As we roll into the weekend, there is so much to anticipate!
Gatherings with friends and family (bring on the ham!).
Scrambling to hunt eggs.
Reflecting during a Good Friday service.
And of course celebrating on Resurrection Sunday morning!
As you’re aiming to live in the flow of Jesus’ heart and loving mission, I bet you’re eager to focus your prayers. But how? How do we truly align our prayers with God’s heart on such a wondrous weekend?
I’ll suggest five sure-fire ways to engage in Jesus-like, others-oriented praying:
Pray for happiness.
People everywhere are saturated in grump and gloom. Let’s ask the Lord to supply from his deep well of joy this weekend. After all, we always say, “Merry Christmas!” And we say “Happy Easter!” Let’s give that kind sentiment some extra significance by praying with extra passion and purpose. We can ask Christ, who is the source of true happiness, to supply his abiding joy in lavish doses as we gather with others. Happiness is a wondrous common (or uncommon) grace, too oft in short supply. But it’s a grace Jesus will delight to gush our way from his overflow of joy. Let’s pray it’s truly a Happy Easter!
Pray for hope.
We can readily feel engulfed in negativity and cynicism. Circumstances dump regular doses of hopeless, death-like living. In big contrast, our King Jesus deals out serious hope. And so do we as his faithful followers. Call out for fresh perspective! Pray that we’ll fix our eyes with fresh vision—and for dozens of others to see and sense his transformative hope this Easter! Cry out for souls to be flooded with confident expectation of Jesus’ gracious good coming their way. The renewal of all things really is coming—because of his glorious resurrection. Really!
Pray for healing.
Our neighbors, coworkers, family, (each and every one of us, if we’re honest) are banged up, scarred, bruised, and broken. We feel broken in our frail bodies; our minds get riddled with anxious thoughts; people everywhere feel overwhelmed. God’s sacred text reminds us in both testaments that the Messiah’s torturous wounds bring genuine healing in all the ways we so desperately need healed (Isaiah 53:5 and 1 Peter 2:24). Pray for healing!
Pray for help.
Too many precious people feel desperately lonely. There’s something extremely empowering when you learn someone’s truly in your corner, got your back, and standing with you in helpful solidarity. All that and more come people’s way when they trust the Risen King—and his helpful followers like you and me. The Holy Spirit, our Holy Helper, can rush in with his immense help. Let’s be praying that folks really sense they have such access to divine help!
Pray for hearts. Jesus’ Gospel is truly good news, through and through, true as true can be. After all, as Resurrected King, he is our wondrous hope, our help incarnate, and our deepest source of lasting happiness.
Let’s pray for hearts that are VERY receptive to the life-transforming good news. Boldly ask the Lord to stir hearts to say YES to Jesus’ merciful forgiveness, his gracious goodness, and his ultimate joy for now and all eternity!
Let’s pray! Let’s rejoice. And have a very Happy Easter!
This is a re-post, originally shared in September, 2019. ENJOY!
My first official workplace—the kind that rendered a pay stub—was in eleventh grade after school at Woolworths Department Store. Each evening, my sundry task list included hauling heavy, sloppy trash bags from the old-fashioned lunch counter. The bag’s construction was less than hefty. They frequently burst open, leaving debris and grease across the tile floor. My capacity to grumble grew strong. (In retrospect, those wimpy trash bags meant job security!) Within a few short weeks, I hated my job.
I never thought of anything I did at Woolworth’s as accomplishing anything truly good. I was certain such labor was far from heavenly. My perspective was: “This work stinks!” (And many nights, it literally did because of the volume of trash.) I also thought, “This is certainly not God’s ideal for me or anyone else. It must be all part of the curse that results from sin.” In slightly brighter moments, I was inspired by the realization: “This stinking job is a way to buy preppy clothes (queue the 80s music) plus juicy cheeseburgers after basketball games.”
Looking back on that first job, I wish I had grasped at least one or two heavenly threads about our human labor. Through contemplating the beautiful biblical story, we discover there truly is heavenly good in our earthly labor! Five story threads summarize and potentially motivate us for God-honoring earthly work.
First, there’s genius in CREATION.
The genesis of our work was an integral part of God’s masterpiece (Gen 1:26-28; 2:15). Made in his image, humans were called to rule and reign, to work the garden. This elevates God’s original plans for our human labors to a place of prominence and genuine creative genius. There is something so significant and wonderfully sacred about getting our hands dirty and deliberately designing goods and services with excellent creativity in mind. However, there is the unmistakable thread of
Desperate FRUSTRATION
The sweat, fatigue, and brokenness of our work arrived with the Fall (Gen 3:17-19). We see the results in everyday ways. Grabbing a cup of coffee at McDonald’s, I encountered a cashier who was experiencing her first day of training. Her trainer was being extra hard on her, and I could tell the newbie was extremely nervous. She fumbled at first to make change, and then she got it right. As I thanked her and told her “great job,” she beamed. The seasoned trainer softened and walked away. The new cashier proceeded to tell me more of her story of previous job loss. Our three-minute interchange was a micro-replay, reminding me of the frustration we all experience everyday as a result of the Fall.
When we pause to ponder, we must admit we each have days we despise—okay, probably “hate”— our jobs? We grow discouraged. Often, we drag our heals and sputter in our motivation. In The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien’s beloved character Sam Gamgee wisely recalled: “It’s the job that’s never started as takes longest to finish.” Work frustration is all-too-familiar in our sin-cursed world. It’s crucial we not simply stop in our frustration, shrug, and assume we cannot experience anything better. Here’s where we need to encounter another vital thread.
Loving REDEMPTION
Our loving God set a plan in motion to redeem us from our sinful, fallen condition. This includes all Creation AND our work (Gen 3:15; 12:3; 1 Cor 15:57-58). Christ’s incarnation, his own labors, his teaching, his miracles, his death, resurrection, ascension, and empowerment all paved the way for us to know forgiveness and victory over sin. And because of his gracious work, we can approach our daily work as redeemed rhythms of daily worship (Ps 8:3-8; Rom 12:1-2). And there’s a fourth story thread:
Ultimate RESTORATION
The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are unfolding the culmination of the redemption plan. New Heavens and New Earth are coming. Such cosmic restoration will renew all Creation, and in surprising ways that includes our WORK (Rev 21-22; Isa 65:17, 21-23; Rom 8).
Author Darrell Cosden stretches us to think even bigger about the scope of Christ’s gracious salvation and restoration. Commenting about Paul’s teaching in Romans 8, Cosden boldly suggests:
Creation’s salvation hope, then, its “liberation” (vs. 21), is that it will be brought or ushered “in us” into our own glory, which is our physical resurrection “in Christ.” Since nature co-inheres “in us,” our salvation and glorification become creation’s own salvation and glory. That this salvation of the natural world includes our work follows logically. Work, which has further shaped nature, is now just as much a part of nature as what God made originally. Unless we want to understand work itself to be “un-natural,” a result of the curse . . . we must conclude from this biblical material that our work experiences salvation along with us.
Percolate and ponder that idea. Our ultimate resurrection will come to us in Christ, and the creation’s glorification will also come. In some unique way, this may also include our work as co-creators with God.
We might be tempted to think, “Yea, yea, yea, SOMEDAY.” But in reality, this isn’t just for someday.
Right now, there’s heavenly good in our earthly work. We experience kingdom foretastes with TRANSFORMATION. Earthly work carries good value now in deeply personal, inter-personal, and even socio-cultural transformation. In Ephesians 2:8-10, Paul urges us to recognize how God’s gracious, saving work results in our good works. Flowing from grace, they are masterful works which God planned in advance for us to accomplish. In Colossians 3:23-24, Paul motivates us to pursue our daily labors with all our hearts, as working for the Lord, fully realizing we serve the Lord Christ.
Four questions might prompt us to see the heavenly good in our earthly work:
Q1: What do you really enjoy about your daily labor?
Q2: How do you seek to intentionally integrate your faith with your everyday tasks?
Q3: What’s most frustrating, and how do you find encouragement for your labors?
