following the fearful apostle

I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling. (1 Cor 2:3 NIV)

These words startle and comfort me. They remind me that the apostle Paul felt like I do. He was weak. He feared. He trembled.1 This is exactly how I feel:

• before I read the Bible with friends. What will they think of Jesus? What will they think of his outrageous claims? What will they think of me?


• before I lead a Bible study. Who will turn up? How will the discussion go? Will they want to come back next week?


• before I visit women from other cultures or religions. Will I be able to enter their world? Will I trangress some unspoken cultural law? How can I share the love of Jesus with them?


• before I go out for coffee with a friend. Will I get any opportunities to talk about my faith? Will I have the boldness to take them? Will I know what to say?

I love doing these things, and I love the people I do them with. I bring my fears to God (Phil 4:4-7, 1 Pet 5:6-7), and my worry lessens as my trust and confidence grow.2 But I still feel anxious. I’ve come to accept this – the apprehension that builds over several days, the wakeful hours in the night, the butterflies’ wings tickling my stomach – as part of the cost of living for Jesus (Rom 12:1). Feeling a little nervous is a small price to pay for helping people get to know him.

In all this, Paul is my example. For while he trembled and feared, he never let it stop him talking about Jesus. Instead, he boasted in his weakness because it highlighted Christ’s strength (2 Cor 12:9-10). He became all things to all people, so that by all means he might save some (1 Cor 9:22). He asked people to pray that he wouldn’t give way to fear (Eph 6:18-20). He set his mind on the goodness of God and the love of Christ that would never leave him (Rom 8:18-39). He revelled in the chance to share in Jesus’ suffering (Col 1:24). Why? Because he was compelled by the love of Christ to live not for himself, but for the one who died for him (2 Cor 5:14-15 NIV).

I’ll probably never have as much reason as Paul to fear. I don’t expect to be thrown into prison, shipwrecked, flogged, beaten with rods or pelted with stones (2 Cor 11:23-33). If his troubles were ‘light and momentary’, mine are a speck on the face of eternity. Still, I’m tempted to choose an easier path. So I say to myself, with Paul:

…we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2 Cor 4:16-18)

With God’s help, I’ll follow Paul’s example, fears and all.

1. See also 2 Cor 2:4, 7:5, 11:28-29; Gal 4:11; 1 Thess 3:5. ↩
2. This is not the place to develop a theology of anxiety, but if you’re interested, see Ed Welch’s excellent Running Scared: Fear, Worry and the God of Rest. ↩

This post first appeared in The Briefing today.

image is by Rakesh Rocky at flickr

teaching our kids Two Ways to Live

The other day, my husband Steve told our four children to grab a piece of paper and a pen. Then he rolled out those old, familiar words: "God is the loving ruler of the world...".

We're teaching the gospel outline Two Ways to Live to our kids. Steve told them they'll get five dollars for every panel they get word-perfect. Actually, he wanted to give them one dollar, which says something about what a dollar was worth back when he was a child!

We figure that kids have great memories, so why not make the most of this by stuffing their heads with good things? And what better to fill their heads with than a simple gospel outline?

So far, our eight-, eleven- and thirteen-year-olds are word-perfect on the first panel. We're yet to see if the five-year-old can get his head around it. Although now I think about it, jelly-beans might be a better bribe reward for him than a five dollar note.

Oh, and we're getting the Two Ways to Live app on our daughter's iPod.

(By the way, please don't think our family is super-spiritual because I write about all the ways we teach our kids the Bible! We vary what we do from week to week and year to year. You'd never find us doing everything I've talked about in a single week. In fact, some days you won't find us doing anything at all!)

This post first appeared at The Briefing.

image is by Andy, age 5

a question for you: what does a woman's model of evangelism look like?

It seems I'm not alone. A few women agreed with an odd little statement I made last week:

I’m not sure where my mental image of “evangelism” comes from. I know one thing, though: it doesn’t look like me. It’s masculine and argumentative, maybe because much that’s written about evangelism is by men.

To which Bec said:

I think the point about masculine, argumentative evangelism is excellent. Something for me to think through further. I reckon there might even be a post in it too - what does a woman's model of evangelism look like in practice? - if you're up for it! And how do we do better at training younger women to think like this rather than the masculine model.

They're excellent questions, but I have no idea how to answer them. Can you help me?.

1. What do you think a "woman's model of evangelism" might look like in practice?


2. How could we do better at training younger women to think like this rather than the masculine model?

To leave a comment click here.

gospel speech at our school

Late last year I wrote about praying for our school and loving people at our school. Today I conclude my mini-series with the bit I find the hardest: gospel speech.

I’m no saleswoman. I don’t have the thick skin, the showmanship, or the gift of the gab. But apparently, that’s not what I need to help people get to know Jesus. The best salespeople, I’m told, show genuine concern and sympathy, and believe in what they’re talking about.1 That sounds a bit more like me. I can love; I can believe; I can pray. But I also have to open my mouth and speak.

That, I’m not so good at. Clever ideas for gospel conversations run off me like water off a waxed car. I’ll never be one of those gifted individuals who can turn a chat about graffiti into a conversation about Jesus. Instead, my tongue ties itself in knots, and only later do I have that lights-on moment when I realize, yes, that’s what I could have said. I’m queen of the sweaty palms, the awkward silence, and the fumbling answer.

I’m beginning to realize that it doesn’t have to be so hard. Speaking about the gospel isn’t some obscure skill I have to master. I don’t have to become like someone else to do it. In fact, it’s not even something I “do”, an added extra to my faith. It’s just me being who I am, chatting about the things that really matter to me. So what I want to do here isn’t to talk about gospel outlines or apologetics, useful as they are.2 Instead, I want to share ten things that have made gospel speech more natural and joyous for me.

