in fear, for his glory

This post is, oh, only about 3 months out of date. But hey, a lot has happened since I wrote it. Anyhow, here it is.

In a month or two I will be giving my first conference talk.

I feel a bit like Paul, if you will allow me to rip a verse out of context: "I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling" (1 Cor 2:3).

Except in my case the fear and trembling come from less godly motivations. I want to succeed. I want this event to succeed. I want to impress people. I want them to like, respect, admire me. I could go on - I'm a type A person! My ambitions are boundless! - but I'd embarrass myself (like I already haven't) and you, too.

My gut clenches; my mind hazes over. People say, "You'll be great!" - my mother, who's not at all one-sided, plus a few faithful friends who have far more respect for me than I deserve - and all I can think is, "Now there's further to fall!". I remind myself that it's a small conference among friends; but it doesn't really help.

There's just one thing that helps. It's one of my favourite Bible passages, Philippians 2:1-11. It keeps coming into my head, driven by the Spirit. When I feel the fear welling up, I repeat to myself (and yes, this is pretty much the 1984 version of the NIV, 'cos my brain is stuck there):

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit ...

Selfish ambition. Vain conceit. Sums up the worst of my motivations quite nicely.

And the alternative:

...but in humility consider others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but to the interests of others. You attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.

Putting others' interests above my own. Valuing them more than myself. Doing this for their sake, not mine.

And then the model, Jesus Christ:

Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being found in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name ...

This isn't about me. It never was. It's about me laying down my life for the sake of others. And if, in the process, I get cold toes and a wriggly tummy, well, that's a small price to pay.

I just pray I can forget myself and serve others for the sake of Christ. Not for my own glory, but for his:

... that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:1-11)

For his glory.

God gives the growth (a reflection on 17 years)

Seventeen years ago, I walked into the chaplaincy office at a university in Melbourne.

I'd just been given a job: the first staffworker at a very young Christian university group. There was a chaplain (male), a part-time staffworker (me), 5 committed members, an old chaplaincy building, and a few rooms that were ours for the booking. Those were our resources.

At our main meetings, we'd get 20 people, maybe 30 on a good day. I might be exaggerating the numbers. I remember the hard work of sitting next to strangers and welcoming them and following them up.

I mentored 3 girls in those first years. A year or two later, the chaplain left, and my husband took over the ministry. Six months later, I left to have the first of 4 children, and the work slowly grew.

That was then.

This is now.

Last Saturday, I walked into our annual dinner. My husband, Steve, was supposed to be there - he leads the ministry, after all - but he was home and voiceless with the flu. I took my two oldest children instead. We had trouble finding the venue, so we arrived late, hot-faced and sore-footed.

I munched on my entree and listened to Peter Adam speak about Jesus the Word of God, and the wonder that is university student groups still standing up for the truth when so many evangelical groups have fallen by the wayside.

There were a few tears in the eyes of our staffworkers - I'm sure I saw them! - as they said goodbye, one at a time, to a bunch of shaggy-haired (male) and well-dressed (female) graduates, who have served so well while they've been with us these few years.

A young man spoke about how he's learned to stand up for his faith. A young women talked about how she's learned to put God's kingdom before her own. We farewelled a student who came to Christ and was baptized last year, now headed back to her own country.

Seated at the tables were 150 people: students, parents, supporters. More on the waiting list, who couldn't fit in the room (we'd better book a bigger venue next year). When I got home, I asked Steve how many people are involved in the group this year, and he told me it's about 120. A bit of a contrast to the tiny group we started with 17 years ago.

And it's not just the numbers.

What I saw last Saturday were two men - my husband's co-workers - leading the meeting in his absence, and doing it seamlessly. Two men my husband helped to train. It was good to know that, under God, we have more than replaced ourselves. It felt like a glimpse of the future: one day, when we leave, the work will go on.

Their wives sat at the tables, faithful women who were also part of our ministry. One of them was among the first 3 women I mentored. Now they help their husbands, offer hospitality to students, pass on their wisdom to younger women, and teach and train their children. Another generation raised to know Jesus.

I looked around and saw many others we taught and trained. One couple planted a church last year. A few lead ministries in other churches. Lots study at theology colleges. Some serve in overseas mission. Many share their faith in the workplace. Most serve God in local churches, using skills picked up at uni.

God's work goes out, to times and places we will never see.

My husband works hard, and comes home tired. He's not one to see beyond the place he's in. Yet on Saturday night I was given a glimpse of the God-given impact of the ministry we've poured ourselves into. It's not always easy to see it, here at home, here on the support team; but last week I saw it. I have seldom been more encouraged.

Others planted, we watered, but God gives the growth (1 Cor 3:6). Praise be to him.

keeping the gospel in your sights in pastoral ministry (or just in life, really)

flickr: Prayer by Chris Yarzab

Late last year, our ministry team looked at 1 Timothy 3 and 4.  We noticed how, smack bang in the middle of these chapters on Christian leadership, is “the mystery of godliness”: that is, Christ our Saviour (1 Tim 3:16 cf. 4:10). In other words, to be faithful in pastoral ministry, you have to keep your eyes on Jesus. You have to fight to keep your eyes on Jesus.

And what a fight you will have on your hands.

I start the year with good intentions. This year I won’t get so swallowed up by everything that needs to be done that I’ll forget the gospel. But by the end of the year I’m in coping mode, and when I’m in coping mode, the gospel is that last thing to come to mind. In this desperate race to the finish line, surely it’s my own efforts that will get me there. If I just knuckle down and get these Bible studies written. If I stay in control. If I keep on top of things. If I wake up earlier, go to bed later. If I…

And in all that busyness, the gospel slips from view, and I’m on a treadmill, endlessly running to keep up.

So how do you keep your eyes on the gospel? Our leadership group brainstormed and came up with some ideas. Here are eleven of them (I've included a few of my own).