Q4: How do you see your daily work carrying heavenly, eternal impact?
Because of God’s gracious, grand story, there truly is heavenly good in our earthly labor. O how I wish I had known that all those years ago, slogging through the trash bags at Woolworths.
I’ve grabbed for Kleenex this week. In the wake of the Ukrainian-Russian war, I’ve felt such a fumble-jumble deep in my soul. My gut has wrenched. My deeper thoughts and reflections have churned. With the constant barrage of breaking news, tears have streamed my cheeks. Those closest to me know; I don’t cry easily.
Why? Why so moved? Why now? Sadly, war is a regular occurrence in our sin-cursed, groaning world. In my lifetime, I’ve seen the nations rage way too often. Division, animosity, and violence are as old as earliest strokes of Holy Writ (Gen 3-4). I’ve been alive for Vietnam, Rwandan genocide, Desert Storm, the Iraqi War, and Afghanistan to name a few. Why so much of a stir in my soul in this unique hour?
Perhaps because it’s an escalation in Europe. The continent has not experienced such aggression or so many people fleeing for their lives since World War 2. I’m in tears again.
Perhaps because so many friends and family, near and dear, have connections to precious people in both Ukraine and Russia. Our family and church friends have meaningful relationships, historic involvement, and long-standing ties. We feel extra-deeply in such upheaval.
And perhaps my own bigger stirrings are born of a culmination of personal conundrum. As a Christ-follower, a citizen of his kingdom, I highly value peace. Yes, I am a pacifist. Though I’ve been a Christian since I heard his call and made my salvation decision at an early age, I would not have always identified myself as a lover of peace. My rich and meaningful Baptistic heritage did not always emphasize this value. Baptist friends and family said they were for peace, but we were quicker to join with aggressive armed forces.
Twenty plus years ago, I joined and began spiritual leadership in the Brethren in Christ. Here’s a wonderful group holding many of the thick theological threads of my Baptist background, but with a passionate Jesus-kingdom focus, understanding of personal responsibility in free will, wrapped in Sovereign calling, plus a call to non-violence with one’s enemies (Matt 5). Our priority on Christo-centric, missional interpretation means we take his kingdom teaching very seriously.
At least most of the time. Sort of. Kind of. Maybe.
I think right here is the crux of my soul-stirring and tears. As a Baptistic-Brethren-Wesleyan boy, I still read my whole Bible. We are people of the Book. Our Holy Book teaches us to value life from the cradle to the grave, from the womb to the tomb. So, that stirs questions. Is it right to fold my hands in prayer, sit idly, and let brothers and sisters in a place like Ukraine be obliterated? Yes, I pray for angel armies, but what if God desires for good people to angelically stand for what is right and true in the face of what’s diabolically evil, treacherous, and destructive?
My thoughts are spinning. My stomach churns. I do not want my sons and daughters or yours to mobilize for war. No, oh no. God forbid. And yet, I recognize what has sovereignly transpired at other pivotal moments in history, like the Great War and World War 2.
While Christ gave a clarion call to peace, his spiritual interaction with Roman military leaders during his life and ministry did not include an insistence on leaving their ranks or abandoning their role as protectors and defenders. He emphasized other vital points of discipleship with such officials.
Some of you quickly resonate with my tangle of values in the face of global atrocities. Some of you will quickly grab for your theological and philosophical swords. Amidst my tears, I’m simply reflecting my current gut stirrings. Across the years, behind closed doors, in whispered voices and honest theological reflection, I have found that most committed pacifist leaders still wrestle with such questions.
Fact. Few if any say they would just let an enemy attack their wife and children if their house was invaded. Few if any really believe we should have no police or soldiers to protect, to keep order, and to defend. I’ve never met an honest, present-day pacifist who really wants a defenseless community or nation. We just want someone else to do the dirty work.
And yet, if we take Jesus seriously, his kingdom call is for kingdom people who do not punch back. People who do not rush to take up arms and fire away. Jesus’ people do not play Rock ‘Em, Sock ‘Em. Instead, we work to resolve conflict via calm hearts and minds. We pray for angel armies. We aim to de-escalate, to talk peaceably, and pursue non-violent means of settling differences.
Yes, right here is the likely source of my jumbled feelings, the grand conundrum of my soul and streaming tears. Where does a Christ-follower go with such feelings? These days I am drawn into the Psalms as a place to reflect in my peace-loving, justice-seeking jumbled heart. Specifically, the Imprecatory Psalms. Yes, those really raw and ugly places in the Book. The emotive ones where the psalmist cries out in the face of evil and evil people. The ones where people praise and implore the Sovereign King to grind the evil ones’ teeth in the gravel or dash their babies on the rocks (Psalm 2:9; 3:7; 58:6). Such severe places really are part of the Book and at times involve the holy character of a loving, holy, righteous, and just God.
But notice who carries out such action when needed. The LORD God. The King. Vengeance is his (Deut 32; Rom 12). I’m very aware that God often uses humans, but he also employs his angels, those spiritual forces that wage war above the human fray.
As a Baptistic Brethren Wesleyan pacifist, I’m praying more Imprecatory Psalms. As I do, I am finding peace more moments now. I’m trusting the loving, mighty, strong Holy Son who is capable of fighting our battles—and the Ukrainian’s battles—far better than we can. And now I’m grabbing for another box of Kleenex.
Streaming tears. Yes, I will own them. Each time I’ve watched Wonder—the movie based on R.J. Palacio’s award-winning novel—I’ve been ambushed by this oh-so-moving story.
Born with a genetic disorder, Auggie’s little body required multiple surgeries. He wears his astronaut helmet because his face is distorted, even after plastic surgery. Auggie and his loving family live in Brooklyn. Originally taught at home, he’s finally sent to school in fifth grade. With helmet off, Auggie faces the full range of staring, pity, mockery, and bullying by kids. This amazing story traces Auggie’s school year, along with his parents, his sister Via, and his struggling friend Jack Will. We encounter stunning twists and turns revealing how people see Auggie and how Auggie sees everyone else.
The bulk of my daily work involves seeing and serving suffering people, deeply in need of help. If you ponder your own projects and tasks, you’ll likely conclude that’s true for most of us. From financial planners to nurses and doctors, school teachers to store clerks, automotive technicians, physical therapists and pastors, we major in helping all sorts of people. Precious people with very special needs, capabilities, disabilities, heartaches, hang-ups, hopes, and dreams.
Many days, our most pressing question becomes:
How will I see the person or group of people in my path? Will I see people more deeply, beyond my face-value, knee-jerk reaction?
The local church where I serve as lead pastor aims to love others with Christ-style love. Our aim is based on Jesus’ holistic call to love God with all we are and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves (Matthew 22:37-40). That means our planning and behind-the-scenes efforts often involve strategizing endeavors for people who are experiencing physical, emotional, financial, spiritual, and mental suffering. Then our very public, weekly events, gatherings, and services include active interface with those precious people.
Every Sunday, a host of people greet me, including multiple individuals with special needs, pressing health crises, and emotional distress. They long for encouragement, a listening ear, affirmation, prayer, a dose of genuine good news, directional wisdom, and practical help. I am regularly challenged with this foundational attitude choice: Will I see them as too different, unique, other and awkward? Will I glance their way, feel uncomfortable, and say to myself, “Yikes! Let’s move along now. Look away. Let’s shift focus to the ‘normal’ and ‘beautiful’ people!” OR will I truly and deeply see the precious people in my path?
During Auggie’s wonder story, especially poignant are the moments in Mr. Browne’s homeroom. This oh-so-wise teacher places a monthly precept on the board. September’s is:
“When given the choice between being right and being kind, choose kind.”
In Palacio’s book, Mr. Browne’s May precept is from John Wesley: “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as you ever can.”
Masterfully and subtly, Wonder’s screenplay writers wove the issue of how characters truly see one another all throughout the film. Auggie’s potential new friend, Jack Will, struggles with peer pressure from other boys who don’t want to hang out with Auggie. Jack vacillates between befriending him and bullying him like the other kids do. Eventually, Jack reveals his own true feelings about Auggie: “You get used to his face . . . He’s really good at science, and I really do want to be his friend.”