• Close the gap
  When I’m with Christians, I’m relaxed and open: I share what God has been teaching me and talk about my struggles. When I’m with others, I’m cautious and reserved: I weigh what I say and look for rejection in their eyes. It’s exhausting. I’m tired of being two people! It’s time to close the gap. It’s time to talk the same way whoever I’m with. There’s something deeply attractive about people who talk about their faith with enthusiasm and warmth. What have I got to lose?


• Don’t assume people will respond in a certain way
  For so long, I’ve assumed that people will respond badly if I talk about Jesus. They’ll be bored. They’ll be offended. They’ll be embarrassed. Inevitably, this makes me nervous, and invites the very reaction I’m trying to avoid: I’m embarrassed, so they are too. To my surprise, I’ve found that people are often interested in what I believe. One woman even wanted to read the Bible with me! It took years to work up the courage to ask her; now I’m kicking myself for not asking sooner.


• Speak the way you speak
  I’m not sure where my mental image of “evangelism” comes from. I know one thing, though: it doesn’t look like me. It’s masculine and argumentative, maybe because much that’s written about evangelism is by men. It’s extroverted and eloquent, like my gifted female friends. Lionel Windsor says, “Different people will speak the gospel in different ways.” Phew! I’m introverted, relational and reflective, so these things will characterize my gospel speech, and that’s just fine.


• Talk about your life with God (and do it from the start)“I’ve been praying for you”; “We went to church on the weekend”; “I’ve been thinking about…”: there are lots of little ways to talk about God without explaining the whole gospel. Some people show further interest; some don’t. I’m learning to put it out there and see where it goes. It’s important to do this right from the start: this avoids that embarrassing “Oh, gosh, I never let them know I was a Christian” moment.


• Listen more than you talk
  “Do twice as much listening as talking”: so says my friend Ben Pfahlert. I’ve got a long way to go on this! Too often, I shut off a conversation by talking about what I think instead of asking others what they think. Next time someone tells me they’ve got a Catholic-Charismatic background (something that happened to me recently) I hope I’ve got the good sense to ask them to tell me more about what that was like, what stopped them being part of it, and where they’re at now.


• Get ready to answer the questions you know are coming
  We all know what the questions are likely to be: “How are you?”; “What do you do?”; “What are your plans?”. Why not get ready to include God in the topics you know are coming? It’s a little corny, but sometimes I rehearse – out loud – what I want to say. “My father-in-law died, but I know he’s gone to be with Jesus” rolls more easily off the tongue when I’ve practised, or at least thought about, what to say.


• Live differently – and be ready to explain why
  Here’s a fine moment from the life of me. I was chatting to a friend when she said, “I can’t believe how some parents over-protect their daughters, not letting them go out with guys and stuff.” Through my mind ran the words, “Well, actually, that’s pretty close to how we plan to raise ours”, but I laughed sheepishly and didn’t say anything. Later, I realised that living in a way that’s shockingly different can be a good thing, because it gives me a chance to explain why we live the way we do.


• Relax
  One of my friend’s friends told her that when she talks about her faith she sounds anxious and unnatural. That’s a little close for comfort! Telling yourself to relax can be a bit like trying not to think of a purple hippo (try it now), but it helps me all the same. I remind myself that this isn’t the Roman arena: it’s just a chance to chat about something I care about. I take a deep breath, smile, and make eye-contact. It can also help to admit, “I’m a little nervous telling you this. Would you mind if I talked about it?”.


• Get lots of practice - and make lots of mistakes
  I think the main reason I find gospel speech hard is that I don’t get much practice. It took time to learn to lead a Bible study: why do I expect this to be any different? The more I talk about my faith, the easier it gets. I make heaps of mistakes; but instead of berating myself, I try to learn, apologise (if needed), and do better next time. In the meantime, I remind myself that God is sovereign: he’s the one who chose me to be part of these people’s lives.


• Bring it all back to Jesus
  In the end, it’s Jesus I want people to meet. It’s the gospel – the good news of his life, death and resurrection – that will bring people to him. So that’s where I want my conversations to end up. If I can bring every question back to Jesus; if I can talk about the hope I have in him; if I can read a gospel with a friend: well, that’s half the battle. The rest happens as God’s Spirit works in people’s hearts.

This probably all sounds very upbeat. The truth is, I find talking about my faith difficult. I battle fear, laziness and inertia. It’s easier not to bother. But to my never-ending surprise, when I start chatting about Jesus, I discover an openness in people’s hearts (because God is at work in them), and a joy in my own heart (because God is at work in and through me), beyond anything I expected. And if I can learn to talk about my faith, anyone can!

1. See Colin Marshall and Tony Payne, The Trellis and the Vine, pages 169-170. ↩
2. I’m not sure I would have any confidence in explaining and defending my faith without the evangelism training course Two Ways To Live and books like Paul Barnett’s Is the New Testament History?. ↩

This post first appeared at The Briefing.

image is by activefree at flickr

online meanderings - failure, singleness, love and other stuff

There was much wealth this week on the internet. Much that encouraged me and made me think. Comfort in failure and in sorrow. Gold. (And a lot of Challies.)

On loving and speaking.

How do you love the way Jesus loves? - The very question I've been asking about the year ahead. I'm adding this to my reading list. A book by Phil Ryken reviewed by Justin Taylor.

Evangelism uncomplicated - Cathy says lots of things about relaxing into evangelism - things I'm finding to be true in my own life.

On sorrow, discouragement and failure.

Looking forward - I love the way Amy writes. I love this post. Hope expressed in small things, in the face of sorrow.

Crushed (written)/(podcast) - Challies talks honestly about his struggle with pride and failure when his sermons, books and blog posts don't measure up to his standards, or to others' achievements. How comforting it is to know that I am not alone! - and that "all is well with my soul".

