resources or the opportunity and not all of us have the benefit of fame as Alfred Hitchcock did. What most of us do have the opportunity for is to be a daily reminder of love and acceptance to all we encounter. We all have the opportunity to be contagious with kindness. That kind of contagion changes the world one moment at a time, one person at a time, and one day at time. It’s a viral way of living a new kind of philosophy, and it isn’t always easy. It often takes great intent, thought, and effort, but we can only hope that it becomes an outbreak in a world that seems thirsty for it.

One part of my day job is to train adults in the use of software applications.  As part of that job, I have been slowly learning ways to get and gain the attention of those in my classes.  Adults are often not any better at paying attention when in an instructional situation than children are, and when it comes to hand-held technology, adults are often worse.  So, it’s important to develop ways to re-engage students and keep them on task during the progress of the training.

I have a naturally loud voice.  People never have trouble hearing me at the back of a room as my voice can be as good as any amplifier, and when I am losing the attention of my students, it’s tempting for me to just get louder and louder.  One of the first things that I learned in training is that louder isn’t necessarily better and it doesn’t necessarily mean that your students will stay engaged.  So, we sometimes use little things like personal space proximity to get someone’s attention.  If I see a person playing with their cell, I simply walk forward and stand directly in front of them.   It works nearly every time.  The person will stop and put their cell phone away immediately.

The same is true when we try to engage others in conversations, especially when it comes to conversations about faith.  I think a lot of Christians try to be the loudest voice when it comes to talking about faith.  We try to have the final word and be the final authority, but that almost never retains the attention of those we engage.  In fact, it often has a detrimental effect.  During church service this Sunday, I noticed how soft-spoken the pastor was, and yet, it was a very compelling message.  Sometimes, a soft voice is actually more compelling than a loud one.

Maybe there is a place for a preacher pounding the pulpit and shouting a message, but in the everyday, we have to find ways to share our faith with a whisper instead of shout.  I’ve always felt that the best way to be heard is to just be myself.  Of course, that also comes with knowing who you are and being secure within yourself.  When we understand ourselves, we are better able to engage others in positive ways with confidence and with love.

Most Christians would agree that the gospel is a beautiful and awesome story, but it’s not quite as beautiful when it’s shouted.  It’s most beautiful when it’s told as a love story and when it’s placed within a context of love and compassion.  When the story is told from your own perspective with beauty and wisdom, it comes to life for those who are listening.  Sometimes, it doesn’t have to be told in literal terms and it blooms out of our actions and character.  So often our actions speak louder than words.

In John 15:16, Jesus tells his disciples that they have not chosen him, but he has chosen them and that they should, “go and bring forth fruit…”  Fruit grows from the blossom of a tree that is rooted in good earth.  It’s something that is pure and nurtured, not fabricated or faked.  Growing fruit is one of the most natural processes in this world and our faith should feel exactly the same way.

Marcia was wiped out. She’d just returned from a mission trip with her church’s youth group. They had spent three days at skid row in Los Angeles where they had visited nearly every mission down there. Their three-day mission trip had been a real mind-blower, but her favorite experience had been the Wednesday night Karaoke night at the Central City Community Outreach (for more information about this program go to http://www.lacentralcity.org/programs/karaoke.php).  She’d noticed that most of the missions didn’t provide much in the way of a sense of community. Most of the homeless went, ate, and left, but on Wednesday nights at Central City, the homeless community became just that–community.

Marcia watched with amazement as everyone cheered one another on.  There were good, bad, and some really awesome singers.  One particular woman had very little hair because of cancer treatments, mental illness issues, and a pretty crazy outfit on top of all that. She stepped forward for her opportunity to sing and chose “Amazing Grace.” The whole place lifted arms in the air and swayed to the sacred song. Tears started to spill onto Marcia’s cheeks as she watched everyone around her fully engaged in the moment. Jesus was there.