Mr. Tushman, the seasoned school principal, says something so stunning during his office confrontation with the bully Julian and his haughty parents. He challenges them: “Auggie can’t change the way he looks. Maybe we can change the way we see.”
A wrap-up concept near the movie’s end nails it:
“If you really want to see who people are, all you have to do is look.”
How do you see people with whom you work? Your clients, coworkers, and employees, especially those who are suffering or just different in light of their disabilities and special needs? I am moved by the divine work of seeing people, really seeing them. At the biblical culmination of creation, right after God crafts humans, we read:
“God saw all that he had made, and it was very good” (Genesis 1:31a).
Scene after scene during Jesus’ ministry here on earth, we read:
“When Jesus saw __________ . . .” (Matthew 5:1, 8:14, 9:22, 14:14 plus numerous others).
When Jesus saw all sorts of people with all sorts of needs, the result was always some deliberate action, instruction, or other form of loving service in response. All because of seeing people via deeper outlook.
Let’s slow our steps, fix our gaze, and savor conversation. Let’s ask better questions, hear people’s stories, and gush kind affirmation. Folks are full of hopes, hurts, special needs, and yes, setbacks, missteps, mistakes, struggles, and heartache. But they also possess such powerful potential to display wondrous love and real joy. As we really see people, we’ll recognize more of God’s image and what a wonder people truly are.
O how I need greater doses of divine sight for all my interaction with others. Let’s see each person we encounter with fresh wonder this week!
My first official workplace—the kind that rendered a pay stub—was in eleventh grade after school at Woolworths Department Store. Each evening, my sundry task list included hauling heavy, sloppy trash bags from the old-fashioned lunch counter. The bag’s construction was less than hefty. They frequently burst open, leaving debris and grease across the tile floor. My capacity to grumble grew strong. (In retrospect, those wimpy trash bags meant job security!) Within a few short weeks, I hated my job.
I never thought of anything I did at Woolworth’s as accomplishing anything truly good. I was certain such labor was far from heavenly. My perspective was: “This work stinks!” (And many nights, it literally did because of the volume of trash.) I also thought, “This is certainly not God’s ideal for me or anyone else. It must be all part of the curse that results from sin.” In slightly brighter moments, I was inspired by the realization: “This stinking job is a way to buy preppy clothes (queue the 80s music) plus juicy cheeseburgers after basketball games.”
Looking back on that first job, I wish I had grasped at least one or two heavenly threads about our human labor. Through contemplating the beautiful biblical story, we discover there truly is heavenly good in our earthly labor! Five story threads summarize and potentially motivate us for God-honoring earthly work.
First, there’s genius in CREATION.
The genesis of our work was an integral part of God’s masterpiece (Gen 1:26-28; 2:15). Made in his image, humans were called to rule and reign, to work the garden. This elevates God’s original plans for our human labors to a place of prominence and genuine creative genius. There is something so significant and wonderfully sacred about getting our hands dirty and deliberately designing goods and services with excellent creativity in mind. However, there is the unmistakable thread of
Desperate FRUSTRATION
The sweat, fatigue, and brokenness of our work arrived with the Fall (Gen 3:17-19). We see the results in everyday ways. Grabbing a cup of coffee at McDonald’s, I encountered a cashier who was experiencing her first day of training. Her trainer was being extra hard on her, and I could tell the newbie was extremely nervous. She fumbled at first to make change, and then she got it right. As I thanked her and told her “great job,” she beamed. The seasoned trainer softened and walked away. The new cashier proceeded to tell me more of her story of previous job loss. Our three-minute interchange was a micro-replay, reminding me of the frustration we all experience everyday as a result of the Fall.
When we pause to ponder, we must admit we each have days we despise—okay, probably “hate”— our jobs? We grow discouraged. Often, we drag our heals and sputter in our motivation. In The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien’s beloved character Sam Gamgee wisely recalled: “It’s the job that’s never started as takes longest to finish.” Work frustration is all-too-familiar in our sin-cursed world. It’s crucial we not simply stop in our frustration, shrug, and assume we cannot experience anything better. Here’s where we need to encounter another vital thread.
Loving REDEMPTION
Our loving God set a plan in motion to redeem us from our sinful, fallen condition. This includes all Creation AND our work (Gen 3:15; 12:3; 1 Cor 15:57-58). Christ’s incarnation, his own labors, his teaching, his miracles, his death, resurrection, ascension, and empowerment all paved the way for us to know forgiveness and victory over sin. And because of his gracious work, we can approach our daily work as redeemed rhythms of daily worship (Ps 8:3-8; Rom 12:1-2). And there’s a fourth story thread:
Ultimate RESTORATION
The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are unfolding the culmination of the redemption plan. New Heavens and New Earth are coming. Such cosmic restoration will renew all Creation, and in surprising ways that includes our WORK (Rev 21-22; Isa 65:17, 21-23; Rom 8).
Author Darrell Cosden stretches us to think even bigger about the scope of Christ’s gracious salvation and restoration. Commenting about Paul’s teaching in Romans 8, Cosden boldly suggests:
Creation’s salvation hope, then, its “liberation” (vs. 21), is that it will be brought or ushered “in us” into our own glory, which is our physical resurrection “in Christ.” Since nature co-inheres “in us,” our salvation and glorification become creation’s own salvation and glory. That this salvation of the natural world includes our work follows logically. Work, which has further shaped nature, is now just as much a part of nature as what God made originally. Unless we want to understand work itself to be “un-natural,” a result of the curse . . . we must conclude from this biblical material that our work experiences salvation along with us.
Percolate and ponder that idea. Our ultimate resurrection will come to us in Christ, and the creation’s glorification will also come. In some unique way, this may also include our work as co-creators with God.
We might be tempted to think, “Yea, yea, yea, SOMEDAY.” But in reality, this isn’t just for someday.
Right now, there’s heavenly good in our earthly work. We experience kingdom foretastes with TRANSFORMATION. Earthly work carries good value now in deeply personal, inter-personal, and even socio-cultural transformation. In Ephesians 2:8-10, Paul urges us to recognize how God’s gracious, saving work results in our good works. Flowing from grace, they are masterful works which God planned in advance for us to accomplish. In Colossians 3:23-24, Paul motivates us to pursue our daily labors with all our hearts, as working for the Lord, fully realizing we serve the Lord Christ.
Four questions might prompt us to see the heavenly good in our earthly work:
Q1: What do you really enjoy about your daily labor?
Q2: How do you seek to intentionally integrate your faith with your everyday tasks?
Q3: What’s most frustrating, and how do you find encouragement for your labors?
Q4: How do you see your daily work carrying heavenly, eternal impact?
Because of God’s gracious, grand story, there truly is heavenly good in our earthly labor. O how I wish I had known that all those years ago, slogging through the trash bags at Woolworths.
Throughout the years, I’ve noticed a mischievous thing about Labor Day weekend. If I’m not careful, I miss it. I can get so caught up in the sensational hoopla of picnics, yard work, or a last-hurrah-of-summer getaway that I mindlessly skip over this holiday’s true significance.
Might we dare to think, stir, and move a step or two deeper this year on the meaning and opportunity of Labor Day weekend?
Originally, Labor Day was so much more than a calendar marker for wrap-up of summer, the pool’s closing, and launch of all things flavored pumpkin spice. Call for such a day was the creation of the labor movement and dedicated to recognize the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well being of our country. The first state bill for Labor Day was introduced into the New York legislature, but the first to become law was passed by Oregon on February 21, 1887. During that year four more states—Colorado, Massachusetts, New Jersey, and New York—created the Labor Day holiday by legislative enactment. By the end of the decade Connecticut, Nebraska, and Pennsylvania had followed suit. By 1894, 23 other states had adopted the holiday in honor of workers, and on June 28 of that year, Congress passed an act making the first Monday in September of each year a legal holiday in DC and the territories.