Post prayer satanic whispers - A truly helpful post for all who feel discouraged about their prayers (hands up, everyone!) by David Murray. HT Challies.

Self-centredness in woundedness - "'Woundedness’ is compounded self-doubt and guilt, resentment and disillusionment...As badly wounded as persons may be, the resulting self-absorption of the human heart was not caused by the mistreatment. It was only magnified and shaped by it.'" A really helpful post by Ali quoting a chapter from the Keller's book on marriage.

On failure in parenting.

For parents who have failed - Such comfort! "Even if we haven’t gotten it all right, even if we’ve trained little Pharisees or have a house full of prodigals." We've got both kinds. We are both kinds. But we have God's grace. From Elyse Fitzpatrick and Jessica Thompson's Give Them Grace via Justin Taylor.

Parents beware: Proverbs are not promises - Why we can't assume that because the kids turn out badly, the parents have done a lousy job. David Mathis quotes Richard Pratt HT Challies (yes, that's another 4-way link.)

On the related topic of raising boys.

Raising boys: A pep talk on The Talk - Jeff Robinson discusses a book which looks worth reading: Time for The Talk: Leading Your Son Into True Manhood (Shepherd Press) by Steve Zollos.

CS Lewis on "little cyclones" (young boys) - Now I know why I'm sometimes (often!) so tired. The main refrain of our holidays: "Quieten down! GO OUTSIDE!". Tony HT Challies.

On singleness.

How to serve "the singles" in the local church - A very helpful article by Carolyn McCulley.

On communication: oral, written and technological.

A short history of communication - "In an oral culture...word-for-word accuracy was less important than thought-for-thought accuracy." Challies answers a question I have long had about the differences between the gospels.

Empty minds, empty hearts, empty lives - “We are becoming symbiotic with our computer tools...The experience of losing our Internet connection becomes more and more like losing a friend.' ...What we are seeing is the death of memory." Challies is helpful, as always, when discussing the impact of technology on memory and friendship.

On humanity.

Pondering Psalm 139 - Ashley, a woman with a disability, writes, "I believe with every fiber of my being that I was no accident...My heart grieves for the little ones gone and the mothers and fathers who never held their tiny bodies or kissed their sweet new skin. No earthly thing can fill a chasm so deep as a child lost. The grace of the cross, though, is a greater thing than the weight of our sin, and redeeming love awaits us all."

Where does blackness and whiteness come from? - "The genetic difference between blacks, whites, browns, etc. is so marginal that we’re left to affirm Acts 17:26: 'He made from one blood all nations of men.'”

In China, human costs are built into an iPad - The human cost of our toys. (The last three are all HT Challies.)

On everything.

Nothing nothing - This quote keeps popping into my mind. I used it to discuss the existence of God with my eight-year-old just the other day. "The first basic answer is that everything that exists has come out of absolutely nothing...Now, to hold this view, it must be absolutely nothing. It must be what I call nothing nothing. It cannot be nothing something or something nothing." Francis Shaeffer quoted by Challies.

And just for fun.

A rap for crochet - For my friend Jenny, crochet-er extraordinaire. Well done, Ali! But when do I get mine?

I must write something again some time - Please do, Meredith! (But only if you're putting your family and other relationships first, and have fulfilled all your primary responsibilities, and aren't just doing it out of people-pleasing, and, and, and... :) )

loving people at our school

This is the second of three posts about sharing Jesus with people in your local community; it follows on from praying for our school.

Our local primary school is marvellously multicultural. During the years they've been there, our kids have become best friends with Sikhs from the Punjab, Muslims from Pakistan, and Catholics from Serbia, as well as some fair-dinkum Aussie pagans. At last count, the kids at school trace their recent ancestry to more than 50 countries. In a place like this, mission knocks on your door and asks itself in.

It's not always easy to open that door. The school ground can be a daunting place, even for adults. There are tight groups gathered around picnic tables, chattering clusters and quiet loners, and people from backgrounds very different to your own. Around the edge are women from other cultures, wearing a hijab or salwar kameez: no-one, it seems, wants to talk to someone who looks a little different.

No doubt, to some, this sounds like a wealth of opportunities! To me, it felt scary and overwhelming at first; but I've learned to feel at home here, and I'm learning to love the people around me. I know you can't reduce relationships to a set of principles; but here are some things I've learned along the way.

• Be friendly to everyone, but focus on a few
  It's important to be friendly to everyone, but it also helps to focus on a few. At the moment there are five women I've made a commitment to pray for and get to know better: women with whom I have strong natural connections or a growing friendship.1 Focusing on a few relationships keeps me from growing lazy; it may help you not to spread yourself too thin.


• See below the surface
  As I talk with people, I start to see past the differences. I meet women looking for work now their kids are all at school, women hiding a little extra weight under loose garments, women rediscovering their 'faith' - whatever that faith might be. The similarities are a bridge between us; the differences, instead of being obstacles, become opportunities to find out what's important to them and to share what's important to me.


• Do less to do more
  This year has been my most exciting yet when it comes to getting to know people and chatting about Jesus. I think that's because my husband had long-service leave, so I cut lots of other things out of my life - good things like leading a weekly Bible study and teaching Sunday School. I'll do these things again, because they matter! But it's shown me that sometimes you have to say 'no' to good things in the church so you have time for relationships out of it.


• Friendship takes time
  I think I expect gospel conversations to come quickly; if they don't, I assume I've failed. I'm learning that relationships take time, at least for me! No doubt some are great at having 'meaningful' conversations early on; but while I let people know I'm a Christian from the start, it takes time for me to feel comfortable in relationships. Opportunities to talk about what people believe often come to me later. Which leads to my next point...