• Read the Bible for the sake of your own soul. I try to read something every day that has nothing to do with preparing anything. Or when I must read to prepare – and let’s face it, there are times like this – then I try to turn what I read into reflection, repentance, praise and prayer. At the moment I’m preparing Colossians, and I’ve found it helpful to add a psalm to my Bible reading each morning. 
• Do evangelism. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that reminds me of the wonder of the gospel like seeing it light up someone else’s eyes for the first time. As I read a gospel with a friend, the very passages that seem odd or embarrassing to me are the ones that impact her most deeply, and I’m convicted afresh of the beauty and power of the gospel. 
• Pray. Prayerlessness is a vicious cycle: I don’t pray because I’m trying to do things in my own strength; then I have to do things in my own strength because I’m not praying; and, before long, I’m running to keep up, God is out of the picture, and it’s all about my own efforts to stay in control. Prayer reminds me that it’s God’s grace that changes people, not me. 
• Invite others to teach and admonish you (Col 3:16; Heb 10:24-25; James 5:16). It’s good to confess our struggles to wise, mature believers who hold us to account. Over the years, I’ve prayed with a couple of friends who know me well, comfort and challenge me, and keep my eyes on the goal. I meet with another group of women to pray for our non-Christian friends; this keeps us sharp and gospel-focussed. 
• Meditate on the gospel. Some ways to bring the gospel to mind include reading, memorizing, meditating on and praying through Bible passages about Jesus;1 listening to gospel-centred music;2 and deliberately making the cross and resurrection part of our daily thanksgiving and prayer. 
• Let life and leadership be cross-shaped. Like our Lord, instead of lording it over others, we serve (Mk 10:42-45). We choose humility over pride and ambition (Phil 2:3-11). We work hard and endure patiently (2 Tim 2:1-6; 1 Pet 2:20-25). We lay down our lives in love (1 Jn 3:16; 4:7-12). Our leadership becomes a living mnemonic, a reminder to us and others of the cross. And it’s a wonderful, non-vicious spiral: we live this way because of the cross, and living this way, are driven back to the cross; for who can live like this apart from the strengthening grace of God? (2 Cor 4:7-12; Phil 4:11-13; 2 Tim 2:1-6) 
• Rest. Every night my head hits the pillow, I’m reminded that I am not God, who alone ‘neither slumbers nor sleeps’ (Ps 121:3-4). A regular day’s rest, enjoying God’s good world and his gift of family and friends, reminds us that God sustains our life and provides all good things. Over-busyness, of course, has the opposite affect: it’s a symptom of I’m-running-the-universe disease, and leads to burn-out and loss of energy and purpose. 
• Read books about the gospel. I aim to read about one a year. At the moment, I’m slowly working my way through Tim Keller's King’s Cross. Others that have helped me are John Stott’s The Cross of Christ, CJ Mahney's The Cross-Centred Life, and Nancy Guthrie's Jesus Keep Me Near the Cross.3 
• Set aside a few regular hours for deeper reflection and prayer. Once a week or once a month, I sit in a cafe with an open Bible, a Christian book that I reserve just for this time, and a journal to write down thoughts and prayers; then I go for a long walk and pray. It keeps me refreshed and ready to serve, and the act of writing orders my thoughts and re-orients them to the gospel. 
• Make teaching gospel-centred. Not in a forced “every Bible study has to end with Jesus” kind of way. But the gospel should be where God’s word drives us. I don’t think I’ve really understood a Bible passage until it brings me back to the gospel naturally, of its own accord, by its own route. 
• Keep training and leadership gospel-centred. My husband, who heads a ministry team, makes sure that every staff meeting includes time, not just for administration, but also for encouraging each other from the Bible, praying, and discussing big issues from God’s word. It’s a great model for keeping the gospel on the agenda.

Christian ministry is hard, hard labour. It’s a marathon, not a sprint; but sometimes we can feel like we are sprinting! In the constant busyness and exhaustion, it’s tempting to turn to other things besides the gospel for comfort, like alcohol or inappropriate intimacy. It’s tempting to think we can do it all ourselves, until we crash and join the long list of those who’ve left pastoral ministry. I pray that we can remember God’s words to us:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted. (Heb 12:1-3)

How do you keep your eyes on the gospel?


1. You’ll find some suggested passages and methods for memorization in my posts a three-course banquet of Bible memorization and A smorgasbord of Bible memorization methods.
2. For example, Sovereign Grace’s Songs for the Cross Centred Life.
3. Others I’d like to read include Don Carson’s The Cross and Christian Ministry; Steve Jeffery, Michael Ovey and Andrew Sach’s Pierced for our Transgressions; and JI Packer and Mark Dever’s In My Place Condemned He Stood. ↩

online meanderings for pastors and teachers

Three liberating limitations in ministry - A wonderful little post, worth reading every word. Zack Eswine.

A 3-part plan for pastoral ministry - 1. Study God’s word. 2. Do it. 3. Teach it to his people. "A failure in any one of those three areas will prove disastrous over the long haul." Michael McKinley.

Disarm your hearers - Anticipate logical, emotional and practical resistance. Good advice for Bible teachers. David Murray.

4 reasons men don't read books and how pastors can help. Tony Reinke.

3 common areas of neglect in a pastor's life - I'm not a pastor, but I found this convicting. Brian Croft.

10 questions about preaching answered by Tim Chester. There are lots of good insights in this interview.

6 tips on how to deliver a conference paper - Not that I'm ever likely to. But I like this. Fred Sanders with Justin Taylor.

"Always repeat the first sentence of a new point three times,” said Dave. “But all that repeating will make my talk too long,” I replied. “Exactly,” said Dave. “Unless you take out all the stuff that shouldn’t be there, you’re delivering good essays instead of good sermons.” Dave Richie

To see the rest of my links, click here (Facebook) or here.

the joy of service (2)

In a recent post, The joy of service, I wrote about the need to serve practically when all you want to do is teach. Karen asked a great question: “Does it work the other way, Jean–when you’re good at (and often prefer) to stuff envelopes, stack chairs and wash dishes, but the thought of leading Bible study fills you with extreme terror?” 