Then, they announced that everyone should clear up the chairs, and they made room for dancing. The whole room did the electric slide. After that, a huge, smiling, African American man took Marcia in his arms and started to lead her in a dance with him. Marcia had been a dancer back in the day, and she knew the moves as he led with expertise. Then when the music faded, they hugged each other. He came back at the very end to hug her one more time before he went on his way.

So, it’s understandable that she was tired when she got back, and so she told God and everyone at her church that she was off duty the following day. She went down to the boardwalk and let the wind blow through her hair for a while. It was one of those beautiful Southern California days as God’s peace refilled her. Finally, she decided that on her way home she would stop at the local Starbucks and get herself a cappuccino, so she swung into Starbucks and caught sight of a seventeen-year-old boy there. He was holding a sign that said, “Hungry. Need Food.” She sighed. Didn’t God know she was off duty? Hadn’t she just announced to everyone that she was? But even as she thought that, she knew she would stop and feed the young man. So, she took him to lunch. He was running from an abusive family, living on the streets, dropped out of school. It’s a common enough story, if you’re willing to listen.

The thing about Marcia is that she’s always willing to listen, even when she’s supposed to be off duty. She sees the people that most of us would walk right past, and then she stops. As I listened to Marcia’s stories, a strange memory came into my mind. I thought of part of the poem that’s etched on a scroll inside the base of the Statue of Liberty. “…Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse from your teeming shores. Send this, the hopeless, tempest-tost to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

In a sense, we Christians are lifting our lamps to those who need our compassion, mercy, and sometimes a square meal. If we are to stand beside God’s golden door, we have a responsibility to not be blind to the tired, the hopeless, and the poor. In her small way, Marcia has been doing what’s doable. She has lifted her lamp and blessed those she encounters with friendship and a square meal. She has stood beside the golden door and fed the wretched refuse from the teeming shores of the riverbeds.

My friend, Marcia, is a good listener.  No, let me say that better.  She’s a world-class listener.  She doesn’t just listen to you, but she listens to you with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes.  She listens with intent and purpose, all the while sending you a message that she sees you from the inside out.  Seventy-three years of life have not lessened the sparkle in the eyes of this woman who was widowed a few years ago.

That’s how I found her when I met with her on Sunday afternoon.  I found her sparkling and listening once again, but I hadn’t come there for my own edification, but rather to get her to talk.  I needed to hear about her and what she’s been doing.  I also needed to know how she does it.

Of course, Marcia will tell you that it’s just the people that God places there, but everywhere she goes, people are crossing her path.  Lately, she’s been crossing paths with the “least of these,” as she put it.  She’s been crossing paths with the homeless.  I had come out Sunday afternoon to find out her secret about how she connects with so many people.

So, how does she connect?  She starts by noticing.  That’s how it started when she first noticed her new friend, a nineteen-year-old runaway escaping from a split family with drug problems on both sides and sexual abuse in her history, a girl who cuts herself to stop the pain inside her mind.  She noticed the young girl walking down the boardwalk crying, so she stopped.  She stopped and asked about the problem, only to find out that the girl was upset because her boyfriend had left her and taken her backpack with him.  They lived in the river bed.

Then, she offered to take her for a meal.  It was something she’s done a few times before.  She would notice someone, ask if they were hungry, and rather than give them money would offer to take them for a meal.  So, she asked her young friend, but the girl hesitated.  “I’m not very clean,” she said.

“I don’t care,” Marcia said, and she and the girl found a place to sit down, eat a meal, and talk.  That’s when the magic begins to happen.  Everyone has a story and people are pretty open about telling their own no matter how dark.  Marcia will ask a lot of questions that will lead you into your story, and no matter how ugly or messy, she makes you feel like you are safe to tell it.  I imagine that’s what happened with this young runaway during that first lunch, but Marcia didn’t let it dwindle into a one-time thing.  She grew it to more than one meal.

One day, Marcia asked her what she needed from her.   “A relationship,” the girl said, and she went on to explain that most homeless don’t trust anyone and that a relationship is something that’s difficult to find.  She cherished her newfound friendship with Marcia.