• Work with your strengths
  God has put me in my friends' lives because I'm the one he wants there. I'm not an extrovert who can handle 30 friendships, but I'm good at slowly building relationships; my outgoing friend is great with those who are confident but not so good with those who are quiet. The women we spend time with are very different - and that's a good thing. She's taught me to think about my interests and strengths and to build on them.


• Ask people into your home and go into theirs
  When someone invites me in for a cuppa, it’s easy to give them the Aussie cold-shoulder: "Sorry, but I'm too busy." I now allow time so that when people ask me in, I can say "Yes!". Having people over for meals (the pot-luck kind); asking people in when they drop their kids off (remembering a little mess can make them feel comfortable); spending time together in a neutral spot like a park or coffee shop: these are all great ways to grow relationships.


• Love people and receive their love
  Have you ever taken a meal to someone outside your church? You might feel awkward, but I've discovered people appreciate knowing someone is there for them. I'm often clueless about caring for people - my friend and I laugh about how I offered to look after her kids the first time we met - but thankfully, she liked me rather than wondering if I had evil designs on her children! We've become close friends, and we care for each other in many ways: it's easier to receive someone else's love when they receive yours.


• Get involved in a local community
  It's not hard for me to meet people, with kids in the local school (that's one reason we sent them there); but what if you don't have much contact with people outside the church? Maybe you could join a sports, craft or book club, do some volunteering (my mum helps a slow learner at the local school), ask your neighbours over for a meal, or just hang out in your front yard. There are people all around us; maybe it's time to start loving them, so that one day we can share the greatest love of all.


• Love is costly
  None of us always finds it easy to involve people in our lives. It's easier to spend time with those who think like we do; to treat our homes as our refuge and our time as our own. But love is costly. We may need to set aside regular times to spend with people, and make deliberate plans to include them in our lives. If we find this hard, we may have to say to ourselves, "It doesn't matter how you feel. Just get on with it and obey." So often, we'll be glad we did.

These are real relationships, and these are real people: people I'm growing to love. But how can I say I love them unless I'm willing to share the best thing I know with them? I have to grow relationships, but also be willing to risk them; to love people, but to accept that they may reject me. This comes at a cost, but it's full of joy, too: the joy of knowing I'm not ashamed of Jesus, of watching women I love come one step closer to knowing the gospel, of seeing God at work in their lives.


1. How do you choose who to focus on? My friend has chosen some women she "clicks" with and some who are lonely. Another friend, experienced in suffering, is drawn to the broken. One woman I know excels in loving people who are socially awkward. I encourage you to pray, then wait and see who God brings your way.

This post first appeared yesterday at The Briefing.

image is by Adam Jones, Ph.D. at flickr

praying for our school

It all started when my friend Rachel sent an email to Jess, Tanya and me:

I’ve been dwelling on how much I want to see families I meet at pre-school and school become Christians. And the best thing I know to do is pray. I think you all share the same passion – why not pray together? How fun to enjoy seeing God work!

Actually, it started a few months before this, when Jess, who was moving nearby, asked me for advice about local schools. No, it started a year before that, when Tanya came up to me and told me a few families from the local Presbyterian church were thinking of sending their kids to our school so they could get to know local families. Should they? There was a certain amount of strained desperation in my response: “Oh, yes! It’s a great school! Do come…”

Because really, it started eight years ago, when my daughter walked in the school gate carrying her new school bag, and I walked in bursting with enthusiasm. I hosted coffee mornings, invited women over for play-dates, and arrived at school early so I could chat with other mums while we waited for our kids to come out of class. Gradually, over the years, my enthusiasm waned. These days, I invite people over less often. I get to school at the last minute. Often, it’s easier to stand around and not talk to anyone at all.

So I know what it’s like to do it alone. Which is why this year has been such a revelation.

Once a month, Jess, Rachel, Tanya and I get together to pray for the families at our school. Here are some things this weary old sinner has learned from meeting with these eager young women – things I’m hoping will encourage and inspire you as they have me.

• God is already at work
  All kinds of ‘coincidences’ bring the people we know together. During our first meeting, we discover that one of the mums Jess is getting to know ‘just happens’ to live down the road from Rachel. A woman I’ve befriended ‘just happens’ to have had an in-depth conversation with Tanya on the way out of school, although they have no natural connection. I ‘just happened’ to choose the same pre-school group as Rachel and her friend, even though I didn’t know she was sending her daughter there. God was already at work even before we started praying together!


• Pray, for God answers prayer
  The week after our first prayer meeting, there’s a flurry of messages as we tell each other how God answered our prayers. We pray that Tanya will run into a woman she hasn’t seen for ages; she sees her on the way out of school the next afternoon. We pray for Jess to have a chance to ask another mum over; she writes, ‘Our meeting today and the Holy Spirit motivated me to have my friend and her kids over this arvo. Thanks!’ I pray for an opportunity to give a Bible to a good friend; the next week, I do. Now I’m praying we can read it together.


• Get to know people early
  As I watch my friends, I’m reminded how many opportunities come at the start of your child’s schooling – opportunities that slip away as kids grow older and mums start working and become less interested in playgroups and play dates. If you’re a mum or dad and your kids are starting pre-school or school, now is the time to get to know people. I guess the same goes for new arrivals in a suburb, workplace or sporting club: it’s important to get to know people early, and then to work at these relationships in the long term, remembering that friendships take time.


• Support and encourage each other
  Through our example and words, we inspire each other to ask people around for a meal, invite them in for coffee, initiate conversations we’ve been wanting to have. We learn from each other, discussing what kind of conversational openings might not be appropriate, and what might be more helpful. There’s a feeling of expectation: ‘What will happen this month? What will I have to share next time we pray?’ Again and again, we share our fears and uncertainties, and spur each other on to do all kinds of things we might not have had the courage for if we were doing it alone.