I’m afraid we too often forget just how meaningful and significant our daily work is in the scope of God’s original call to humans (Genesis 1-2) and his ongoing redemptive plans (Ephesians 2:8-10). For disciples of Jesus who are seeking to actively grow in holistic faith, there’s a thought-provoking, responsive prayer, originally penned by Jim Cotter and Paul Payton.[1] If we dare to pray this prayer, it might just refocus our outlook and help guide us into an even more robust, holistic perspective on the vital role our work plays in God’s great work in this world. It goes like this:
Leader: Let the sowers of seed bless you, great God, the gardeners and farmers sing your praise.
Everyone: May the fishers and foresters bless you, Beloved, praise your name and glorify you forever.
Leader: Let the bread from grain bless you, great God, the wine from the grape sing your praise.
Everyone: May the transformations from cooks bless you, Beloved, praise your name and glorify you forever.
Leader: Let the spinners and weavers bless you, great God, the designers of clothes sing your praise.
Everyone: May the salesmen and retailers bless you, Beloved, praise your name and glorify you forever.
Leader: Let the sounds and silences of music bless you, great God, the great composers sing your praise.
Everyone: May the improvisers of jazz bless you, Beloved, praise your name and glorify you forever.
Leader: Let the software and civil engineers bless you, great God, the architects sing your praise.
Everyone: May the pastors and clergy bless you, Beloved, praise your name and glorify you forever.
Leader: Let the marketers and advertisers bless you, great God, the entrepreneurs sing your praise.
Everyone: May the attorneys and judges bless you, Beloved, praise your name and glorify you forever.
Leader: Let the educators bless you, great God, the academics and authors sing your praise.
Everyone: May the doctors and nurses bless you, Beloved, praise your name and glorify you forever.
Leader: Let the sculptor and scientists bless you, great God, the business owners and janitors sing your praise.
Everyone: May the artists and baristas bless you, Beloved, praise your name and glorify you forever.
Amen.
We’ve prayed this congregational, responsive prayer in our church’s worship services. Might you dare to pray it personally, share it with friends, and even potentially share it in your congregation?
[1]Jim Cotter and Paul Payton. Out of the Silence . . . Prayer’s Daily Round (with changes by Mark Mohrlang and adapted here for congregational responsive prayer).
With four drivers in our family, we delayed the extra purchase as long as possible. Finally, I caved into the impassioned teenager pleas. We purchased the third vehicle. It’s used, an oldie but a goodie. We were barely off the car lot before our firstborn was declaring his aim to improve the look of the wheels with new hubcaps.
Our quest for the right new look began online, but we soon found ourselves saying, “’Just wish we could really see and feel what we’re getting before we buy.” In the midst of our hunt, I discovered the Hubcap Barn in Manheim, PA. It’s less than five miles away. Placing a phone call, I was immediately wowed by the personalized interaction and quick mental recall of inventory. Later that afternoon, my son and I were climbing the barn steps and picking out four original, matching hubcaps. We got a great deal including details about how to make them shine. As we drove away, I reflected. “There’s something so unique about buying local, a tangible intangible you just can’t get when buying online.”
I’m struck once again with the realization that Jesus’ own business approach was very local. As the God-Man, he certainly had the wherewithal to make his carpentry business much bigger, even global had he desired such an instantaneous reach. Instead, “the Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood” (John 1:14, MSG). Jesus’ down-to-earth incarnation included his work-a-day business.
After the formal start of his Messianic ministry, he returned to his hometown as guest speaker at the local meeting place. The townsfolk first praised him but then scoffed. “He’s just a carpenter . . . “ (Mark 6:3). Such critique serves as sturdy evidence. Jesus was well known by the locals as the neighborhood carpenter way before he was recognized as the traveling preacher and miracle-worker.
With our current-day buzz about “being the church” in our communities and living more missional and incarnational, how deliberately diligent are we in cultivating local business that’s God-glorifying? Do we more intentionally shop local businesses with the aim of fostering relationships, stimulating the local economy, and sharing gospel witness for the glory of God?
My life is enriched and our local region is oh-so-blessed because of places like Hearts and Minds Bookstore in Dallastown, PA. (Yes, owners Byron and Beth Borger are oh-so-kind to carry my books!) The Borough of Columbia is much stronger because of a great place like Café 301 (301 Locust Street, Columbia PA).
Pies Galore and More, owned and operated by Donna and John Alexander, has been serving up delectable pies for years now. Our local community is much sweeter because of such Christ-honoring business impact!
Vintage & Co. is a fantastic shop on Marietta Ave, Lancaster. Shoppers encounter marvelous antiques, refinished tables, Country Chic paint, and all sorts of wonderful treasures of yesteryear.
Zack Erswine winsomely reminds us: “In order to follow Jesus we have to go through a carpenter’s shop in Nazareth” (The Imperfect Pastor, 2015). I am grateful for Jesus’ down-to-earth, close-to-home, person-to-person business practices. And I’m motivated in fresh ways to applaud, frequent, and encourage local business for the sake of God’s kingdom. Here is an especially wonderful perspective and practice to carry into Christmastime.
Yes, Jesus’ great commission takes us global, but I am also praying we follow in Jesus’ local missional steps with even greater frequency and passion.
Are you feeling foggy, stuck in the daily quagmire of down-in-the-weeds decisions as a leader?
In Uncharted Leadership, Angie Ward explains the key behaviors of adaptive leaders. First on the list, she urges:
Get on the balcony. It can be easy for leaders to lose sight of the big picture because we have gotten caught up in the action on the ground. But adaptive leadership requires a mix of action and reflection, much like the difference between being part of a dance versus watching the patterns on the dance floor from a higher perch. An effective adaptive leader will be able to move back and forth between views.
My own low-view frustration
Mid-January of this year, I had an especially bustling, frazzling week. Multiple meetings carried thick content and heavy conversations. I felt stuck. Very few interactions proved enlightening, easy, or carefree. I had one of those weeks when every relational interaction and task proved to feel more than a bit puzzling. Each day produced more questions, conundrums, and unsettled decisions.
It probably should not have surprised me. Over the years, I’ve sensed my perspective often gets fuzzier, more blurry right before the view sharpens. At the very start of the year, I was moved to pursue Jesus-like wisdom for the year’s challenges and directions. So, I prayed as I pondered:
How should our team best collaborate for the year’s key endeavors?
What should be our path for vision fulfillment?
How will we assemble a truly thoughtful strategy?
When is best to execute next steps?
Who do we really need at the table for next pivotal, winning conversations?
Extremely early on a Friday morning, I was headed home from a quick two-day conference in Des Moines. I boarded my 6 a.m. flight to depart. It was a gray, cloudy sky. In many ways, the morning scenery and temps matched my own outlook. Foggy. Puzzling. Challenging to see through and discern the way. I could not help but think how good it would be to get out of deep-freeze Des Moines.
Our draped-in-darkness plane was only half full, so I started out sitting in a sweet aisle seat. To my delight, no one sat in my row. Score! Plenty of leg space and elbow room. Like my other start-of-the-year mornings, I had begun opening moments of my day with fumbling, quick, reflective prayer. “Lord, help me see more clearly.” I had asked God’s Spirit to grant me Christ-like wisdom, power, and fresh anointing to do good (Acts 10:38).
But now a few hours later, as we approached thirty thousand feet, my head was down. I found my heart and mind flooded again with the fogginess of my week’s meetings, dizzying content from the conference, and further personal puzzlement over pressing questions. What should be those next steps? I was sipping a hot coffee I’d purchased before boarding, but I was still feeling very groggy from my 3 a.m. wake-up. My head was hanging.
Then I looked toward the far seat. Glancing through the window, I was drawn to shift over and look out. “Oh wow! What a wondrous new view.” We were now gliding across a carpet of clouds, and a thick line of glowing sun was starting to peak just above them. It was stunning to behold.
And right there, my download of clarity commenced. For the next several minutes, my heart and mind were flooded with fresh, clear, crisp ideas to meet my challenging conundrums. I grabbed my journal and pen. What flowed from pen to page was definitive, stunning, and joyously confidence-building. I gained:
Core concepts for upcoming teaching content.