Here’s The joy of service re-written (with apologies) for such a person. Because, yes, I have friends who lead Bible studies even though it terrifies them. And, yes, it works both ways.

I’m no up-the-front servant. My love is given to behind-the-scenes ministries: cooking a meal for a friend, stacking chairs, organising events. If I’m honest, I also love the safety of this kind of ministry. There: I’ve said it.

The word-y roles, the out-there roles, the people-can-see-me roles: they don’t come naturally to me. Sitting next to a stranger at church, reading the Bible during the service, welcoming newcomers, leading a small group, walking into a room full of people: I try to avoid these things. I have to fight down my terror as I do them. I don’t like this about myself, but it’s true.

I know this isn’t good enough. I know that to stuff envelopes and avoid people is as far from our Lord’s example as hell from heaven. And so picture, if you will, a recent morning at our church. The usual leaders aren’t there, so I sit with people I don’t know. When we split into small groups to pray after the sermon, I find myself leading the prayers.

Then there’s this moment. This crystal-clear, earth-touches-heaven, joy-filled moment. As I say a stumbling prayer for one of the members of the group, it’s as if I’m speaking Christ’s words on his behalf. If it was Paul’s privilege to suffer with him, it’s mine to serve with him.1 Looking at this group of strangers, awkward with unspoken fears, I touch the tiniest edge of what it meant for him to serve.

The One with the right to a universe of worship gave up his own interests, his right to equality with God, and made himself nothing. The King of heaven and earth got off a chair, tied a towel around his waist, and knelt to wash his follower’s feet. God’s own Son was stripped naked and hung on a cross, abandoned between earth and heaven, bleeding out his life for his bride.2

Leading a group in prayer is just a baby-step as I follow in his footsteps. But if so much joy can be found in such a simple task, I wonder what else we miss out on when we refuse to serve.


1. Romans 8:17; Colossians 1:24; John 13:14-17
2. Philippians 2:1-11; John 13:1-17; Mark 10:35-45

This post first appeared at The Briefing.

image is by HidingHeart at flickr

the joy of service

I’m no behind-the-scenes servant. My love is given to wordy ministries: the nervous plunge when I teach a group of women, the energy that sparkles in a small group, the light in a friend’s eyes when God’s truth sinks in. If I’m honest, I also love the recognition that comes with this kind of ministry. There: I’ve said it.

The humble roles, the practical roles, the self-effacing roles: they don’t come naturally to me. Setting up for a meeting, cooking for an event, serving food, running crèche, stuffing envelopes: these mundane tasks aren’t on my bucket list. I have to fight my inner whinger as I do them. I don’t like this about myself, but it’s true.

I know this isn’t good enough. I know that to teach the Bible and refuse to stack chairs is as far from our Lord’s example as hell from heaven. And so picture, if you will, a recent dinner at our church. My friend who usually organises our meals isn’t there, so my husband and I set out casseroles and collect plates and scrub them clean.

Then there’s this moment. This crystal-clear, earth-touches-heaven, joy-filled moment. As I wash the dishes, it’s as if Christ’s hands are mine and mine his. If it was Paul’s privilege to suffer with him, it’s mine to serve with him.1 Hands plunged into soapy water, the grit and grease of food scraps on my fingers, I touch the tiniest edge of what it meant for him to serve.

The One with the right to a universe of worship gave up his own interests, his right to equality with God, and made himself nothing. The King of heaven and earth got off a chair, tied a towel around his waist, and knelt to wash his follower’s feet. God’s own Son was stripped naked and hung on a cross, abandoned between earth and heaven, bleeding out his life for his bride.2

Washing dishes is just a baby-step as I follow in his footsteps. But if so much joy can be found in such a simple task, I wonder what else we miss out on when we refuse to serve.


1. Romans 8:17; Colossians 1:24; John 13:14-17
2. Philippians 2:1-11; John 13:1-17; Mark 10:35-45

This post first appeared at The Briefing.

image is by UggBoy at flickr

this ministry thing

The mornings you can't string two thoughts together even though you have a Bible study to lead in 10 minutes.

The shaking in your limbs when you explain the gospel to a friend, and you don't know how it's possible, but it seems she's beginning to understand.

The realisation, weeks later, that this is going to take time.

The day 10 people come to your Bible study, and there's energy and enthusiasm and laughter in the room.

The day only 2 people come, and you're able to help them far more than you could if there were others there.

The times you drag your feet to yet another meeting when you want to go home, curl up in a ball, and go to sleep.

The hour when a mentoring relationship comes together and you both realise how much you mean to each other and how much you're learning.

The same mentoring relationship coming to an end a week later.

Seeing how differently God's thoughts flow through the mind of a co-worker, and learning to see thing differently yourself.

The hole that's left behind when that friend and co-worker leaves.

Watching people you've trained, years later, serving Jesus faithfully and helping others know and grow in him.

That precious moment when the light dawns in your Christian sister's face and she gets assurance - finally gets it! - for the very first time.

Ministry.

"What does he do all day?" "Do you work?"

When your husband or you are in vocational ministry, it's hard for the rest of the world to know what's really going on.

Often, I get the sense that people in "real" jobs are wondering, "What exactly does he do all day?". I feel like saying (truthfully), "He works really hard!". And I'm not alone. (Now I think about it, it's a lot like people asking me, a stay-at-home-mum, "Do you work?".)

This quote reminded me that it doesn't really matter whether people know exactly what my husband or I do all day (although I agree with Jenny that it can be helpful to let them know). What matters is Jesus' approval. From him alone comes our contentment and joy.

The only thing, in the end, that can truly satisfy the pastor’s heart is Christ’s, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” In other words, pastors, indeed all Christians, must seek contentment in Christ and not the approval of man. If pastors thrive off of the recognition of their congregation, they will quickly run out of spiritual energy and motivation. But if his sole source of contentment comes from Christ, then when recognition and gifts come, he will give thanks, and when no one but Christ recognizes his sacrifice and service, he will give thanks. Therein lies the contented heart, and therein lies the heart of a pastor.

