Elizabeth’s

The Church: On Not Being the Casserole Lady

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by Elizabeth

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Many a Casserole Lady has cared for me. The Casserole Lady brings food to the hurting, nourishment to the weary, comfort to the downcast. She’s first on your doorstep with home-baked bread and brownies, with meatloaf and soup, and of course, with casseroles galore. She ensures you don’t need to plan and prepare meals when you’re grieving a loss, are freshly postpartum, or find yourself in any other time of need.

I love the Casserole Ladies, but I am not one of them.

Sometimes I think about people with the gift of hospitality and get this gnawing, guilty feeling. Why can’t I be more like them? I wish I could, for hospitality seems like the Real Spiritual Gift. Delivering meals to doorsteps, inviting large groups into your home for meals, hosting people long-term as part of your family — this all sounds so very first century Christian. I sigh and start to think I must not measure up.

But I think my accounting system is off when I calculate this way. Maybe I shouldn’t be tallying things up like this. It shouldn’t be about me, me, me. It shouldn’t be about how valuable or useful my gifts are. We shouldn’t have a “usefulness hierarchy” — that’s a joy-stealer if ever I heard one. Instead, I’ve come to believe that it’s about the love behind my actions. It’s about my offering of love to the Lord’s Beloved, for I speak a language of love to the Church that is no less than those gifted in hospitality.

This idea of speaking a language of love originated in Gary Chapman’s book “The Five Love Languages,” where he specifies these 5 love languages:

Words of Affirmation

Physical Touch

Acts of Service

Gifts

Quality Time

I’ve mostly heard the idea of Love Languages applied to individual relationships, and to marriage in particular. It generally seems to be discussed in the context of getting your own needs met, explaining why you’re disappointed when they aren’t, and of course making sure you meet your spouse’s needs in return. [Note: I’m not saying that’s how it’s discussed in the book. I’m just saying that’s how I’ve usually heard it discussed amongst The People.]

That approach just doesn’t satisfy me anymore. I want to reframe the gifts discussion, and I want to reframe the love language discussion. I want to stop talking about the gifts we receive from God and start talking about the love we offer back to Him. I want to move beyond just determining how I prefer to receive love, and start embracing the way I most wholeheartedly give love.

Some people, like the Casserole Ladies, love through their Acts of Service. (And we’re all grateful for them!)

Some people love through monetary Gifts. (And building funds and charities everywhere are grateful for them, not to mention those of us in support-based ministry who rely on Gifts for our daily bread.)

Some people love through Physical Touch. (And we’re all grateful for the huggers and the greeters and, let’s not forget, the tireless nursery workers and stay-at-home moms.)

Some people love through Quality Time. (And we’re all grateful for the preachers, teachers, and small group leaders who painstakingly prepare lessons week after week, and for those who sit with people, whether sick or well, whether discouraged or not, giving their time to them.)

Obviously this is not an exhaustive treatise on all the ways members of the Body might speak these five different love languages! I just want to ask this question today: How do you speak love, out of an overflow of your own heart, to the Church? Not what you think you should be doing to serve. Not what you see someone else doing. Not what you’ve always done. But, how do you speak love in such a way that brings you joy?

For me, the way I most wholeheartedly give love to the Body of Christ is through Words of Affirmation. I use words with the hope of blessing people, not for my sake, but for theirs. I offer words, and not just in blog posts — though they’re here too. I also pour all my love into emails and private messages, just because I want to, and because it brings me joy. It is through words that I give gladly and love fully.

I take my counsel from Peter, who says “Do you have the gift of speaking? Then speak as though God himself were speaking through you,” and from Paul, who says, “If your gift is to encourage others, be encouraging.” I hear their commission to speak and encourage not through the lens of gift or skill or talent, but through the lens of love.

I want the discussion of love languages to be about what we give, for the pure joy of it, and not what we need from others. I want to approach service from the vantage point of love, and not of giftings. Not from a focus on me and what God has given me, but from a focus on offering my love to others. Not in order to pigeonhole myself into speaking only one “language,” but to embrace the way I show love and to give my whole soul to it.