Clear focus for developmental endeavors with our leaders.
A colorful collage of essential training to offer.
Faces and names of great people to include.
Even probable times and locations for certain events.
Wisdom from above
Perhaps you call it being in the flow or gaining an epiphany. I can say with certainty, the LORD answered my earlier-morning prayer. My need for fresh wisdom, anointing, and powerful insight was being met with his rich resources. I was so grateful. Those amazing moments calmed my heart, set the stage for the new year, and steadied my pace for multiple meetings, brainstorming conversations, presentations, and think-tank sessions with others in the weeks to come.
In our quest for leadership clarity, I believe this is one sweet outcome of following the Apostle Paul’s injunction: “If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth” (Col. 3:1-2). Classic words of wisdom urge us: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil” (Prov. 3:5-7).
Three Perspective Prompters
How have you personally made space in the past to climb higher and get fresh perspective?
What leadership issues have you feeling stuck, slogging too low in perspective right now?
What will you do this week to climb higher in your view and seek the Lord’s wisdom?
Yes, it’s a hotly contested topic. Sadly, people often choose to squabble and even disassociate with those who hold a different view.
These are two exceptional resources, written by solid thinkers in different camps. Both are helpful in grappling with the theological nuances and practical implications.
I’m so grateful to serve and interact during this season with so many leaders who are courageous to see God’s whole story, to be faithful to God’s Word and big-hearted to see Christ’s historical, global work through both men and women. My own life is indelibly marked by the gospel impact of women in key leading and teaching roles.
Yes, context and culture are crucial keys in discerning. Both Jesus and Paul modeled such necessary nuances.
‘Praying that we’ll all celebrate with joy as men and women round the globe proclaim and lead in the name and power of King Jesus. Atlantic Conference: Brethren in Christ, U.S. #Blessed #MaleAndFemale #LeadWell #Gospel #ImagoDei
Wondrously, the morning’s news about the Queen overshadowed the too-typical avalanche of bad news that has ransacked our screens in recent weeks. All eyes were on Buckingham Palace and Elizabeth II’s big celebration. When you consider her personal affliction and heartbreaking loss in recent years, such a week of commemoration is extra splendid.
All the clamor is a fresh reminder of our infatuation with the Crown. And once again, I pause to wonder why. No doubt we’re impressed by the glitz, glamor, and spectacular festivities, but I think there’s something more, something deeper, perhaps even something primal that draws us into the royals’ story.
The earliest royals
Many biblical scholars see Adam and Eve, on the early pages of Genesis, as royals who offered their worship to God through their work in the sanctuary-garden. God’s intention for the original man and woman in the domain he designed was that they serve in his kingly likeness, reflecting his royal image (Gen. 1-2). This same language of serving and working arises in Isaiah’s servant prophecies, with strong implications for Israel’s collective work as a nation, the coming Messiah’s leading work, and the eventual servant-workers of God in the New Testament (Isa. 42:1-4; Matt. 12:18-21; Phil. 2:5-11).[1]
With its presentation of divine speech and masterful design, the text of Genesis 1 and 2 holds early clues into the kingly nature of God himself and the unfolding story of his kingdom. W. Lee Humphreys’ narrative analysis leads him to conclude:
While not specifically enthroned in a palace/temple specially built for him, the overall image of God in Genesis 1:1-2:4a is royal. God appears as a king – a monarch – whose words bring to pass, who orders the realm he rules . . . God is the absolute ruler of heaven and earth, shaping and governing a realm over and apart from which he stands. He commands, names, judges, and thereby shapes his realm.[2]
Hence, these opening scenes reveal God with royal character and kingly actions. The stage is set for his kingdom.
The creation of humans in the imago Dei, “male and female,” points to the unique relational capacity of human life and divine intention of interdependency. By extension, the image of God denotes humans’ ability to share in God’s relational life as Father, Son, and Spirit. This is hinted at in the foundational statement, “Let us make humans in our own image.” Further significance in the imago Dei can be seen in the New Testament usage of the phrase “image of God” in unique relation to Jesus Christ. His descriptions in Colossians 1:15, Hebrews 1:3, and Philippians 2:6 reveal Jesus as the best example of humanity, the true pattern of God’s attitudes and actions.[3]
Genesis’ story of humanity’s creation in the image of God includes the report that God blessed the man and woman. God had previously blessed the living creatures on the fifth day (Gen. 1:22), and now he blesses humans. The Hebrew term, bārak denotes an enduing with power for success, prosperity, and longevity, a blessing that confers abundant and effective living upon something or someone.[4] Introduction of this specific Hebrew word so early in the story is extremely significant to understanding a missional hermeneutic. It’s a specific way of reading and interpreting the biblical story as the kingly story of redemptive mission. The theme of blessing and variations of this term prove pivotal to God’s intentions with humanity across the biblical text (Gen. 12:1-3, Ps. 67, Matt. 5:1-12).[5] God’s ultimate intention to use his chosen people to bless the nations flows out of his own nature as presented in this initial story. As supreme King, he will use humans to craft, curate, and share kingly blessings that flow from his very likeness, his love, and his plans to restore the kingdom.
Reclaiming the fallen kingdom
Sadly, humanity’s fall in Genesis 3 brought devastating changes to God’s original royal design. The curse (Gen. 3:14-19) included significant new limitations and frustrations related to the everyday work of “ruling and reigning.” Our sin ushered in the ugly reality of death (Gen. 3:19) and expulsion from the Garden of Eden (Gen. 3:23-24).
As the biblical story continues, a dramatic theme emerges. God’s loving mission toward redemptive salvation for all his creation, including royal renewal. In fact, the whole biblical story from cover to cover is really a royal story of God’s passionate mission to redeem his fallen royals and the fallen kingdom. The King is out to save his kingdom, starting with the royal ones—those originally made in his kingly image.
So, what about royal work now? With salvation through Christ’s gracious cross, the empty grave, and our renewal in his image, Christians now engage in royal work for tangible expression of Jesus’ kingdom (Matt. 5:14-16; Eph. 2:8-10). Andy Crouch synthesizes the opportunity for believers seeking to find meaningful missional impact in our everyday endeavors:
Jesus had a profoundly cultural phrase for his mission: the Kingdom of God. It is hard to recapture the concept of kingdom in an age where monarchs are often no more than ornamental fixtures in their societies, if they exist at all. But for Jews of that time and place, the idea of a kingdom would have meant much more. In announcing that the Kingdom of God was near, in telling parables of the Kingdom, Jesus was not delivering “good news,” as if his only concern was to impart some new information. His good news foretold a comprehensive restructuring of social life comparable to that experienced by a people when one monarch was succeeded by another. The Kingdom of God would touch every sphere and every scale of culture. It would reshape marriage and mealtimes, resistance to the Roman occupiers and prayer in the temple, the social standing of prostitutes and the piety of the Pharisees, the meaning of cleanliness and the interpretation of illness, integrity in business and honesty in prayer.[6]
Through such kingdom-focused, intentional culture making, God is still writing his grand story.
Could our daily work really be royal work?
Christ-followers long to know that their whole lives, especially numerous hours at the daily grind, have genuine significance in the bigger story. God’s divine drama as presented across Scripture can serve as the guiding, motivating story for people’s personal meaning and all kingdom work. His story stretches from Genesis to Revelation, and the story continues today in and through the lives of Christians. It advances as growing disciples embrace the powerful opportunity to work as responsible citizens in His ever-advancing kingdom.
Additional royal highlights include Abram’s call in Genesis 12:1-3. With his call to the Father of faith, God supplied a gracious answer to humanity’s sin and subsequent descent (Gen. 3-11). With his charge to Abram to “be a blessing,” his reversal of the curse brought the salvation blessing “to all nations.”
The Kingdom of God is woven further throughout the grand story. Exodus 19:3-6 explains God’s intentions for the Israelites to play their unique role. They were to be “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” In like manner, the Apostle Peter calls Christ-followers to live their everyday lives as active priests in the kingdom (1 Pet. 2:9-21). And let it sink in. Such call includes us, today.