• Work together, as part of a local community of Christians
  One of the things we do when we get together is to write lists of people we know. Whose children are going to be at pre-school next year? Whose kids are starting school? Who should we look out for? Lots of the women we know bring their kids to the church’s playgroup; Jess invites a mum and dad from the school to a church dinner where they hear the gospel; and soon, we’ll start a regular BBQ so we can get to know each other’s friends. It helps that most of us go to the same local church so we can work together, not apart.


• Support (don’t envy!) those with gifts
  One of the women I pray with, Rachel, is particularly gifted at talking about her faith. She’s irresistibly friendly, and has already had lots of long conversations with people about what they believe. Whenever we feel uncertain – will so-and-so think I’m ‘stalking’ her if I ask her over again? should I invite so-and-so out for coffee? – she reminds us once again that ‘People love to be loved’. I don’t think I’ll ever be like her, but I can pray for her, support her, learn from her, and involve her in my friends’ lives so she can get to know them too.


• Don’t lose heart
  When I pray with my friends, the grumpy-old-ladyish part of me sometimes wants to say, ‘When my kids first started school, I was just like you. I felt excited about talking about Jesus, but just wait till you’ve been at it for eight years!’ But I know the truth. It’s easy to give up. It’s easy to lose heart. It’s easy to grow weary in doing good (Galatians 6:9). I’m so grateful that God has put these three women in my life, to encourage me to keep at it. I remind them, and they inspire me, to persevere with hope in the God who changes people’s hearts.

So if you get the chance, get together with a group of Christians and pray for people you know. Don’t give up. Don’t lose heart. Work together to befriend them. Be encouraged, because God is good, and he has his hand on those around you. Who knows? Maybe he’s at work in their hearts already (Acts 13:48). Because God has some who are his – even at our school.

This post first appeared in The Briefing today.

image is by AndersRuffCustomDesigns at flickr

sharing Jesus with women from other cultures - hospitality

You may recall I once asked you a question (that Deb asked me) about sharing Jesus with women from other cultures. If you look at the comments, you'll find lots of very helpful suggestions about inviting women from other cultures into your home.

Well, Deb - and anyone else who's interested in offering hospitality to people from other cultures - you'll love these posts! They wrap up Nicole's series on hospitality at in tandem:

an interview with Rachael about Vanuatu
thoughts from Slovenia
thoughts from Chile

Enjoy!

what I'm reading: encouragement to evangelise from The Trellis and the Vine

Ouch! This quote always makes me think, leads me to repentance, and renews my desire to talk about Jesus.

A Christian with no passion for the lost is in serious need of self-examination and repentance. Even the atheists have worked this out. Penn Jillette is an avowed and vocal atheist, and one-half of the famous comic-illusionist act Penn and Teller. He was evangelized by a polite and impressive man, and had this to say about the experience:

...If you believe that there’s a heaven and hell, and people could be going to hell, or not getting eternal life, or whatever, and you think that, well, it’s not really worth telling them this because it would make it socially awkward...How much do you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible and not tell them that? I mean if I believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that a truck was coming at you, and you didn’t believe it, and that truck was bearing down on you, there is a certain point where I tackle you. And this is more important than that...

To learn more about what Christians believe, click here.

Quote is from The Trellis and the Vine 53.

image is from Two Ways To Live

what I'm reading: give up your small ambitions from The Trellis and the Vine

Last week I told you how The Trellis and the Vine has encouraged me to be a "disciple-making disciple" whoever I'm with and wherever I am. Here are some words that particularly challenged me.

The authority of Jesus is not limited in any respect. He is the Lord and Master of my street, my neighbours, my suburb, my workmates, my family, my city, my nation - and yes, the whole world. We would not ever want to stop sending out missionaries to preach the gospel in places where it is yet to be heard, but we must also see disciple-making as our central task in our homes and neighbourhoods and churches...

We speak God's word to someone, and the Spirit enables a response...It can happen over the back fence, over dinner, or over morning tea at church. It can happen in a pulpit or on a patio...

The radicalism of this demand often feels a world away from the ordinariness of our normal Christian habits and customs. We go to church, where we sing a few songs, try to concentrate on the prayers, and hear a sermon. We chat to people afterwards, and then go home for a normal week of work or study or whatever it is that we do, in time to come again next week. We might read our Bible and pray during the week. We may even attend a small group. But would someone observing from outside say: "Look: there is someone who has abandoned his life to Jesus Christ and his mission?"...

We naturally shrink from the radical nature of this challenge. It replaces our comfortable, cosy vision of the 'nice Christian life' with a call for all Christians to devote their lives to making disciples of Jesus.

Quotes are from The Trellis and the Vine 13, 39, 43, 154.

image is from stock.xchng

Ben Pfahlert on sharing Jesus with your friends

Here's another post I just had to link to: my mate Ben's 10 in 2, where he gives some great ideas for sharing Jesus with the people in your life.

It's very timely given the fantastic conversation we've been having on this blog about sharing Jesus with women from other cultures! If you'd like to follow or join in the conversation, check out the comments here - there are some really helpful suggestions.

a question for you about sharing Jesus with women from other cultures

We live in a very multicultural area. At school, there are families from Europe, Asia, Africa and the Middle East. There are Catholics, Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs. My son's friend is Indian, I chat with a Macedonian Muslim after school, and another mum, who's become a dear friend, is from an Orthodox Christian background. There are many wonderful opportunities for talking with people about Jesus - but I often feel out of my depth.