That doesn’t mean that my friend, Marcia, is a pushover.  She tells her young friend the truth when things come up, and she talks about her faith with her as well.  “You’re pretty tough, aren’t you?” she asked one day.

“Yes,” Marcia replied, “Is that okay?”

“Yes, I think it’s what I need,” she replied.

This is how relationships start, but there is some risk involved.  We talked about the risk because right now Marcia’s friend is missing.  She hasn’t been able to get in touch with her for nearly a week, and she is worried about her.  She was just about to start a bible study with the young girl on a regular basis and the two had planned to go to church together, but she disappeared.  That’s the cost of risk, but we never really learn the power of our God until we take that risk.  As Marcia says, “You can’t know that God will catch you until you step off the ledge.”                 (to be continued)

I was just turned eighteen and performing at a bar called Stigg’s near my hometown for a contest called the Wrangler Country Showdown. From my vantage point behind the piano on stage, I couldn’t really see or hear anyone that I knew, but I will always remember the loudest hand claps emanating from the back of the room. The big sound came straight from the large, hard-working hands of my uncle Bud. Even when they replayed my song on the local radio station the next day, you could still hear those big hands clapping in the background. My uncle Bud always lifted me up that way.

Uncle Bud could make a person feel ten foot tall with his compliments. He always made me feel that way when he heard me sing. It’s amazing how much a positive word can heal a person’s heart. I struggled so much with my own self-identity during those difficult years. It seems like most of us get about half as many uplifting and encouraging words as we really need, and that’s a shame. That’s why someone who edifies and encourages, is so precious and so needed.

If all of us look backward into our own histories, we will recall the brief moments when someone made a great difference in our lives by a kind word. We will recall those people whose words of positive encouragement sent us along our way with a renewed sense of purpose and direction. Most all of us have those people in our history, but not all of us have grown up to be those kinds of people. It takes a certain kind of commitment to be a person who uses their words to edify. It takes intent and the ability to change our focus. I’ve been both kinds of people in my life, as I’m sure that all of us have, but to be a person who persistently edifies ultimately makes a difference in the lives of many, many others as well.

As in all matters of faith, there is always an additional reward in being a person who edifies. Being that kind of person changes our own perspective in life. We go from being a person who is thinking about his/herself to being one whose focus centers on others. We begin looking for the good in other people so that we can lift them up, rather than searching for something to tear others down for. It is a significant paradigm shift in thinking that benefits us as much as it benefits the receiver.

Take a moment and think of the most negative person you know, then contrast that person with the person who lifted you up and encouraged you the most in your life. When we are committed to edifying others, we grow the beauty in them.  Through our edification, they bloom and ultimately so do we.  We have enough weeds growing out there in the world, we need to start cultivating something beautiful instead.

Recently, I stood up for something that I really believed in.  I challenged something that I felt was wrong, and I lost the battle.  It does me no good to go on about the details of this event, but it was something that I really stuck my neck out on and because it meant a lot to me, I staged a battle.  I lost the war.  On the other side of this battle was a person who was victorious in it.  This person obviously believed just as strongly on the opposite front as me.  My anger burned.

Then, this same victor needed help.  The call went out for those who would give this person what they needed, and I had a choice.  I could quietly refuse and no one would ever know or I could give what I had to give.  I considered it.  Why should I give, I asked myself?  Why should I offer my grace to this person who wronged me?  Why should I care?  Who would know if I didn’t do anything?  Then, I remembered that I would know.  I would know that I was not a person of forgiveness.  I would know that I didn’t practice what I preach.  I would know.

So, without saying a word to anyone, I gave double what I would normally give.  I didn’t do it so that I could get a pat on the back from anyone because believe me, I am no saint in this issue.  Until today, I haven’t told anyone.  I did it because I knew that it was the right way to live, and I did it because I knew that it was hard for me to do it.  I gave twice as much because I wanted to tell myself that this life that I have chosen will mean nothing unless I am willing to go that extra mile.  I gave double because of my hesitation.