Climactic scenes in Revelation celebrate the work of Christians as a “kingdom and priests” composed of people “from every tribe and language and people and nation.” Such eschatological conclusions beautifully echo the sounds of Genesis 12:3 and Exodus 19:6. Rich colors in the biblical tapestry encourage present-day Christ-followers to not only enjoy the old story but also boldly play their own roles as missional priests in his kingdom today.
Icing on the royal cake? The Kingdom was Jesus’ central focus. His Sermon on the Mount supplies his core agenda for how his followers will think and act in a new kingdom culture (Matt. 5-7). How to seek and work within the Kingdom of Heaven serves as the master thought of most of Christ’s parables. Across the Gospels, Christ’s teaching and miracles supply profound perspective for how his followers should work responsibly as citizens in the kingdom. Twenty-first century disciples can still hear these stunning kingdom stories and be motivated to do good and faithful work for their Master.
Christ’s workers encounter deeper significance by distinguishing between their primary call (to discipleship) and their secondary call (to a certain role or career path). In order to grasp true purpose, one’s personal call and response to God must be given first priority. “Seek first His kingdom . . . and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matt. 6:33).
With such big buzz over the Queen’s jubilant celebration, I’m struck by these kingdom threads. I think the bigger reason we love the Crown is linked to our deep-inside, primal craving. We long to know our own “ruling and reigning” every day really matters. Present-day Christians find motivation in the concept that all God’s people can be engaged in work for the kingdom. That includes work every day outside church walls and palace walls. In God’s estimation, it’s not just the work of a literal royal, like Queen Elizabeth, or work performed by vocational church workers, like pastors, that is truly significant.
Daily work done by all of us in Christ’s name is the work of royals!
[3]Stephen R. Holmes, Image of God, in Dictionary for Theological Interpretation of the Bible, ed. Kevin J. Vanhoozer vol. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 318-19.
[5]John H. Sailhamer, The Pentateuch as Narrative: A Biblical-Theological Commentary, Library of Biblical Interpretation (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Publishing House, 1992), 96.
Is it possible to grow stronger in the troubling times? Enjoy this excerpt from my book, JOY & THRIVING.
Our eyes flooded with tears as we drove away from the doctor’s office. We felt overwhelmed. It was a chilly, gray, and windy November morning. Nanc’ and I had just learned that we were having a miscarriage. As we returned home, a storm was hovering over our region. We were devastated. How could life possibly feel any worse?
Pulling into our drive, the wind grew more severe. As we approached the house, we discovered that chunks of our roof were lifting and blowing off. I remember sitting in our bedroom, bawling together, and listening to the shingles fly from the top of our townhouse. It was one of those days when you wonder if someone secretly taped a “KICK ME” sign on your back. The winds of trouble had rolled into our lives with gale-force strength. It was ugly and crushing to our souls.
James says, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds . . .” (1:2). Notice, it’s not if. From James’ perspective, troubles are not a college elective you opt to take because you might have some casual interest. Here’s the harsh reality. They happen whenever. Troubles and trials are a very normal part of life.
Some translations say “various” trials. The word can also be translated “many-colored.” Troubles come your way in all shapes, sizes, and flavors. And “come your way” has an even more picturesque idea. Literally, the ancient language says, “when you fall into troubles.” Think of your car sliding off the road into snow or your tractor getting stuck in a muddy hole. Most of us know all too well what it feels like to fall into troubles.
We’ve got Trouble, with a capital T!
Pandemics, market meltdowns, and black holes of anxiety carry angst way beyond Professor Hill’s fabricated crises in The Music Man. Our own genuine capital T troubles should not really surprise us. Unfortunately, in our quest for carefree, always-happy, healthy-wealthy, and rose-colored lives, we get shocked every time trouble hits. It might help our overall world-and-life view to realize that troubles are part of the normal fabric of life. It’s as if James is saying: get used to it!
That’s not ultra-pessimism, just a dose of reality. Some systems of theology and versions of church popularize the notion that God only ever wants to bless your life with smooth sailing, tranquil waters, and endless happiness. “You just have to be spiritual enough, faith-filled enough, positive enough. Then all your dreams can come true.” Hearing what James teaches us is essential to a better understanding of genuine life and true faith in King Jesus.
Sadly, COVID-19 devastated lives in our local nursing homes. A dear and godly man from our church—immensely loved by his wife, children, and grandchildren—was among those stricken with the dreadful illness. In those weeks before he stepped into Jesus’ presence, none of his family were able to visit him. Goodbyes had to be said over the phone. It was tragic. I stood at the graveside with his precious family, overwhelmed with them in the realization. He was gone. Treacherous illness descended on this man and his family. It felt so unfair. He had lived an upstanding, generous, devoted life.
Such a twisted, cursed outcome never seems to add up, no matter how much we tap the calculator keys. James knew it too, and so did those early Christ-followers, “the twelve tribes scattered abroad.” They were facing the distance, persecution, famine, and opposition. How could a good and loving Father let such things happen?
James realized a vital truth we need to realize. Trials and troubles do come; there’s no escaping them. We cannot stop them. We can’t catch lucky breaks by doing a bunch of righteous deeds. You might think that would be ideal, but life has never really worked that way. Ours is still a sin-cursed world. We are still awaiting Christ’s glorious return and the ultimate renewal someday in his wondrous new kingdom. James challenges us, whenever trials come—and it’s inevitable, they will blow your way—we are to “count it all joy.”
Count it all joy? Really?!
Really? I know what you’re thinking. “You’ve got to be kidding! Count it all joy? That’s outrageous. Who in their right mind can rejoice over COVID-19 or a miscarriage?” And to make matters worse, the attitude James is calling for is not some flighty joy, like “good feels” born of happy days and fun circumstances. Phillip Keller explains that
the joy which is a hallmark of God’s Kingdom is not a state of happiness dependent on changing circumstances or on what is happening around us. It is, rather, a serene, stable spirit known only to those who enjoy the presence of God’s person within their lives. They sense and know that the King is in residence. In this awareness, there lies enormous assurance and quiet joy . . . free from fear and joyous with the strength of God, no matter how tempestuous life may be.[i]
James is calling us to develop such deep-in-our-souls satisfaction and contentedness, no matter what blows our way. Do you sense the King is in residence? Are you enjoying his presence?
Jesus’ brother says, “Calculate troubles as fresh opportunities.” He was calling those early Jesus-followers—and us today—to take a very intentional outlook. A deliberate, chosen frame of mind. This is crucial, because we too often react instead of respond. We freak out in ugly anger or loopy worry or dismal depression. We think, “Woe is me! No one else has ever had it this bad.” Or “I’m a victim.” Or “It’s all over; this is the end; I will never recover.” It’s our knee-jerk reaction to say, “That’s it; I quit. I’m not going to even try anymore.” So, we give up in whatever arena we are experiencing troubling times.
It’s “giveupitus.” We give up on our family. We give up in school. We give up in the business. When you find it’s not easy being a committed follower of Jesus. When your choices are not wildly popular with your family. When people at work are bringing pressure on you to compromise your values. When you’ve been rejected by someone because you follow Jesus. When the winds of the COVID-crisis season are blowing even more shingles off your roof. It’s tempting to say, “I give up on passionately pursuing and following Jesus!”
Notice James’ aim with such intentional outlook: all joy! Here’s an opportunity for truly abundant, exuberant, overflowing joy. Again, real joy goes beyond our normal ideal feelings of situational happiness. Instead, this joy is deep in your soul satisfaction, no matter what your circumstances. It’s born out of resilient faith, a serious trust in God’s loving, good, and all-wise plans.
A million-dollar question
In verse three, James describes troubles as “the testing of your faith.” Such a test aims to prove something is genuine. Will the renowned expert on The Antiques Roadshow verify the dusty, ugly vase some dude bought at a yard sale is the real McCoy, worth thousands more than he paid for it? James claims that trials prove our faith is the real deal.