I want our love languages to be an outpouring of love, a breaking open of our alabaster boxes.

 

What is your offering of love to the Church? What Language do you speak to her?

 

Check out Julie Meyer’s song Alabaster Box, in which she talks about pouring out all her love for Jesus.

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And we cannot end without a quote from Henri Nouwen who, in his book The Return of the Prodigal Son, expresses my feelings and experiences so well:

“When I first saw Rembrandt’s painting, I was not as familiar with the home of God within me as I am now. Nevertheless, my intense response to the father’s embrace of his son told me that I was desperately searching for that inner place where I too could be held as safely as the young man in the painting. . . .

I have a new vocation now. It is the vocation to speak and write from that place back into the many places of my own and other people’s restless lives. I have to kneel before the Father, put my ear against his chest and listen, without interruption, to the heartbeat of God. Then, and only then, can I say carefully and very gently what I hear.

I know now that I have to speak from eternity into time, from the lasting joy into the passing realities of our short existence in this world, from the house of love into the houses of fear, from God’s abode into the dwellings of human beings. I am well aware of the enormity of this vocation. Still, I am confident that it is the only way for me.”

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Other posts in The Church series:

Hungry for Community

“Me too” Moments

Dear American Church

I am a Worshipper

Authenticity is Not New

The Darkness Deepens

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by Elizabeth

dd2

In church we sing

Lord reign in me, reign in your power, Over all my dreams, In my darkest hour.*

We proclaim our determination to say “Blessed be the name of the Lord” even

When the darkness closes in.*

And sometimes — though less often in the modern worship era in which we now live — we sing

The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide.

I used to think phrases like these meant I could cling to God when everything around me was falling apart. I thought the darkness was outside me. I thought the prayer was for help in walking through human suffering.

Last year in my piano time, I happened anew upon the hymn Abide With Me. I was in a dark time, and it caused me to question my original understanding of this song’s meaning. I wondered if it’s not really talking about the darkness outside, but rather about the darkness inside.

Maybe it’s when the darkness rises within me that I need Him most. Maybe this hymn is a prayer for mercy when sin starts to overtake my heart. Perhaps it’s a plea for His abiding presence when my mind and heart wander from His light.

Abide with me, fast falls the even’tide.

The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide.

When other helpers fail and comforts flee,

Help of the helpless, O, abide with me.

 

I need Thy presence every passing hour.

What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?

Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?

Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.

 

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;

Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.

Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?

I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

 

My mind can be a dark place. And when I’m in that dark place, I can take any Biblical truth or reality you might offer me, twist it, and spew it back at you with venom. I can fight each statement of truth with self-made lies.

Psalm 18:29 declares, “My God, you make my darkness bright.” Earlier this year I prayed, along with Common Prayer, “When I walk in darkness, Lord carry me through.” Perhaps those, too, are prayers for the darkness within, rather than the bleakness of my external circumstances.

Thankfully I’m not in a dark place now. I have been before, and I’m sure I will be again someday. When that happens, when the darkness closes in, when the darkness deepens, may I search deep within the pockets of my memory and remind myself that I triumph still, if He abides with me. When I pass through dim, cloudy days, when I feel helpless to fight the lies within, when I stumble along in a darkness of my own creation, may I call out for the Lord and beg Him to Abide.

 

*Lyrics from the songs Lord Reign in Me by Brenton Brown,

Blessed Be the Name of the Lord by Matt Redman,

and Abide With Me, by Henry F. Lyte, respectively.

The Heavens Declare

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by Elizabeth

apolloearthThe well-known United States/Soviet Union “Space Race” overshadowed a contemporaneous Cold War competition to cut through the Earth’s crust and reach the mantle. The United States abandoned its attempts to drill through the Pacific seafloor — under 11,000 feet of ocean water — after only 5 years and 601 feet. Meanwhile, Soviet drilling tenacity outlived the Soviet Union itself, continuing 24 years from its inception in 1970 to its abandonment in 1994.