It’s always the hardest to love those who aren’t easy love, isn’t it?  The ones who wrong us and take advantage of us are the ones who are most difficult to give our grace to, and yet, those are probably the ones whom we should give it to the most.  Matthew 5:46 says, “For if you love those who love you, what reward have you?  Do not even tax collectors do the same?”

Just by giving double to this person doesn’t mean that I have miraculously forgive them.  I am far from finished with that process, but it did shed the light on an area that I needed to look at.  It made me realize that just saying I forgive someone or just saying that I’m moving on doesn’t mean that I have and it doesn’t necessarily mean that I can really show love to this person, either.  Tolerating someone I have a conflict with is one thing, but showing love to a person I don’t get along with is still pretty hard for me, I won’t lie to you.  But I have to get this thing right.  I have made a commitment to live a new way, the Kingdom lifestyle, and if I can’t release the grip that I have on my anger and sense of righteous justice then nothing has really changed in me.  I have to learn to love the unloveable.  I have to learn to give double to those who won’t appreciate it or won’t be grateful for it or won’t care anymore or less for me because of it.  After all, I haven’t always been so loveable myself, and still Jesus was able to love me.

Just a note to tell you what a great pleasure it was meeting you and  attending your DE seminar at St. Luke’s last week.  And what a beautiful post you wrote afterward about the experience on your website.

Quite frankly, I found the session to be a refreshing whop on the side of the head -  a veritable breath of fresh air.  After a lifetime of feeling guilty about not actively evangelizing in the Bible-thumping, preachy sense of the word, you helped release that pent-up guilt (and I might add, anger),  and I am forever grateful for that.  God bless the 10% of Christians that are gifted to evangelize in the classic sense; and thank God that the other 90% of us can do our part in a more subtle, down-to-earth way.  Both are effective.  Both are pleasing to the Lord.

BTW, I rented The Big Kahuna and thoroughly enjoyed it…a great study in character with lots of meaty insights.  We sincerely look forward to having you back to St. Luke’s for a deep-dive in DE.

All God’s richest blessings to you and your family,

~Ken Stevens

 

From Aristea Zekios:

I have attended many retreats, conferences, and presentations during my lifetime. Walking away I’d ask myself, “So how can I apply this to my every day Christian life?” And if I had no answer, I’d consider it a waste of time. And time is precious. I wish I had more of it! But “Doable Evangelism” was something useful; not just for me,
but for every Christian. I learned that we don’t need a theological degree or oratorical talent to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ. We can do what is ordinary and natural simply by noticing people, listening, caring, and praying. That’s what “Doable Evangelism” involves!

One of the points the speaker made was how to turn people off. As he mentioned this, I was thinking of all the persons I encountered who asked, “Are you saved?” Those three words were an immediate turnoff as the warning bell sounded in my ears. The speaker mentioned approaching others by simply asking, “How are you.” He emphasized that when we ask that question, we should stop and listen. We are to forget about our own agenda and the “I’s” and “me’s”. Instead steer the conversation around the other person. That’s not easy and
may take some practice. But it works when we genuinely care about the other person.

The speaker drew much of his presentation from the book called “Evangelism Without Additives” by Jim Henderson. Fortunately all of us from the adult Bible study class were given a copy. I highly recommend
reading this if you were unable to attend the talk. The book offers many suggestions for doable evangelism. One thought from this book stood out and struck my fancy.  When we attempt something small for God – something
ordinary- it becomes extraordinary. Now that’s something I can apply in my everyday Christian walk.

I think these men really got the point, don’t you?  ~Randy

 

 

The pastors, both bi-vocational, are bold evangelists in a tough urban setting, so when Jan asked for some help setting up the course and described the culture and history of the church, I was a little amazed that they would be interested in studying a new paradigm for evangelism. The leadership was willing, for whatever reason, to let her run with it. They ordered books, read them, ordered the rest of the materials, and went for it. They had 22 people sign up for the course, which was HUGE given the church runs about 100 a week or so.  About 14 finished the course, and I met with them for dinner and a showing of the entire “The Big Kahuna” movie (clips from this are part of the course). They shared stories about practicing ordinary attempts and what a difference this was making in their lives. Very encouraging. And a nice touch on Jan’s part to celebrate the course completion.