But what is faith? There’s a million-dollar question. Faith gets tossed around in mainstream media along with buzzwords like love, sex, and cheeseburgers. All sorts of feel-good-ism and self-help is often associated with today’s popular talk on faith. But what is it, really? Erwin Raphael McManus astutely explains: “To the best of my understanding, faith is trusting God enough to obey what He has said, and hope is having the confidence that God will do everything He has promised. One pushes you; the other pulls you.”[ii] I love such an explanation. Faith is grounded in serious substance. With substantive faith, we dare to take God at his word and trust his promises are really true. Then we choose to live all of life like he will do exactly what he said he will do.[iii]
What if our tough times are really the best times for growing stronger? James explains what such testing of your faith produces. Greater endurance! It’s stick-to-it perseverance. You remain patient in the midst of the suffering. Perseverance means you stand your ground in the trouble. Like Rocky being bludgeoned blow after blow by Clubber Lang in Rocky III. Though he’s exhausted from being pounded, Rocky stays on his feet. He keeps bobbing and taking more of the beating, just waiting for the right opportunity.
Though James originally struggled to believe, his encounter after Jesus’ resurrection awakened his own faith (1 Cor 15:7). Those early days for Jesus’ family and friends were fear-filled with the threat of persecution. It was here that James joined the fellowship (Acts 1:14). In such a crucible of controversy, as the early church was getting started, James’ own endurance began to grow. Eventually, he became a key leader and was recognized as a “pillar” in the growing movement (Acts 12:17, 15:1-29).[iv] Perseverance means you hold on and hold up under the pressure. It’s staying power! We all need such endurance, the grit to persevere, especially in times like these.
What’s typically required for us to thrive under pressure? You only build more muscle by adding weight and repeating more reps. You will likely add distance and improve your running time as you doggedly push up the same painful stretch of hills day after day. You resist your every urge to give up. Stronger character only grows in our lives through experiencing troubles, and continuing to climb.
Choose joy when you encounter suffering, and you will build the kind of memory muscle necessary for thriving. You’ll develop greater tenacity in your own soul as well as greater capacity to share joy and thriving with family, neighbors, coworkers, and other friends. Notice what James says next. “Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (vs. 4).
One of God’s greater aims as we persevere in troubles is to hand-craft our genuine completion, a more thriving maturity in Christlike character. Here’s motivation to fully embrace the work God wants to do in your life through troubles and suffering. Why? The pay-off will be huge! You will become a different kind of person—complete, mature and developed—more like James’ big brother Jesus. You’ll have a deeper inner framework, primed and ready to graciously bless neighbors, coworkers, family, and others.
Serious question. Do you really believe your life can look more like Jesus? Ponder that. Too often, we stay stuck in the hole we fell into. We just wallow in the mud. When I take personal stock, I am afraid I’ve spent too many days making excuses, hiding behind my sorry circumstances, or collapsing again under the weight of my troubles. James urges us to buy into something richer and wiser. Living with more thriving, Christ-like tenacity can be a reality. But you have to choose joy in your various trials. And keep choosing joy. As you do, you’ll grow that stronger perseverance and be ready to live on mission for King Jesus in greater ways!
Reflections to help you grow stronger and thrive
What’s are the current troubles you’re facing? What’s your current trial feel like, and how are you handling it?
How might your situation and attitude look different if you choose real joy?
What will it take for you to see your troubles as opportunities for growth? Who could help you frame your situation with such perspective during this season?
Describe two or three tangible ways you can persevere right now. Paint a picture for yourself of what thriving endurance would look like.
Pray with an eager, teachable spirit. “Lord, show me more. Please grow me more.” Tap into deep determination based on Christ’s strength.
[i]W. Phillip Keller, A Layman Looks at the Lord’s Prayer, Chicago: Moody Publishers, 1976, p. 71.
[ii]Erwin Raphael McManus, Seizing Your Divine Moment, Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2002, p. 146.
[iii]I am forever indebted to Dr. James Lytle, long-time friend and professor. I first heard him share this understanding of grounded and active faith when I was an eighteen-year-old, sitting in his “Building a Biblical Lifestyle” class.
[iv]Richard J. Foster, Streams of Living Water, New York: Harper Collins, 2001, p. 68-9.
Consider your attitude at work toward others—especially with people who are suffering, experiencing pain, or dealing with special needs. A study in contrasts often serves us well.
The star-studded, big-screen story captured my imagination and proved wildly entertaining. I was entranced by Phineas and Charity Barnum. The flick was riveting and the songs so memorable. But I also recall lines from a biblical story whose theme supplies a stunning counterpoint.
The Greatest Showman
Barnum collects various shocking personages from the streets of New York. All of them have distinguishing physical attributes, abilities, disadvantages and yes, disabilities. His cast includes the likes of Lettie Lutz (the bearded lady), Charles Stratton (General Tom Thumb), Lord of Leeds, the Albino Twins, the Strong Man, Woman in Gold, plus others. Many of these precious people were considered oddities and outcasts in society, as evidenced by the riotous protestors outside Barnum’s Circus. These featured characters attracted large crowds.
By movie’s end, Barnum has journeyed from rags to riches, and back to rags again. Following the disastrous fire, we are moved with emotion. His cast of “strange attractions” actually visit him in the saloon and implore him to come back, to restart again. They praise him as one who believed in them, accepted them—made them feel like family—so they urge him to not give up.
As movie goers, we are cheering for him as he comes home to Charity and his daughters. And to his cast of wonderful people, Barnum vows “from now on” he’ll rebuild. Barnum will be a better man. It’s a marvelous, feel-good tale, splendidly tailored for the big screen.
Alas, true history is seldom fully found on the big screen. With deeper research, P.T. Barnum’s own motives and shadow side can be seen in his glaring mistreatment of another human.
Something more to the story
In 1835, Barnum purchased Joice Heth, an elderly black woman, for one thousand dollars. She was an ancient, toothless, shriveled woman. The showman exhibited her as the supposed slave purchased by George Washington’s family back in 1727. Stunningly articulate, she could sing old hymns from the bygone era and tell tales of “little George.”
Barnum placed her on display in New York and purported her to be at least 161 years old. In local papers, Heth was publicized as “THE GREATEST NATURAL AND NATIONAL CURIOSITY IN THE WORLD.” It was an outrageous claim, but provided a captivating show attracting crowds and garnering Barnum a fortune. There was something even more outrageous, sad, and sinister about Barnum’s business.
Matthew Goodman explains the Showman’s motive: “Barnum, after all, wanted not youth but age, not vigor but feebleness, not strength but fragility. In Joice Heth he had found just what he was hoping for, a perfect combination of mental acuity and physical decrepitude. Though blind and paralyzed in nearly all of her limbs, the old woman had not lost her power of speech, and Barnum was struck—as were all who came to view her—by how sociable she was, how she kept up an almost constant conversation on a wide variety of topics.”[1] Goodman’s full account reveals the stunning hoax and utterly self-absorbed nature of Phinehas Barnum’s public display of this woman with disabilities.
The true story is so sad. He fully exploited Joice Heth as an oddity. In retrospect, I find it personally appalling to cheer for Phineas and his show.
The Greatest Sufferer
I recall another wildly successful business person in history. This man’s story goes from riches to rags to riches again. But his tale is long, arduous, and marked by personal lament during poignant suffering. Job is one of the most famous sufferers of all time. One day he had a full family, a flourishing household, land and wealth, but then in a sudden series of cataclysmic events, he lost it all.
Our biblical account of this amazing individual conveys much of his own wrestling through his suffering, via poetic lament. He pours out his complaint to his graciously listening God. In one such section, he presents his own case, his track record of work. It goes like this:
Whoever heard me spoke well of me, and those who saw me commended me, 12 because I rescued the poor who cried for help, and the fatherless who had none to assist them. 13 The one who was dying blessed me; I made the widow’s heart sing. 14 I put on righteousness as my clothing; justice was my robe and my turban. 15 I was eyes to the blind and feet to the lame. 16 I was a father to the needy; I took up the case of the stranger. 17 I broke the fangs of the wicked and snatched the victims from their teeth. (Job 29:11-17)
So intriguing to realize this wholly unique attitude: Job passionately helped sufferers. Though he was now suffering himself, his posture at work had been one of helping those in need.