My friend Deb recently emailed me (and we'd both love your advice):

I have also been caught up reading Miniskirts, Motherhood and Muslims because my new neighbour (we moved house at the start of the year) is a Lebanese Muslim. Have had a sudden realization that she sees things very differently from me and found myself sweeping my front path and step this morning and scrubbing my kitchen chairs lest I give the gospel a bad name! The interesting thing is that she has made (to my shame) much more of an effort to be hospitable and welcoming than I have to her. She is always inviting me in for coffee (and I'm always rushing off with the kids and promising to do it some other time.....here's a problem) and bringing over leftovers. I want to reciprocate but of course find it more difficult when my food would probably not be acceptable. I've found sweets work a treat though as there are four children in the house. Anyway, that's all a very long aside....

Like Deb, I'm sure I've committed many faux pas when my son's Punjabi friend's mum invites me in and insists,"Sit down, sit down! I'll get you something to eat!". Too often, I respond with what I'm starting to realise is an unfriendly Australian, "No thanks, I'm in a hurry." I've thought about inviting her family for a meal; but what can I feed them when they may not like our food, I can't give them anything like the Indian delicacies she offers, and our house is scruffy and cluttered to her immaculate and clean?

I'd love to hear your ideas.

image is by Sailing "Footprints: Real to Reel"(Ross+ashore) from flickr

overcoming the isolation of modern suburbia

Did you know that Australians now live in houses that are double the size of those they lived in 50 years ago? Did you know that the average Australian has 6-9 people in their house during one year?

We live in expensive, isolated splendour. The overseas students we meet through my husband's university ministry say that most visitors from other countries return home after years of study or work never having entered an Australian home. Most Australians live next door to people who never set foot inside their front door.

Modern suburbia eerily parallels CS Lewis' description of hell in The Great Divorce, as Ben Pfahlert pointed out during his talk on Philippians 1 at last weekend's MTS Challenge Conference Victoria. CS Lewis' words as he describes the "grey town" of hell are almost prophetic:

I seemed to be standing in a busy queue by the side of a long, mean street. ... I had been wandering for hours in similar mean streets, always in the rain and always in evening twilight. ... I never met anyone. But for the little crowd at the bus stop, the whole town seemed to be empty. ...

'It seems the deuce of a town,' I volunteered, 'and that's what I can't understand. The parts of it that I saw were so empty. Was there once a much larger population?'

'Not at all' said my neighbour. 'The trouble is that they're so quarrelsome. As soon as anyone arrives he settles in some street. Before he has been there twenty-four hours he quarrels with his neighbour. But before the week is over he's quarrelled so badly that he decides to move. Very likely he finds the next street empty because all the people there have quarrelled with their neighbours - and moved. If so, he settles in. If by any chance the street is full, he goes further. But even if he stays, it makes no odds. He's sure to have another quarrel pretty soon, and then he'll move on again. Finally he'll move right out to the edge of town and build a new house. ...

'They've been moving on and on. Getting further apart. ... Astronomical distances. There's a bit of rising ground near where I live and a chap has a telescope. You can see the lights of the inhabited houses, where those old ones live, millions of miles away. Millions of miles from us and from one another. Every now and then they move further still.'

As the bus in the story rises in the air, and the grey town spreads out below from horizon to horizon, it's modern suburbia I'm seeing from an aeroplane window in my mind's eye.

It should be different for us as Christians - but is it? My friend and her husband, who work with overseas students, aim to have 100 unbelievers in their home every year! Her example and
Ben's talk challenged me to choose compassion over control, comfort and convenience, and to work harder at overcoming the splendid isolation of the modern home.

brenner_ron and icopythat from flickr

Carmelina Read on why we need more stress

I spent a wonderful day on Saturday with the women from Bundoora Presbyterian Church. I got to lead a seminar (oh, frabjous day!) on spiritual disciplines (which will probably turn into a series on this blog some time) and even better, I got to hang out with Carmelina Read (oh, frabjouser day) and hear her talk on prayer from Equip last year (it's even better the second time!) and a great new talk she's written on stress. It's her talk on stress I want to tell you about now.

What would you expect from a talk about stress? Some handy hints about how to overcome stress? A new resolve to reduce stress in your life?

What you probably wouldn't expect to be told is that you need more stress.

But for me, and, I suspect, for many of the women who listened to Carmelina's talk, it wasn't so much the helpful hints about how to overcome stress that were useful - although they were very useful! - as the reminder that some stress is actually good!

Good? Huh? Aren't seminars on stress supposed to tell you how to get rid of it?!

No, because there's a kind of stress we should have more of in our lives. The kind of stress which comes from sharing the gospel. The kind of stress you feel when friends don't like you quite as much because you talk about Jesus. The kind of stress that missionaries experience every day when, "compelled by the love of Christ", they leave comfortable Western lives to bring Christ's love to others (2 Cor 5:14).

No, because there was a kind of stress which Paul felt every day. He experienced "conflicts on the outside, fears within" in the face of beatings, hunger, thirst, danger, cold, labour and even death as he talked about Jesus. He felt "great sorrow and unceasing anguish" for those who hadn't come to Christ. He worried over those he had brought to Christ with "great distress and anguish of heart and with many tears" as he faced "daily the pressure" of his "concern for all the churches". (2 Cor 4:7-12, 11:23-29, 5:20, 7:5, Rom 9:1-4, 2 Cor 2:4, 11:28-29, Gal 4:11, 1 Thess 3:5)

Gospel stress: now there's a kind of stress we could do with more of!

Carmelina made a resolution a year ago: that her non-Christian friends like her less by the end of the year! Not because she's insensitive and overbearing in how she talks about her faith, but because she just can't shut up about Jesus - you know, in that "today I was reading this and this struck me..." kind of way. She said she would rather that a friend said this about her (even complainingly!) than they not hear the gospel at all.