Last week I got another email from Jan about a “follow up meeting” they had after church (the first of a few, it sounds like…another stroke of genius on someone’s part). Here’s part of that email:

“Hey, we had our first follow-up meeting and the stories brought some of us to tears – tears of gratitude.  The testimony of changed lives, of watching how praying behind someones back works, the increased faith, the lack of pressure to perform, seeing Jesus as a friend – one who co-labors with us in this “doable” way of living and responding to others.  One guy said he didn’t’ think he’d get much out of this class, but he has learned the power in keeping his mouth shut and praying.  He says that personally he’s not so anxious all the time, he’s much more relaxed.  They really have been practicing.  There were stories about the penny prayers.  And, when the announcement was made about the follow-up meeting one of the Pastors in the church shared a very powerful lesson that he had learned – to connect, not correct.  He said that by nature he’s a corrector.  He can hardly stand it when people misuse and misinterpret Scripture.  However he’s building a relationship with a co-worker that is into a cultish type of religion, and he’s keeping his mouth shut and building the relationship.”

I’m so proud of Jan and the folks at her church for being willing to explore new ways of thinking and DOing evangelism. It’s getting a lot more of their people off the bench and into the game. It’s giving folks a new way to help people all around them connect with Jesus. And it could happen at your church, too. Just get yourself a copy of the DE Course and give it a run!

Growing up in a small, rural community means that your world view is very small, but it also means that your sense of community is often expanded because the number of familiars in your circle are wider and because of that, your sense of family is often extended, too.  This morning, I was thinking about the time that my mom had a serious medical emergency that put her in the hospital for a couple of weeks.  I think I was ten to eleven at the time, and I was pretty self-involved at the time.  At that time, I was thinking about how it affected me and not so much how it affected anyone else.  What I do remember, though, is the steady flow of home-cooked casseroles that came flooding into our household those two weeks.  I can imagine what a comfort it must have been to my father to have those casseroles coming into the house with five kids to feed and my mom laid up in the hospital.  I especially remember Mrs. Anderton’s homemade lasagna.  I still remember it to this day.  I don’t remember returning the pan, but I remember washing the dish that evening after we had consumed the entire thing.  I remember being grateful for it.

Now that I am a city dweller, I often feel a sense of isolation and I mourn the expanded community and sense of extended family that I was used to growing up in a community where everyone knew which family you belonged to.   It’s easy to find yourself isolated when your community is limited to just a few houses to the right or left of your house, and if someone on my street did fall ill, it’s likely that I would find out long after it was time to send a casserole along. Still, what I learned from growing up in a small town with a big sense of community is that getting to know our neighbors means that we risk.  We risk getting to know the good and bad side of them, and we risk letting them see the good and bad sides of us as well.  It’s that risk that makes our community broaden and expands our extended family members.  It’s how we build relationships and trust.

My dad loved to leave the front door open.  We would sit there in the living room with the front door wide open and watch television while the entire neighborhood passed by our front yard.  They would pass by and wave and we would casually wave right back, then they would move on with whatever animal they were walking.  Sometimes, they would remember something they wanted to tell us and they would linger and visit.  We would mute the TV for a few minutes as they stood on the front porch happily chatting.  It was a serious open door policy at our house.  We were so available back then.  Even the Jehovah Witnesses got invited in for a spell.

Nowadays, we build up our backyards to be our peaceful escape and it keeps us from being available to those within range.  It limits our community to only those who are invited, and that’s kind of a shame.  I want to stand out on the front porch once in a while and watch the dogwalkers go by, but I don’t have that kind of front yard.  I need a front porch.  I think we all need a front porch again.  I’m thinking about getting a lawn chair for my front yard this summer.  Maybe I will set it out front and lounge right there in the front yard with a cooler and see who strolls by in the evenings.  Maybe I’ll remember what it feels like to be available again both physically and philosophically.  Maybe community will expand and with it family, too.