Dear American Church

November 18, 2015March 3, 2016 / trotters41 / 2 Comments

by Elizabeth

Dear American Church,

I love you. You are the Church that birthed me, the Church that raised me, the Church that sent me out — and I will always be grateful for you. I will always love you.

But, dear American Church, can you not see? The walking wounded are among you, and you seem blind to their pain. Have you no eyes to see, no ears to hear, no heart to care?

There are people among you who long to be listened to, who long to be cared for. Who better to care, than the Body of Christ? And who better to walk alongside, than the people of God?

But from my vantage point, American Church, you’re not paying any attention.

In all my stateside travels, the one constant has been people who want to tell their stories. Perhaps they’ve lived overseas for a time or moved here from abroad. Perhaps they stayed in America and simply accumulated some pain along the way.

These people, they’re hurting, and they don’t have anyone to tell their stories to. No one seems to be listening. For who could possibly be interested in anything besides American sports and American vacations and the relentless keeping-up-with-the-Joneses-American-rat-race life??

Everywhere I go in America, I talk to people who’ve had life-changing experiences, who are lonely and hurting. When I sit down with them, their stories start flowing. When I ask them if they have anyone else to tell their stories to, they answer, “No.”

Won’t anyone listen to them?? Won’t anyone be a safe place for them to land??

Dear American church, people want to tell you their stories. They want to be heard. They want to be known. From the immigrant to the missionary, from the layperson to the local minister, these travelers are hungry for people who care.

Dear American Church, don’t you remember that we bear God’s image? And as image-bearers, don’t you know that God calls us to imitate Him in His question to Hagar: “Where have you come from, and where are you going?”?

Dear American Church, you know you don’t have to fix people’s problems, right?? All you have to do is open up your heart and show that you care. All you have to do is sit in silence and listen. All you have to do is offer up the occasional hug and prayer.

All you have to do is let their hurt, hurt you.

Dear American Church, let me tell you something. The wounded? They’re closer to heaven than you are. They’ve seen brokenness. They’ve watched the world break people. They’ve watched the world break them. And they are closer to the Kingdom because of it.

Blessed are those who realize their need for Him, for the Kingdom of heaven is theirs. These words come straight from the mouth of Jesus. The Kingdom is at hand, He tells us; it’s near the brokenhearted. And when we draw near the brokenhearted, we draw near the Kingdom, too.

Blessed are the pure in heart, says our Christ, for they will see God. Blessed are the ones whose hearts are honest in all things, whose hearts know their wounds and know their own deceit. They are closer to heaven than we are. They are the ones who will see God, who will experience Him.

The lonely and the hurting, they know what heaven is, because they know what heaven isn’t — it’s everything they’re not living. They know they need care and companionship, redemption and restoration. In their weakness and in their longing, they are that much closer to heaven, that much closer to the heart of our Savior for this broken world.

Dear American Church, stretch out your hand to them, and take one step closer to the rule of Christ. Touch their pain, and walk arm and arm into the Kingdom with them. Share in their sorrows, and taste of heaven.

Ask questions and listen to their answers. Cry with them, grieve with them, long with them. All they need is you, dear American Church, open-handed and open-hearted.

Dear American Church, I beg of you to do this with me. I cannot bear this burden alone. And neither can I bear the thought of losing my faith in you. So won’t you enter the Kingdom with me? Won’t you take a look at suffering, and see God with me?

Let us enter into the Kingdom hand in hand with the hurting. They will lead us. They will guide us. The poor in spirit and the pure in heart, the ones who are honest, the ones who are needy, let them take us by the hand and lead us into the Kingdom.

I’m willing. Are you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Art of Pressing On in Our Rhythms {Velvet Ashes}

November 9, 2015 / trotters41 / Leave a comment

Elizabeth is over at Velvet Ashes today . . .

I used to stuff and starve. I’d stuff myself with food, and then deprive myself of it. Or I’d fast in preparation for a big meal. I didn’t want those binges showing up on my body.

Unfortunately, stuffing and starving doesn’t work for weight control in the long run (or so I remember reading somewhere). It’s also not very comfortable. I was always ravenously hungry or painfully full, never moderately hungry or pleasantly satisfied. I was stuck in a cycle of feast or famine.

I used to do the same thing with sleep. When my high school homework kept me up late, I’d sleep in on the weekends. My physics teacher Mr. Carmichael told me the engineering students at the university I was planning to attend also studied late into the weeknights and then tried to catch up on the weekends.

But, he said, the science showed that this approach doesn’t work. Habitually depriving ourselves of sleep and then sleeping in on the weekends doesn’t give us quality rest. Our bodies aren’t made for that rhythm. (Though of course his wisdom did nothing to prevent me from succumbing to it again in college.)

I think I used to stuff and starve in my relationship with God, too. I’d subsist on crumbs from Sunday morning services and on pre-digested meals from Bible class. Then I’d spiritually pig out at conferences and camps.

Finish reading this piece here.

I’m Only Here for the Food

November 2, 2015November 2, 2015 / trotters41 / 4 Comments

by Elizabeth

As I’ve worked my way chronologically through the Gospels, I’ve noticed how Jesus keeps telling His disciples that they don’t understand. For instance, when Peter asks Jesus to explain a parable about unclean food in Matthew 15, Jesus replies, “Don’t you understand yet?”