You can read the rest here.

devoted to ministry and prayer

You know those times when you read a Bible passage so familiar that you barely see it any more? Then a word or phrase jumps out at you, your perspective shifts, and you see it clearly. It’s like those 3D puzzles where the picture suddenly comes into focus.

I’ve been leading some studies on Acts. We’re given an idyllic picture of the first Christians two times over, just in case we didn’t get it the first time (Acts 2:42-47; 4:32-37). They prayed. They listened to the apostles’ teaching. They ate together. They sold their possessions and cared for those among them who were in need. Ananias and Sapphira spoil the picture a little (Acts 5:1-11), but the general impression is of harmonious fellowship.

Then we come to the sixth chapter of Acts, and suddenly things aren’t so rosy. One bunch of Christians is neglecting another in the distribution of food. The twelve apostles solve the problem by appointing seven deacons to oversee the process. But it’s the reason for this that really caught my attention:

And the twelve summoned the full number of the disciples and said, “It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to serve tables. Therefore, brothers, pick out from among you seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we will appoint to this duty. But we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word. (Acts 6:2-4)

There are two things that struck me about these verses. The first is how much I’d like to say, next time I’m asked to cook for a church event, or five o’clock approaches and I have to pull together a meal for my family, “I’m sorry, I can’t serve tables, I have to devote myself to the ministry of the word.” (You’ll be glad to know I haven’t given into the temptation yet; after all, cooking is one of my responsibilities, and these days I even enjoy it.) The second is that, when God called the apostles to spread the news about Jesus (Acts 1:8), they saw this as involving two main tasks: prayer and the ministry of the word. They even mentioned prayer first.

You only have to look at the letters of Paul, that apostle “untimely born” (1 Cor 15:8), to see it’s true. He prays for all the Christians he can, including those he’s never met. He prays for their knowledge of God, their growth in the faith, their endurance in suffering. He does this every day, night and day, always, constantly, continually, ceaselessly, without stopping, whenever he thinks of them (Rom 1:9-10; Eph 1:15-23, 3:14-21; Phil 1:3-11; Col 1:3, 9-14; 1 Thess 1:2, 3:10; 2 Thess 1:11-12; 2 Tim 1:5; 2 Tim 1:3; Philem 1:4-7). Of all of us, surely Paul could say, “I’m sorry, I’ve got more important things to do than to pray. God has called me to the ministry of the word” (Acts 9:15; 1 Tim 2:7). He had enough to do, what with preaching and tent-making and living in peoples’ homes as an itinerant evangelist (Acts 18:3; 1 Thess 2:9). Yet it’s clear that he spent much time in prayer, and not just any old prayer. For Paul, praying wasn’t the last item on a to-do list he never quite got through: it was heartfelt, strenuous, unremitting work (1 Thess 3:10 cf Col 4:12).

What about us? How do our priorities compare to Paul’s? We may be “ministers of the word” or we may serve in other ways, but do we pray for those we teach and serve? Do I pray for my children as well as teach them the truth about God, or am I too busy cooking and cleaning and heading off tantrums? Does the average pastor give focussed time to praying for the people in his congregation, or is he too busy writing sermons, visiting people and running church events? What about Bible study leaders, Sunday school teachers, and youth group leaders? What about the rest of us, to whom God has given the responsibility of speaking his word into each others’ lives (Col 3:16)? What about those with ministries of evangelism or giving or leading (Rom 12:4-7; 1 Pet 4:10-11)? Do we pray? Are we devoted to prayer? Or do we say, by our actions and choices, that it’s really us running the show, growing Christians into maturity, helping our friends to know Jesus? We can do it without God, thank you very much! We don’t need help! People’s hearts are in our hands, to be changed by us – aren’t they? Well, aren’t they?

Lest we think that sweaty, struggling, unceasing prayer is only for important people like apostles, Paul holds us to a similar standard. Our prayers are to be four kinds of “all”:  all the time, all kinds of prayer, with all perseverance, for all believers (Eph 6:18). But how can we possibly pray in “everything”, “steadfastly”, “without ceasing”? (Phil 4:6; Col 4:2; 1 Thess 5:17 cf. 1 Tim 2:1; Luke 18:1) Clearly, we can’t pray consciously at every moment. But we can fall asleep and lie awake at night and get up in the morning and shower and love our babies and go to work and drive home and wait in traffic and walk in the door with prayer never far from our minds and our lips. We can pray our worries and our joys and our anger and our tears. We can keep praying for people even when our prayers seem to go unanswered. In some ways, prayer is as natural as breathing: the first expression of our thoughts and the first outlet for our emotions. But prayer is also earnest, dedicated labour, requiring attention and organisation and perseverance and, for most of us, the commitment to pray, with God’s help, for certain people at regular, planned times; not in obedience to a rule, but in the love that flows from God’s grace.¹

There will be seasons of life when long disciplined prayers are out of the question – for example, when we’re depressed or chronically ill or during the baby years – but we can still get into the habit of praying brief prayers whenever and however and for whoever. Perhaps we can stick the names of people to pray for on the wall or write them on a bookmark, associate prayers for particular people with different daily chores, or make a commitment to pray for people when we go on Facebook or before we spend time together or after we chat on the phone. We don’t have to pray in long blocks; we can pause to pray for a shorter time here and there throughout the day. When we’re really struggling to pray, we can ask others to pray with and for us. There’s no need to wait until we’ve got our act together, or we’re in the right frame of mind, or we have a clear time and space: our Father is there, ready to hear us, and all we need do is speak to him about the mess and the people and the need.