It's a scary resolution, but one worth making.

image is from stock.xchng

Sandy Grant on a cure for gospel tongue-tie

I want to share a comment from Sandy Grant which I received on my post A cure for gospel tongue-tie at Sola Panel yesterday. What he says is so helpful that I'm going to add part of it to yesterday's post, with thanks to Sandy, for anyone who's trawling through this blog for posts on evangelism.

He inspired me to follow up on those conversations when I go away thinking, "If only I said ...". I follow up on unresolved issues when I lead Bible studies or mentor someone, so why not with my friends who don't know Jesus?

He says:

Asking questions and being genuinely interested is absolutely right.

I also think practice - rehearsal even - is a key point. Chappo made this point somewhere, when he explained that for a year, as a younger man, he and a friend had read the editorial in the daily paper and rung each other and discussed whether either could think of anything Christian to say about the topic of the day. This meant they were more likely to be ready for topics that were likely to be under current discussion. It was a form of rehearsal.

Col 4:5 says (in the NIV) to “make the most of every opportunity”. I have tried to make the most of every missed opportunity, and like you, there have been a few!

If you postmortem what you could have said, then you are more ready for next time a similar thing is said.

But I would add an extra step. Sometimes it will be appropriate to go back to the person and say,

You know what you said about X the other day, I didn’t know what to say, but I couldn’t get it out of my head, and here’s what’s come to me since.

or
I was thinking more about what you said yesterday, and here’s something I’ve found helpful [or my minister or friend recommended] in reading on the topic… Are you interested in having a copy?

It won’t always be suitable, but going back to the person shows you really take them seriously and they got you thinking. I suspect many people will respect that. (But don’t over do it!)

a cure for gospel tongue-tie

Tongue-tied adj. unable to speak. Synonyms: aghast, amazed, astounded, at a loss for words, bashful, choked up, dazed, dumbfounded, dumbstruck, garbled, inarticulate, mum, mute, shocked, shy, silent, speechless, stammering, uncommunicative, voiceless, obstructed.

I know people who talk about the gospel in a relaxed, friendly, winsome way. I'm not one of them.

I'm not bad at ‘God talk’, as they call it in the Two Ways to Live Training Course. I let people know that I'm a Christian, I tell them my husband is in Christian work, and I talk about praying for my children. I think this is supposed to produce gospel opportunities, but that's usually as far as it goes.

When an opportunity does come up in conversation, my mouth seizes up. I read suggested dialogues, like John Chapman's ‘Bus stop graffiti’, and I groan inwardly in despair. Put me in a situation like this and my brain races, my heart thumps and the moment slips away. If I say anything, I sound so nervous, we're both relieved to move onto a new topic. Later, of course, a thousand witty, helpful, penetrating responses occur to me.

I pray for courage, boldness and the words to say. I feel prepared (1 Pet 3:14-16)—I've learned a gospel outline, I can explain it in my own words, and I'm confident about responding to questions (although people seldom ask them!). I make friends with neighbours and school mums, and I try to love them, but in conversation, I suffer from gospel tongue-tie.

Every couple of months, I spend quality time with my hairdresser. We get along really well, and we've had a few chats around the edges of what we believe. I've learned so much from her about how to get past the block on my tongue. I've also learned a lot from Christian friends who don't see themselves as great evangelists.

So, from one inept evangelist to another, for those of you who find it hard to share the gospel, here's some things I've found helpful recently in overcoming gospel tongue-tie:

• I practise what I want to say. It sounds counterintuitive, but when I rehearse what to say before a conversation, I'm more natural and relaxed. I know my friends will ask how I'm going, so I plan an answer. Last year, my father-in-law died. While I was driving to meet my friend, I thought of what to say, and practised it out loud: “He trusted in Jesus, so he knew he was going to heaven”. I felt silly, and people driving past me must have wondered who I was talking to, but my friend and I had a longer chat about Christianity than ever before.
• I ask questions. It's easy to treat people as projects, not people. I want to love my friend by hearing her point of view. How can I speak the gospel into her life if I don't know her? Why should she listen to me if I never listen to her? I'd like to learn to ask more questions. “What do you find helpful about doing yoga?” “When you say I'm the only Christian you know, how do you see that as different from being Catholic?” “What's happened to make you dislike religion so much?”
• I get to know her issues so that I can respond to them. I might be tongue-tied when someone talks about bus stop graffiti, but my friend talks a lot about how much she hates religion. Inevitably, I can't think of anything to say, so I've come up with some possible responses: “Jesus hated religion too. He gave religious people a really hard time!” “Yes, I hate religion as well. God isn't interested in empty rituals; he wants a real relationship with us.” “God agrees with you. He doesn't just want us to give him a bit of time at Easter, he wants us to serve him 100 per cent all the time”. I'll say it until it sounds like something I could say.
• I'd like to follow up on our conversations. Sandy Grant suggests, "Sometimes it will be appropriate to go back to the person and say,
  You know what you said about X the other day, I didn’t know what to say, but I couldn’t get it out of my head, and here’s what’s come to me since.
  or
  I was thinking more about what you said yesterday, and here’s something I’ve found helpful [or my minister or friend recommended] in reading on the topic… Are you interested in having a copy?
  It won’t always be suitable, but going back to the person shows you really take them seriously and they got you thinking. I suspect many people will respect that. (But don’t over do it!)"

In the end, none of these conversation starters is a substitute for getting to know the God of grace. Only his love on the cross can compel me to share it freely and fearlessly with others. Only as God helps me to love people more than I fear them will I begin to overcome gospel tongue-tie. It's the gospel that changes people's hearts; I need to open my mouth and start sharing it.

I sometimes wonder why God put me in my friends' lives; didn't he realize that someone else would do a far better job? But I can trust God's wisdom in choosing me to be Christ's representative to my particular friends and neighbours. I can trust his power to work in people's hearts through the gospel, even when the only Christian my friend knows is an inept evangelist—me.