Job’s explanation of how he had personally worked on behalf of other sufferers supplies a powerful foretaste, an early anticipation of an even greater one to come, Jesus. The Greatest Sufferer was the ultimate worker of wonders for others who suffered. He brought sight to the blind, steps to the lame, bread for the hungry, and ultimate blessing to the dying. The One who took up the cross had already been bearing a cross on behalf of others in need.
Blessing other sufferers through your work
What if instead of Barnum’s outlook, we aim to conduct our business affairs like Job—and ultimately, Jesus? What if we very deliberately work to bless others in need?
In Work: The Meaning of Your Life, Lester DeKoster notes the importance of self-denial:
Isn’t this exactly what the Lord requires of those who would be his followers? Self-denial for self-giving to others—that’s what we do through our jobs! “Take up your cross,” the Lord adds . . . Yes, the Bible takes full account of the wounds inflicted by working. And God instructs us that in suffering these to give our selves to the service of others, we follow the way set before his followers by the Lord Jesus himself.[2]
I am challenged to lay down “greatest showman” attitudes this week. May I instead take up the attitude of the “Greatest Sufferer,” Jesus!
Will you join me? As we more clearly sense others’ needs, let’s make plans to shoulder their burdens. Let’s take up their causes, create more accessibility, level the playing field, right the wrongs, help them heal, and mobilize to deeply serve others in our work with the attitude of Christ Jesus.
[1]THE SUN AND THE MOON: The Remarkable True Account of Hoaxers, Showmen, Dueling Journalists, and Lunar Man-bats in Nineteenth-century New York, p. 115ff.
We are enveloped in collective grief. One of our dear friends, very close in our local faith community, suddenly and shockingly lost her husband in his sleep. What a stunning, sudden descent of sorrowful suffering. This wonderful wife and two heroic sons watched EMTs work for several hours in valiant attempts to revive him. Now, friends and family are rallying around them with great love. But everyone feels numb, shocked, and full of sorrow.
Life in our fallen world has once again dealt the cruel, crashing waves. We’ve come to know the crushing torrents with what feels like perpetual vengeance across 2020 and ’21. In so many ways, we are all castaways on our lonely islands of lament. Like never before—at least in our lifetime—we know the dreadful agony of collective complaint.
But do we really know how to lament well?
The now-classic film, Cast Away, stars Tom Hanks as Chuck Noland, an obsessive executive for FedEx. His plane plunges during a violent storm over the Pacific. Chuck drifts ashore, the lone survivor of the disastrous crash. Against all odds, he learns to live all alone on the deserted island—accompanied only by his faithful volleyball, Wilson, and his fiancés picture inside her treasured locket. Chuck survives for many long and treacherous years on the island, constantly longing to sail home to his love, Kelly, other dear ones, and his all-consuming career.
Upon a remarkable rescue and return, Chuck discovers his previous existence is stunningly changed. Everything about the life he once knew is utterly upended. Ironically, he is still the castaway, even though he is back home.
There’s an especially poignant scene toward movie’s end when he sits in a dim room. Though talking with his friend, Chuck stares into the distance and shares a deeply revealing soliloquy. With towel around his neck and a cold glass in hand, he solemnly reflects:
Kelly added it all up and knew she had to let me go. I added it up, knew that I had lost her, ‘cause I was never gonna get off that island. I was gonna die there, totally alone. I was gonna get sick or injured or something . . . I had power over nothing! That’s when this feeling came over me like a warm blanket. I knew that somehow, I had to stay alive . . . somehow. I had to keep breathing, even though there was no reason to hope. And all my logic said that I would never see this place again. So that’s what I did. I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day that logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in and gave me a sail. And now here I am. I’m back, in Memphis, talking to you. I have ice in my glass . . . And I’ve lost her all over again. I’m so sad that I don’t have Kelly. But I’m so grateful that she was with me on that island. And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?
That’s lament. So much more than furtive tears or a twinge of sorrow. Here is a deep, authentic, sustained heart cry over the sad and sorry conditions that have descended and thoroughly saturated his soul. It’s genuine, rugged, unfiltered, raw.
Biblical literature is replete with examples, including portions of Job’s account, the prophet Jeremiah’s Lamentations, as well as the ancient Hebrew songbook of Psalms.
Expression of lament actually carries overwhelming weightiness, making up the preponderance of the Psalms. Praise psalms are next in volume, but lament looms larger across the lyrics. Walter Brueggemann aptly calls them complaint psalms, and he urges us to learn to pray them:
I suggest that most of the Psalms can only be appropriately prayed by people who are living at the edge of their lives, sensitive to the raw hurts, the primitive passions, and the naïve elations that are at the bottom of our life. For most of us, liturgical or devotional entry into the Psalms requires a real change of pace. It asks us to depart from the closely managed world of public survival, to move into the open, frightening, healing world of speech with the Holy One.[1]
In light of my friend and her family’s sudden loss, plus so many others this year being rudely ushered into sorrow and grief, I find myself asking: how might lament work something stronger, better, and growth-oriented for us castaways of 2021. Consider these ideas for working with lament, engaging in more productive complaint with the Holy One.
Sit with it. Don’t try to rush it.
It’s tempting to think we just need to cry for a few days, allow others to bring us some casseroles, then mop up and get on with life. Reality is, grieving is an arduous process. We should not rush our own souls or those of our fellow castaways. Give it time. Give it space. Let the sorrow and remembering do a fresh work of the Spirit’s grace. So we wait and trust his perfect timing.
Be as authentic in your description as possible.
When we hear Chuck Noland’s words and we read many of the biblical complaints, we find raw realism. It’s really rather stunning. Castaways courageously revisit the ugly scene, ask why and how long, and they pour out their frustration, both with their sorry circumstances and with God himself.
So, go ahead. Let your tears flow and your rugged questions gush. Can’t find the words? That’s okay. Pray some Psalms. Psalm 13 and Psalm 88 are especially good ones. Make them your own. When your own words do come, write out the torrent of your deepest dismay, fears, and frustrations. Let it all out.
Know that God can handle your complaint.
One of the most refreshing insights about our lament is just that. He can handle it. He’s not shocked by our horror, our heart cries, and our questions. Our loving Father does more than tolerate our complaints and gushing words. He joins us there.
Jesus joined his friends, Martha and Mary, in Bethany right after the death of their brother. Jesus was really good friends with Lazarus. We’re told Jesus expressed his own anguish with weeping and redoubled expressions of frustration. He was deeply moved and troubled (John 11:33, 35, and 38). As Jesus cried aloud, the story makes a big point of telling us that Jesus knew his Father heard him (vs. 41-42).
Upon his own crucifixion, Jesus cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The question hollered heavenward was echoing the bold lament of Psalm 22. In those moments, Jesus was the Holy One, now feeling like a tragic castaway on Mount Calvary.
Watch for what’s next. Be open to the good God has in store.
Don’t rush your complaint. Good lament takes time. Take that first idea very seriously. But don’t wallow endlessly in despair, grow bitter, and live forever as the exiled castaway.
So many of the complaint Psalms, as well as Job’s story and Jeremiah’s heart cries are full of the eventual, wondrous turn upward. Eventually, the complainer starts to shift her or his vision in a new direction. Amidst the groaning, faithful complainers eventually churn again with holy anticipation because they’ve talked to the Holy One.
There’s hope for brighter days. Recall how our crucified castaway would not stay in the grave. Sunday would come, and he knew it. Hebrews 12:2 says, “For the joy set before him he endured the cross . . .” We can fix our eyes on him, persevere, and not grow weary or lose heart. We can join Chuck Noland and say:
“I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?”
[1]Praying the Psalms: Engaging Scripture and the Life of the Spirit, p. 8.
johneltonpletcher 