I know. You’ve heard it before. Prayer matters. God listens to the prayers of his people (Prov 15:29; 1 Pet 3:12; 1 Jn 5:14-15). He works powerfully when we pray (James 5:16-18). He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine (Eph 3:20 NIV). We say we know this. But I wonder how many of us, as we think about our Christian service, should write these two words on our hearts and minds, our diaries and calendars, and our Bibles and bathroom mirrors:

• ministry (or service: ministry just means service)
• prayer.

How would this change our priorities and shape the way we use our time?

1. I have a list of people that I gradually pray through over a number of days, as well as some individuals that I try to pray for daily (the beauty of this method is that it doesn’t matter if I skip a day); others use prayer cards or a journal or a diary. The key, I’ve found, is finding a simple, flexible method of organisation that works for you. ↩

This post first appeared at The Briefing

image is by notsogoodphotography from flickr

big M Ministry and little s service

The word ‘ministry’ just means ‘service’.¹ It's a fact I already knew, and perhaps one you know too; but earlier this year I came to see its implications.

I was walking along, praying about my Ministry. I was praying for the wisdom to know which Ministry to do, how much energy to put into certain Ministries, and when to stop one Ministry so I would have more energy for other Ministries. Suddenly, like a bolt to my brain from the rather grey sky (it was the fading end of a Melbourne winter), came the word ‘service’.

Ah. Service. It cuts out the middle-man, doesn't it? Instead of Me, Ministry, and You, there's just Me and You—and between us, love—a love which is more interested in your needs than in my grand plans for my Ministry.

When I think in terms of Ministry—with a capital M—here's what happens.

• I choose certain Ministries because they further my Gifts, my Visions, my Goals, my Passions, and my (although I don't use this word, of course) Ambitions.
• I choose my church because it fits my Ministry Plans.
• I regard people as interruptions; after all, I'm reserving my energy for my Ministry and for any Ministry Opportunities I may receive.
• I plan my Ministry with the precision of an American missile strike, constantly question whether I'm doing the right Ministry, and massage events so I'll be offered the Ministry I deserve want think is best.
• I worry about my Ministry: how many people are receiving it, whether it's growing, what its future will be, and how I'll cope if things fall apart.
• I'm filled with enthusiasm for exciting new Ministries—enthusiasm that fades as they become more familiar, more tiring and less interesting.
• I'm filled with exhaustion when it comes to old Ministries, and do them with dogged, grumbling perseverance (I'm good at dogged, grumbling perseverance) until I burn out and give up.

When I think in terms of service—with a small s—here's what happens.

• I'm set free from anxiety about my Gifts, my Visions, my Goals, my Passions, and whether I'll ever get a chance to use, pursue, achieve or fulfil them.
• I'm set free to look around my church and community, see what needs to be done, and do it, even when it doesn't play to my strengths, no-one ever sees me doing it, and I don't want to do it much anyway.
• I'm set free to serve you in love, right now, according to your needs, even if I'm not gifted to do what you need.
• I'm set free from worry about numbers, growth, popularity and success, for I remember that even if only two are gathered around God's word, his Spirit is at work in us.
• I'm set free to hold my plans for the future with an open hand, for it's God's plans which matter, not mine.
• I'm set free from having to pursue all my interests and use all my abilities (for God is incredibly profligate with his gifts), and can just get on with furthering God's kingdom.
• I'm set free to rest, for it's God's kingdom that's being built, not mine, and he hasn't advertised recently for another King or Saviour.
• I'm set free to follow the example of Jesus and pour myself out in loving service during times of hardship, discouragement, and fruitlessness, faithfully serving God in whatever situation he's placed me in.

Perhaps it's time I took a scalpel, cut the word ‘Ministry’ out of my vocabulary, and, instead, talked and thought in terms of the word ‘service’. Perhaps then I'd stop worrying about my Ministry (along with my Vision, Gifts, Goals, Passions and Plans) and just get on with serving God's people, and making Jesus known, whenever and however I can.

¹I'm talking about the Greek work diakonia, which is usually translated ‘ministry’ or ‘service’, and which turns up in places like 1 Corinthians 12:5 and Ephesians 4:12.

This post first appeared on Sola Panel yesterday.

images are from Bnet_efekt, Eva the Weaver and Leo Reynolds at flickr

busyness, burnout and the grace of God (11b) burnout

Here's the second half of my story of burnout.

December 2009. Summer holidays have begun, and I'm jogging. Pounding the beach, praying, tears streaming down my face. I never jog, but I run to escape the weight I'm carrying. I feel like a soldier training with a weighted pack - only in my pack is the despondency I can't shake, heavier than ever now the year's busyness has ended.

Early January, 2010. The summer holidays drag on, and I keep despondency at bay by taking the kids on outings and decluttering the house; but it's there, like a black pit, the moment I stop moving. I'm tired of this. I feel so weak, so useless. Why can't I do it all like other women? Why am I not strong enough?

January, 2010. I write in my journal, "I hate feeling like this. I won't deny it. I'd love to feel strong again - to feel joyous and energised and engaged. But it's when these things are taken away - the pride, the enthusiasm, the self-reliance - when all that is left is God and me, and I am weak and wrung out, like a floppy dishrag that's been used one too many times - that I realise my smallness and my need."

Late January, 2010. Steve gives me a day off, and I go to a local park and sit in my favourite cafe. All the discouragement and fear and self-doubt pour out in pages and pages of unreadable black scrawl. And then I pick up my Bible and read, "'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'" (2 Cor 12:9). I'm not strong, I'm weak: but God's treasure is in this jar of clay (2 Cor 4:7).

February, 2010. My feelings don't change until I talk to my friend, who has far more experience of depression than I do. She speaks 9 simple words: "You will feel excited about things again one day." Oddly, that's all I need to hear. It seems that just a whisper of hope is enough. I'm still uncertain of what I'm feeling, but from this point on, I'm no longer drowning.

March 2010. It's not easy to learn to learn to live without an idol; but I'm starting to realise that God's grace is here, waiting, on the other side. I write, "When depression is a reaction to loss, it has stages and an end. You have to let it run its course and have the courage to face the things it throws up at you."