Temperatures at the bottom of the Kola hole in northwestern Russia exceeded 300 degrees Fahrenheit. The rocks there were so “plastic” that whenever the drill was withdrawn, the hole would start to close. Their eventual depth reached 7.6 miles, halfway to the mantle and deeper into the Earth’s crust than Mount Everest stands above it — but still minuscule in comparison to Earth’s 7,918-mile diameter.

I never knew any of these fascinating historical tidbits.

I also never considered the fact that although we can see into outer space, we can’t see all the way to the center of the Earth. Our planet poses a problem for scientists: we can’t see into it. The methods we have for “seeing” inside the Earth are limited; everything we know about the bowels of our own planet has been discovered remotely.

I found this information in the July/August 2014 edition of Discover Magazine, in an article by Tim Folger. How we came to understand that Earth has a solid inner core and liquid outer core (in contrast to the liquid-only core scientists had previously believed Earth to have) was particularly intriguing to me, as the discovery was made by female seismologist Inge Lehman. It was a woman who, in 1929, discovered evidence of a solid iron core. It was a woman who, in 1936, published her paper arguing for that solid inner core. And it was a woman who had to wait until 1970 to be proven correct, when instruments were finally sensitive enough to corroborate her claims.

The article goes on to discuss the uniqueness of our magnetic field, especially considering new research into the heat transfer properties of molten iron, whose heat conductivity is higher than previously thought. Recent calculations with these updated properties indicate that the outer core would have conducted too much of its initial heat to the mantle, leaving it too little heat to remain molten. And Earth needs that molten iron core in order to create our life-sustaining magnetic field. Molten iron in the core is what produces the convection currents that power our magnetic field and protect us from cosmic and solar radiation. (This phenomenon is known as a “geodynamo.”)

So where did the heat come from that keeps our outer core molten? In light of the new calculations, scientists have had to look elsewhere for sources of heat for a molten outer core. One of those heat sources is a possible collision between Earth and a Mars-size body, whose blast particles would eventually coalesce into our moon. In that case, seemingly unrelated aspects of life on Earth might not be so unrelated: our moon, a molten core that induces our magnetic field and protects our oxygenated atmosphere from being stripped away, water in the crust that allows for tectonic plates to slip past each other, thus releasing heat from inside the Earth, thereby cooling it and allowing the conduction and convection that makes the molten, moving iron core induce our magnetic field to begin with.

Coincidences? the article’s author asks. Or not? Perhaps a habitable planet requires more than we’ve previously thought necessary. How repeatable is our Earth? We now know that planets are commonplace occurrences, true. But is there now more that needs to happen to ensure life than we used to think? One interviewed scientist said he thinks “It’s a matter of chance, just how the game played out, how the dice were thrown.”

I disagree. It doesn’t matter though. I still find God in the pages of a science magazine. I don’t have to be afraid of the worldview of a science writer. God can be found in the heavens He created, whether or not any researchers believe in Him. He is still there. He is still able to be found. He is still able to be worshiped.

May we daily go forth and find God in the world He has created for us.

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Photo source: Earth as seen from the Apollo 17 mission

God of Angel Armies

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by Elizabeth

hdf1

We sang Chris Tomlin’s “God of Angel Armies” in church this morning. I’d heard it on YouTube before, but to be honest, it hadn’t done much for me. So I had no idea how powerful this song could be when sung congregationally. I lifted my hands along with 500 other people and sang:

 

I know who goes before me

I know who stands behind

The God of angel armies

Is always by my side

 

The one who reigns forever

He is a friend of mine

The God of angel armies

Is always by my side.

 

I’m part of the universal Body of Christ, and this God of Angel Armies is our God. He belongs to all of us. And we belong to Him. Later in the song we proclaimed together:

 

And nothing formed against me shall stand

You hold the whole world in your hands

I’m holding on to your promises

 

You are faithful

You are faithful.

 

I look around at the world. At Cyclone Pam in the South Pacific and the earthquake in Nepal. So much devastation, so many deaths. I think of radical groups across Africa and the Middle East and all the violence they inflict. I think of the strained race relations in my own country, of the history of prejudice and hate, and of the recent riots.