What have you learned about overcoming gospel tongue-tie?

First published at Sola Panel.

image is from Katie Tegtmeyer at flickr.com

the fires: how shall we respond?

Every morning I wake up and it's ok, until with a dull thud it comes back to me. Image after image of people who died in the fires. Rows of army tents with homeless people staying in them. Entire communities which have been wiped out.

My friend whose parents lost their house. A family known to me who died in their car. A school child who lost her parents and sister.

How can we respond to a tragedy like this? I've been thinking about this ever since I heard the news. How have you responded? Here's some of the ways I'm trying to respond:

• Grieve. One of the wonderful things about God's word is that it doesn't pretend disaster isn't disaster. It doesn't supply easy, bandaid answers, as Job's friends found out. It's right to grieve. It's right to lament. It's right to ask God "why?", if that's what's in our hearts. God is big enough for our pain and questions.
• Express compassion. If I know people who are grieving, I can grieve with them. I can walk with them through their grief. I can "mourn with those who mourn" (Rom 12:14). If nothing else, at least I can send a card, or say "I'm so sorry". But true compassion doesn't stop with words. It reaches out with practical help and generous giving (Jam 2:15-16). Meals, a place to stay, household items, the loan of a car, money: I know people helping in many different ways. How I give depends on what I have and my relationship to those in need.
• Rethink my priorities. When I woke up last Monday, I lay and thought about what it would be like to lose our home: not so much the bricks and mortar, but irreplaceable small treasures like photos, the children's artwork, precious objects handed down from my parents. One day all this will be taken from me as surely as it has from those who've lost their homes. Do I value these things too highly (Matt 6:19-21; Luke 12:13-21)? Our old TV is pretty awful, and we were going to buy a new one. That doesn't seem so important now.
• Teach my children. Our children have watched the news with us during the last few days, so they know what's been happening. We've talked with them about suffering and how to understand it. We've encouraged them to be generous with their pocket money. We've prayed with them. I was helped by Nicole's suggestions about how to talk with kids about disaster.
• Be prepared to speak (1 Pet 3:15-16). In Melbourne at the moment, every second conversation is about the fire. It's hard to know how to speak about Jesus in a situation like this, because it's not the time to present a theology of suffering. Perhaps I could speak of Christian friends whose hope for a home in heaven comforts them after losing their home. Perhaps, if my friend is asking "why?", I could acknowledge my own uncertainty, and how I've learned to trust God when I can't understand, because I've seen the immensity of his love in the death of his Son. I would love to hear your ideas about what to say.
• Take refuge in Christ. Tragedy is a terrible warning sign of the even more terrible judgement to come (Rev 8-11, Mark 13, Luke 13:1-5). In a bushfire, the only safe place is that which has already been burned by the flames. When God brings his just judgement again our rejection of him, the only safe place is Jesus, who took God's judgement on himself. May what's happened drive us and others to Christ.
• Pray. Our church has encouraged us to pray:

1. for comfort and support for those who have lost family and property
2. for the provision of housing and food and schooling to those in need
3. praise and strength for those who continue to fight the fires
4. thanks for the preservation of so many people who escaped
5. that God will bring good from this including improved procedures for future fires
6. and that all who escaped from the flames will recognise the need to also escape from judgement by reconciling with God in Christ

I thank God that his word gives us words of lament for times like this. That it gives us a heart and hands to reach out in compassion. That it gives us hope for a home which can't be destroyed (John 14:1-4) and hope for a day when God will wipe every tear from our eyes (Rev 21:4). I thank God that those who trust in Jesus know that, whatever and whoever else we lose, we cannot lose him.

evangelicals, emotions and embarrassment

Reformed evangelicals often seem a little embarrassed about expressing emotion. Other forms of Christianity have other weaknesses, including an over-emphasis on emotion, but this is ours.

So while we're on the topic of feelings, here's a fantastic quote from Mike Raiter about evangelicalism:

Haven’t you ever wondered…why we make more of what we believe than whom we trust? We are in love with the gospel, but feel a little uncomfortable with Jesus… It is gospel, gospel, gospel, but where is Jesus? … Sometimes, evangelical Christians talk about their faith as if it is essentially a creed we subscribe to, rather than a person we belong to…You could easily get the impression that the chief end of man is to “read the Bible and study it forever”…

We sing to one another the most sublime and thrilling truths imaginable. Yet, so often, we do so with little fervour or evident intellectual or emotional engagement…It is tragic to hear sermons on, say, the seriousness of sin, the majesty of Jesus, the assurance of salvation, the expectation of glory, delivered with all the passion one might show in giving street directions to a passing motorist… I expect that we will sing in heaven because our first response on beholding the glory of God will not be to break up into discussion groups, but to break out into adoration and praise.

Mike Raiter Stirrings of the Soul 228-30, 247.

praying in hope

I am writing this with tears of joy in my eyes. My friend's mother has become a Christian! How wonderful that her faithful prayers for her mum have been answered, and we will spend eternity together rejoicing in Jesus!

Often I forget to pray for people to become Christians. Or I pray, because I know I'm supposed to, but not with any great hope or passion. Mentally, I've put them in the "too hard" basket, which is where I would have put this girl's mum.

But God's Spirit is powerful. He convicts our hard hearts of sin, and opens our blind eyes to the beauty of Jesus. How dare I question his love, power and willingness to save?

I have been given renewed hope to pray. To pray for my neighbours, my relatives, my hairdresser. To pray for the mums I chat with at school and kinder. To pray that our conversations would include many opportunities to speak about my hope in Jesus. To pray for patience to listen, courage to speak, and the words to say.

To pray, knowing that we have a great God who answers prayer, who delights to save unlikely people like you and me.

Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful. ... Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone. Colossians 4:2, 5-6