God's grace meets me in the place where dreams die. His severe mercy has brought me to the end of myself, driving me to repentance and into the heart of his grace. Here, what I do doesn't give me meaning, only what he does for me.

image is by Jim Blob Blann from flickr

busyness, burnout and the grace of God (11a) burnout

I've told you about my 3 years of increasing busyness, as I took on every ministry opportunity I could. Today and tomorrow, I'd like to share with you what happened next.

Both roads - stress and burnout - lead ultimately to depression. The depression that comes from stress is due to the exhaustion of the adrenal system. On the other hand, the depression that comes from burnout is the loss of your vision, of your ideals.

8th July 2009. I'm leading a seminar at a women's conference. My friends advised me not to take this on after a crazily busy term, but I did it anyway. At the end of the conference I'm offered a fantastic ministry opportunity. I write in my journal, "It's the dream come true, the recognition I seek, the bigger stage. It's terrifying and exhilarating." I say 'yes', because how can I say 'no'?

9th July 2009. At 5.30 pm the day after the conference, the bottom drops out of my world. A 24 hour adrenalin high gives way to a deep low. This is normal. What isn't normal is the 2 months of despondency that follow. Every step - every smile - feels weighted. I write, "I'm longing for rest. I don't seem to be able to stop and get off this crazy ride."

Early August 2009. Instead of feeling excited about the fulfilment of my ministry ambitions, all I feel is dread. In my journal, I pray, "Thank you for the emptiness ... Thank you for reminding me that the idol I've set my heart on and schemed and worked so hard for is hollow and empty and can't deliver on its promises. ... You've stuffed me full and said, 'See!'"

Late August 2009. I go to a seminar on burnout, and the symptoms sound all too familiar: I'm drained, unenthused and distant from relationships. The solution, apparently, is to pull out of things and take some time to rest; so that's what I do. I cancel several ministry engagements - including the ministry opportunity I was so excited about - at some cost to my pride, and face a term with less things in it.

September 2009. It's odd how empty I feel. Relieved, yes, but empty. "Weariness. The blank nothingness that we call 'feeling flat'. Exhaustion. Disengagement." Without my busy plans for ministry, I'm living without a safety net. I've lost my dreams, my confidence, my sense of worth. Drained of enthusiasm, I'm unfamiliar to myself. If depression is a normal reaction to loss, then I'm living it.

October 2009. Earlier this year, I read the story of a middle-aged man who found that a red Ferrari didn't bring the happiness he longed for. Well, duh! But it lead to my own "duh!" moment: isn't ministry achievement just an idol painted in socially acceptable colours? In some ways, it's worse, because I'm taking something meant for God's glory and twisting it so it's about me.

November 2009. It's a busy month (I'm writing for Equip book club and Christmas is approaching) and, in the busyness, I manage to distance myself from the way I'm feeling - for a while.

Tomorrow: what happened next.

images are by LunaDiRimmel and -JosephB- from flickr

Romans 12:1-2 (4) how far will you go?

This is the final part of a 4-part summary of Steve Chong's talk on Romans 12:1-2, which God used to change my heart.

Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. Rom 12:1-2

We've seen that serving is our response to God's mercy.

Serving begins with getting my heart right before God. It begins with
1. getting my body ready ("offer your bodies as living sacrifices")
2. getting my heart ready ("be transformed by the renewing of your mind").

The temptation in Christian ministy is to want to climb the Christian corporate ladder: ordinary Christian to youth leader to theology college to full-time paid gospel worker (or whatever the ladder is for you). Our goal is to reach the top.

But the point is not to becomes a gospel worker (or a speaker, or a writer, or a blogger, or a small group leader, or even a respected older woman). The point is to serve God.

When we meet him, Jesus won't say, "Well done, good and faithful gospel worker". He'll say, "Well done, good and faithful servant".

Our example is the Son of Man, who came not to be served, but to serve and give his life as a ransom for many (Mk 10:45). Who said, "Not what I will, but what you will" (Mk 14:36). Who lived to please his Father.

How far will you go?

If I went back to bedrock and asked, "How can I be a living sacrifice? How can I serve? How can I please You?", how would it change my life? What would I give up? What would I do? These are the questions I've been asking myself.

Blogging is a good thing; but what if it's not the best thing? What if I could better serve Jesus another way? It's hard to see clearly when you're in the middle of it! Which is one reason I'm taking a break next year: to reflect on what God wants from me.

I've realised that, yes, I can give up blogging if I should be using this time and energy for something else. It's a ridiculously freeing realisation. I may well come back to blogging; but at least I'm not holding it tightly, unable to let go.

What are you holding on to?

the joy of giving

A few months ago, Steve and I loaned our car to a student so she could use it for ministry. It was involved in an accident.

Thankfully, no-one was hurt, but the side of the car was smashed in. It took 8 weeks to fix (parts take a long time to arrive from Japan!) but we now have our car back, as good as new (and smelling powerfully of car paint).

This small experience taught me so many things. Here's what I learned.

• When we heard about the accident, my first reaction was shock. No surprises there! But what was surprising was how quickly shock gave way to joy. What a privilege it is to suffer, even in a very small way, for Jesus, who suffered so much for us!
• We are blessed to have enough to loan, share and lose. What we own belongs to God, not to us: we're only loaning what is God's, and if it gets damaged or lost, it doesn't matter, for it wasn't ours in the first place. It's God's to do as he sees fit with.
• As he grows us, God reveals our idols and loosens our grip on them. Money, security, convenience: these things mean far more to me than they should, and I only realise this when they're taken away. This experience taught me to hold our possessions with an open hand.
• We were humbled by how God meets our needs through other Christians. We loaned our car; a friend anonymously paid the insurance excess; and another friend loaned us her car while ours was being fixed. We bear one another's burdens.
• God's providence is precise and loving. The exact 8 weeks our car was being fixed, a woman in my small group was in America, and she and her husband generously gave us the use of their car.
• It's easy to complain about the small inconveniences of being married to a man in ministry. But I've grown in appreciation for a husband who values generosity over possessions, who chooses to trust others rather then protect our stuff, and who prizes integrity highly - how often does an insurance company hear, "We take full responsibility"?!
• For good or ill, others are closely observing our attitudes and actions. One friend told me how much she's been encouraged by watching us respond to what happened.
• It's good for children to practise generosity, as it teaches them how to respond to the far greater gift of God's Son. When Thomas asked Steve why we loaned our car only to have it smashed, Steve answered, "God loaned his Son to us so that he could be smashed in our place." Amen!