And just a little bit later, when the disciples start arguing about the yeast of the Pharisees, Jesus says in exasperation, “Don’t you understand even yet? Why can’t you understand that I’m not talking about bread?”

Then in Mark 6 after Jesus walks on water, gets into the disciples’ boat, and calms the wind, the text says that “They were totally amazed, for they still didn’t understand the significance of the miracle of the loaves. Their hearts were too hard to take it in.”

Now if I had been one of Jesus’ disciples, I might have started taking offense at His constant accusations. What do you mean, Jesus? My heart is too hard to take in this miracle? Just how stupid do You think I am??

So by the time I got to Jesus’ words in John 6:26 — “I tell you the truth, you want to be with Me because I fed you, not because you understood the miraculous signs.” — I started to think that for all the thousands of years and countless sermons and Bible commentaries standing between me and those poor dense disciples, perhaps I don’t understand the big picture, either. Maybe I don’t understand the significance of it all.

Because His miracles still amaze me. And because His power still impresses me. And because, truthfully, I can only echo the words of Jacqueline in the movie Ever After: “I’m only here for the food.”

All I know is that I keep coming back to Jesus because He feeds me.

In this passage Jesus is talking to some of the 5000 He’d fed the day before. They had witnessed His wonders. They had seen His signs. Yet Jesus knew they weren’t there for the right reasons; they were only there for the food.

And I start to wonder, do I really understand this Jesus business?? Or am I completely missing the point?? If I’m only here because He feeds me, what is it that I’m not quite getting??

But then Jesus seems to go off the deep end in verse 35 and claim that He’s the bread of life. Huh?? The bread of life? As in, getting my nourishment from Jesus? You mean that maybe, just maybe, the way I survive is the way Jesus actually wants us to survive??

So maybe I’m not too terribly far off base here. Maybe it’s ok that I’m only here for the food, that I’m only here for the Bread of Life. I still might not understand the true significance of the miracles, but He feeds me, and that’s all I care about.

I’m with Peter, who, when asked just a little while later if he was going to desert Jesus like so many others had, answered, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life.”

Amen to that, Peter. I’m putting a stake in the ground along with you. For truly, Lord, to whom would we go? You are our food and You are our drink. You are the True Bread that came down from Heaven, and we’re only here for You.

Sometimes I Hoard God’s Love

October 31, 2015 / trotters41 / 2 Comments

by Elizabeth

I’m always ready to receive good gifts from the Father. Then again, who isn’t??

And in using the word gifts, I don’t mean material possessions, but rather the little (and big) evidences of God’s Love in my life.

I know God loves me. I know He made me and that He wants to give me good gifts.

Then, in a total disconnect, I look at people who’ve hurt me, and I don’t want them to receive good gifts. That’s not fair. They don’t deserve that, you see. They’ve hurt me.

I know this way of thinking is wrong, yet I cling to it anyway — until one day I was driving along the scant Kansas countryside and the words of Jesus came to me. HARD.

“You parents—if your children ask for a loaf of bread, do you give them a stone instead?Or if they ask for a fish, do you give them a snake? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask Him.” — Matthew 7:9-11

I’ve hurt other people, yet He still bestows loving gifts upon me. Then I turn and I don’t want Him to lavish His love on other people.

But I realized: I don’t deserve those good gifts from my Father either. And doesn’t He love other people as much as He loves me?? Doesn’t He want to give good gifts to them as much as to me??

God loves everybody equally; I universally believe this.

In my head.

But my head needed shaking and my heart needed stirring.

Because He wants to give good gifts to people who have hurt me, in the same way I want to give good gifts to all my children equally, no matter what they’ve done and regardless of how they treat one another.

I can have a pretty rotten heart sometimes, yet not only does God want to give me good gifts, He follows through on it: He actually gives me those gifts. Gifts I receive with an open heart and an open hand.

But I clench my hands back up again when I think about Him giving good gifts to other people.

So right then and there on a sunny day on the open highway, I opened up my hands again and said, “I’m glad you are a good Father to me. And I know You want to give good gifts to people who’ve hurt me. I think I want to be glad about that now, too.”

Because if I’m not glad about that, about a loving Father who takes good care of an imperfect child, then I can’t possibly expect to receive good gifts for myself, a fellow imperfect child.

These logical-sounding words describe what was actually a very palpable shift in my heart. A shift of love towards those who have trespassed against me. A new understanding of God’s parental love. And another release of bitterness from my soul.

So I thank Him. I thank Him for the good gifts He’s given me. I thank Him for the good gifts He’s given others.

I choose not to hoard God’s love for myself.

For He is a good Father to all. And I am glad.

When Two Writers Meet

October 30, 2015 / trotters41 / 1 Comment

Yesterday I (Elizabeth) had the privilege of meeting another writer in person, a writer I’ve only known through the internet. She was so sweet and accepting of me, and our time together felt far too short. Afterwards she wrote about our lunch with such love and affection that I wanted to send it on to our trotters41 readers. It’s a beautiful picture of what followers of Christ can be for each other.

You can read Robynn’s words here.