I think to myself, can this be true? Can it really be that God is in control here? That He holds the whole world in His hands? That He is faithful? That I can trust Him to be always by my side?

I do not understand. Yet I believe.

There is something powerful in proclaiming our mutual trust in the God of Angel Armies.

There is something powerful in proclaiming Truths we do not understand.

I still believe these things.

I believe He is faithful.

I believe He is always by my side.

I believe He reigns forever.

I still believe in the God of Angel Armies.

The Church: “Me Too” Moments

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by Elizabeth

I always feel so discouraged about motherhood on Sundays. Sundays completely wear me out, taking care of my youngest children’s needs. I feel so out of my league. I think about all the mom blogs out there and wonder how these women have all this energy just to spend on their kids’ intellectual and spiritual development? I’ve got sin issues of my own that need working out; how can I give 110% to each kid???

Once I confessed this to another mom, who surprised me by confessing the same thing back. I felt so relieved. (And so did she.) I told her that every Sunday I think I’m not cut out to be a mom, and she told me, “Every day I think I’m not cut out to be a mom.” So we lamented together, and we laughed together, and I was so relieved to know I’m not the only one who thinks she’s failing in this motherhood venture.

One Sunday I was feeling particularly discouraged about motherhood.  My husband was praying with and ministering to teenagers. This is something I love doing with him, and I miss it. (For our family’s sake, I stepped back from youth ministry when I became pregnant with our third child.) So instead of participating in shiny, glittery youth ministry, I was responsible for the mundane task of picking up my kids from their Bible classes — and proceeding to keep an eye on them afterwards. That morning in particular, I had an intense feeling of missing out on the good stuff.

I sat there, all alone and lonely, when another woman came up to me and started a conversation. Suddenly I didn’t feel so lonely. As we talked and shared about life, I discovered that she, like me, needed some encouragement. That she, like me, dislikes conflict. I felt so relieved. I’m not the only one!? I had been feeling so useless. And I thanked God for His kindness: He sent me one of His own to encourage me. He didn’t have to, but He did. And neither did He let me walk out of church that morning feeling as utterly useless as I had begun.

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One day I was surprised to hear a Christian I really respect talk about the struggle to find time for God in the chaos of overcommitment. I literally breathed a sigh of relief. I’m not the only one!! When I accept too many social or ministry commitments, I struggle to find time to spend with God. And it’s hard for me to say “no.” I felt less like a failure knowing that someone I love and respect also struggles with setting boundaries with their time. I felt less like a failure knowing I’m not the only one whose overcommitments interrupt their tight connection with God.

I tend to look at Christians I respect and think they don’t have struggles anymore. I tend to white wash their humanity, to view them through a lens so hazy I can’t see any flaws, to assume that one day, they just “arrived” and must surely be consistent in fighting against sin and in consecrating their time to God. But I’m always relieved when I learn I’m not alone in whatever struggles I happen to be facing.

Community with other believers is where we learn we’re not alone. It’s where we collect our precious “Me too” moments. Ah the joy and relief of a “Me too” moment! Nothing compares. These “Me too” moments are the ties that bind. They are the mutual woes, the mutual burdens we bear. We share our fears, our hopes, our aims, our comforts, and our cares.* It’s what I love about the Church: endless opportunities for “Me too” moments.

*From John Fawcett’s hymn “Blest Be the Ties That Bind”

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“Not far away from us, there is someone who is afraid and needs our courage; someone who is lonely and needs our presence. There is someone hurt needing our healing; unloved, needing our touching; old, needing to feel that we care; weak, needing the support of our shared weakness.

One of the most healing words I ever spoke as a confessor was to an old priest with a drinking problem. ‘Just a few years ago,’ I said, ‘I was a hopeless alcoholic in the gutter in Fort Lauderdale.’ ‘You?’ he cried. ‘O thank God!’ When we bring a smile to the face of someone in pain, we have brought Christ to him.”

Brennan Manning

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Other posts in The Church series:

Hungry for Community

On Not Being the Casserole Lady

Dear American Church

I am a Worshipper

Authenticity is Not New