This one small experience has brought so much growth and joy with it, that it makes me wonder why I ever steer away from more costly service. I thank God for the day our car was damaged. A smashed-in car is a very, very small price to pay for all God has taught us. Praise his name!

image is from MarcinMoga / Lolek at flickr

Romans 12:1-2 (1) in view of God's mercy

A month ago, I prayed a dangerous prayer: that God would make me single-hearted. I prayed desperately, with tears, all too aware of how double-hearted I am, how I want Jesus' glory but also my own. I prayed nervously, because this is the kind of prayer God delights to answer, and it's not always comfortable.

Three days later, God answered my prayer as I sat in an echoey hall and listened to a talk on Romans 12:1-2 by Steve Chong at MTS Challenge Victoria. I've already told you one of the results: how I'm taking a break from blogging so I can work out how best to serve God and make Jesus known.

But how did I arrive at this decision? In 4 short parts, during the next 4 weeks, I'd like to tell you about the impact the talk had on me, one phrase from Romans 12:1-2 at a time. Here's part 1.

Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. Romans 12:1-2

"in view of God's mercy"

We are not do-ers. We are receivers. We receive therefore we do. Everything we do, we do in view of God's mercy.

There are 2 things that are true of Christian service:

• service is always responding to what God has done
• service is always joining in on what God is doing.

Service is a bit like catching a wave. Surfing isn't about paddling as hard as you can. It's about getting in the right position to catch the wave when it comes. In the same way, service isn't about working as hard as I can to get it all done. It's about getting my heart ready for God to use me.

There's an incredible pull to make ministry all about me. My Bible talk, my small group, my mentoring relationship, my blog. But service isn't about me. It's about God.

I serve others in response to God's mercy to me in Jesus.

images is from stock.xchng

happy blog-day, and a break from blogging

It's that time again: my bloggy birthday (well, it's tomorrow, but I don't post on weekends, and I doubt you read then either). Three years into blogging, and I enjoy it as much as ever: putting my thoughts into words, writing about what God has taught me, and being encouraged and challenged by you.

It has its downside. The pressure (self-imposed) to produce something, the times I realise (whoops!) I forgot to write tomorrow's post, the time taken from other things, the vulnerability and uncertainty, the temptation to compare my blog with others: it's a cost worth paying, but only if this is worth doing.

Where am I at, 3 years into blogging? I heard a talk on Romans 12:1-2 recently (I'll tell you about it soon) which laid it on the line for me. I want to respond to God's mercy by giving myself to him as a living sacrifice, to bring him glory and make his Son known.

I'd like to make wise plans for the next 5 or 10 years so that I use my time, energy and gifts to glorify Jesus. Will this include blogging? I don't know. But I do know I need some time away from blogging to pray and find out.

After 12 years of raising young kids and 3 years of new ministries, I'm exhausted. So next year I'll share my husband's long service leave (which has been 12 years coming). I'll settle my oldest child into high school and my youngest into preschool, take a long family holiday, and build strong relationships for the teen years. I'll regroup, reflect and renew (the 3 Rs, as my friend puts it).

I'm planning to blog until the end of this year, God willing, then stop for a while - maybe 3 months, maybe 6 months. I'll pray about whether this is the best use of my time and energy, or if there's something else I should do. I have so many dreams and ideas, but who knows what God has in mind?

Taking time off is scary for a doer like me, and slowing down is already making me feel a little empty - which just shows how deeply I take my worth from what I do! But I'm not a doer, I'm a receiver of God's love and grace.

I'm praying that during my months of not-doing, God will teach me I don't need to achieve, get things right or prove myself, because Jesus has done it all for me. Only then will I be able to serve, not so I can feel worthwhile, but "in view of God's mercy" - his astounding, undeserved, unchanging grace to me in Jesus.

In the meantime, until the end of the year, I'll still be here, blogging. Happy blog-day!

images are from soapylovedeb and hyku from flickr

what I'm reading: The Trellis and the Vine

I've just finished The Trellis and the Vine by Colin Marshall and Tony Payne. And yes, it really does live up to all the hoo-hah. Any Christian leader would do well to read it; but it's a book for the rest of us too.

Most churches would be undone and remade by this book. It encourages us to stop focussing on programs (committees, events, budgets - the 'trellis') and, instead, to focus on growing people (the 'vine'):

...most churches need to make a conscious shift—away from erecting and maintaining structures, and towards growing people who are disciple-making disciples of Christ.

Pastors, then, become less service-leaders and managers, and more preachers and trainers. Steve and I have been running with this model for a long time, and we've seen the benefits, as people we've trained have gone on to grow their own disciple-making ministries.

So far so good. But I'm no pastor, so it's the implications of this book for "ordinary" Christians that really got to me. If the book has a central message for people like me, it's this:

The real work of God is people work - the prayer­ful speaking of his word by one person to another...To be a disciple is to be a disciple maker.

This I can do. I don't need a special "call" to ministry: I'm already called by God to be a disciple-making disciple, as I prayerfully speak God's word into the lives of neighbours, co-workers, family and friends. This is a call that demands no less of me than it does of a pastor or missionary:

It is time to say goodbye to our small and self-oriented ambitions, and to abandon ourselves to the cause of Christ and his gospel.

It's a call that will take everything I am and everything I have.

Quotes are from The Trellis and the Vine pp 17; 27, 43; 38.

what I'm reading: guest post from Deb about doing ministry when your options are limited

Well, it's not so much what I'm reading, as what Deb's reading. Thanks again, Deb, for some helpful words on ministry! She's speaking particularly to mums, but what she says is relevant to anyone who struggles to find time for ministry.

I think once you have children, you often have to get creative about ministry. When you are childless, the ministry options are much more open. You can be flexible about hours and no one but you is demanding an account of your time. Add a spouse, and then some kids, and the ministry options start to shrink. Or at least the old options that you've spent some years building up your skills in tend to be rubbed out for a season.

I came across a quote in Grudem's Biblical Foundations for Manhood and Womanhood once and it has often sprung into my mind in the years since I've had children. It is this:

With half the world’s population outside the reach of indigenous evangelism; with countless other lost people in those societies that have heard the gospel; with the stresses and miseries of sickness, malnutrition, homelessness, illiteracy, ignorance, aging, addiction, crime, incarceration, neuroses, and loneliness, no man or woman who feels a passion from God to make His grace known in word and deed need ever live without a fulfilling ministry for the glory of Christ and the good of this fallen world.

I've found that particularly encouraging since I've had small children and felt locked out of ministries I might have been involved in had I still been young and free from responsibilities. There's a whole world out there starving for Christ! Find a bit of it to work on and get going! There's plenty of work to be done - find something that moves your heart and throw yourself into proclaiming Jesus in whatever way is required.

We don't all have to be doing the same thing. In fact, God has made each of us different for that reason and created us with good works already planned out. I ought to think about what I can do and the people I know who need to hear about Christ and move in that direction with as much energy as I can muster.

The quote is from the Danvers Statement from The Council for Biblical Manhood and Womanhood.

images are from stock.xchng

guest post: Deb on when convenient ministry is good ministry

Last week I posted Deb's confessions on how I want ministry to be - that is, convenient - something I'm sure you can all relate to. Here are some further reflections from Deb, about when convenient ministry is good ministry. I particularly like point 4, but there are lots of gems here! You might like to add your own ideas.

I stand by the thought that I have very sinful attitudes towards ministry at times. However, on the flip side, there are some not-sinful reasons for looking for convenient ministries too. Convenient ministry can be a good thing when:

1. It expresses well the gifts God has given me. I'm not a big fan of "finding your spiritual gifts" - I think most of the time you should just muck in with whatever kingdom work needs doing rather than worrying about whether it fits some spiritual gift inventory you once went through - but it is still true that we are different from each other and have God-given talents in particular areas for the building up of his kingdom. Often a ministry will seem more "convenient" or pleasurable because it is something God's given us a talent for.

2. It allows me to do more ministry. If it can be fitted in well to your daily functioning, it's likely to mean you can do it more often or be freed up to do other things as well.

3. It is convenient because it's about sharing my life. Using your whole life as ministry is great, and if your ministry is convenient because you are seeking to share your everyday life with fellow believers and reach out to outsiders, then that is good ministry. My problem with this has always been that I thought I had to share my life in ways that other people feel comfortable with but that drive me crazy. For example, I think I would find having an "open house" approach to hospitality extremely difficult. I'm not a touchy-feeling-go-with-the-flow kind of person. Some of that is no doubt sinful. But at least for the present time, I'm thinking about ways I can share my life that fit with the flow of my personality, not against it.

4. It means I will do something rather than nothing. If you don't have time to run a 12-week course, do something more convenient. Do something, rather than nothing. I think churches should do "somethings" more often. Little churches burn out their people running weekly or monthly events. Do something more convenient: run a once-a-term women's night. Run a really great youth group night six times a year. Have a one day children's outreach program in the school holidays with everyone in the church helping instead of trying to find volunteers to do it for a whole week.

5. I genuinely want to be there. I've been involved in plenty of ministries that I did grudgingly out of duty. And sometimes you should go out of your comfort zone. And sometimes there are jobs that aren't attractive that we just need to do. And sometimes once you plunge into it, it gets better. But I've tended to see ministry as only happening when I was taking on some kind of burden. And the worst of that is when it has involved caring for people. That's a horrible attitude to take into ministry but I've been pretty fake about "loving" people plenty of times. I need to ask God to change my attitude but perhaps too I need to think better about what kind of task I'm taking on. Maybe I could be reaching out to the other women in my church in a way that I'd genuinely enjoy rather than swallowing it up like a bitter pill.

image is from ingu1963 at flickr

guest post: Deb on how I want ministry to be

My friend Deb hosts discussions about Christian books for women from her church at her house (more about this wonderful ministry another day). Here are some musings she sent me after this ministry got a little inconvenient the other night, about the kind of ministry we'd all like to do.

I thought I'd tell you what I've learnt about myself and ministry today in light of preparing to host tomorrow night's event:

1. I want ministry to be with people I like. Not awkward people who don't think like me.
2. I want ministry to be convenient. I'd like to organize it to give me as little discomfort as possible.
3. I want ministry to go well. I want it to achieve its purpose. I don't want to do ministry that fails. That would feel awful and waste my time.
4. I want other people to agree with my ministry. To see it as valuable and helpful. To approve of me and my wonderful efforts.
5. I want my ministry to be somehow beneficial to me at the same time. I don't want it to be all about someone else.
6. I want ministry to be safe and friendly for me. Definitely not something scary or risky. Something warm and comforting.
7. I want ministry that's interesting. I don't want to be involved in useful but boring jobs. I'd be wasted doing those sort of things. Unless they were easy. And somewhere warm. And didn't take up time that I'd want to use for something better. Then I'd do it. Want me to stuff envelopes in a warm office with a group of like-minded friends over a cup of tea while my husband entertains our children at home? Yep, I'm there! Set up the church hall in the cold with the weird couple who sit two rows up? I'm way too busy with my small children thanks.

Yep. That's what I realized today that I really think about ministry. I just don't say it aloud.

So that's good - off to do some repenting.

image is from Alicakes* at flickr