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.

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

of God’s gifts and chocolate torte

I burst into tears.1 It was one of those comments made occasionally by even the most sensitive of husbands as he dares to go where female friends fear to tread: “Jess made some yummy gluten-free sandwiches for the staff meeting today. You should get the recipe!”

“Sandwiches? Sandwiches? Did you say sandwiches?” That was my anguished cry, followed by a certain amount of, well, crying. “The staff team will never want to meet at our house again! How can I ever live up to that? I know, I know I don’t have to, but how can I? And no, I’m not making those sandwiches! Get Jess to make them for you!” (Okay, so maybe I made up that last sentence, but you get the gist.)

My husband listened patiently to my tantrum, hugged me, and reassured me that he loved me, sandwiches or no sandwiches; but no amount of reassurance could quite take away what I was feeling.

Al and Jess are friends who recently returned from theological studies in Sydney to take up work alongside my husband in university ministry. We trained them years ago, and were excited to welcome them back. Even better, they moved nearby; and if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s the value of having a good friend who lives just down the street.

But I was about to discover something about Jess. When the staff team meets in our house, they’re lucky to get a packet of chocolate biscuits and, on a good day, some store-bought dip and crackers. At Jess’s place, there’s a constant stream of home-made delicacies – pastries, summer rolls, and, yes, sandwiches – all healthy, skilfully made, and delicious.

Not only that, but they’re supplied in a clean, organised house: open Jess’s pantry, and instead of ten half-eaten boxes of cereal falling on your head, you’ll see three boxes lined up in a neat row. My discipline is slightly haphazard, whereas hers is carefully thought out and consistent. She jogs; I sit. When I waste a morning composing a blog post (right now I’ve interrupted my vacuuming to write this) she probably cleaned the bathrooms, bought and put away some shopping, and cooked a three-course meal for the Bible study at her place tonight.

Jess belongs to that rarest of threatened species – cue David Attenborough whispering, in reverent tones, “Here we see the Domestic Goddess in her natural habitat…” – and she puts my erratic attempts at homemaking and hospitality to shame.

A few days after my fit of tears, I sat across from Jess at her (carefully wiped) table (cups, jug and snacks set out between us) and laughed about how intimidated I was by her (admittedly delicious) sandwich fillings. Then Jess said something that stopped me in my tracks: “Don’t you realise you’ve intimidated me for years? All that writing, all those blog posts! I could never do that!”

That day we metaphorically shook hands, celebrated our different gifts, and agreed that we would never allow ourselves to be intimidated by each other again.

I was reminded that God’s gifts come in many shapes and colours. To some he gives gifts of hospitality and service, to others gifts of teaching, to still others (and these I find the most astounding) gifts of evangelism (Rom 12:6-8; Eph 4:11-13). Then he wraps us up and gives us to each other.

There’s no place for the foot asking, “Why can’t I be a hand?”, or the hand asking, “Why can’t I be a foot?” or, in the case of ambitious perfectionists like me, “Why can’t I be a hand and a foot and a knee and a neck and a shoulder and a…?” (1 Cor 12:12-27). There’s no room for comparisons or envy or ambition in this body (Phil 2:1-11).

We’re not given strengths and skills to win recognition for ourselves, to get people to like us, or to show off how smart or loving we are. We’re given them to serve one another in love, and to help each other grow up into Christ (Rom 12:3-8; Eph 4:7-16). There’s no “self” in the gifts we have, only a “you” – and a “Him”.

Of course, I still have my moments. Gorgeous photos of Jess’ famous chocolate torte and lemon pie on Facebook, complete with comments and requests for recipes,2 rub a little salt sugar in my wounds. “Isn’t the Internet my territory?”, asks my baser self. (And, yes, please do keep posting them online, dear Facebook friends, it’s good for me – and Jess.)

But then I tell myself to shut up and get over it, to put others ahead of myself, to remember that my true value is found in Jesus, and to rejoice that there’s something in each of us that we can point to and say, “Wow! It’s wonderful how you do this for the rest of us! And you do it so very well! Thanks be to God who made you and gave you this gift!”

I’m going to stop writing now. I’ll take a moment to thank God for Jess, and then get back to my vacuuming and inexpert lasagna making. You see, we’ve got a Bible study at our place tonight, and while there will be no home-made chocolate torte (probably a Coles one), we’re going to encourage each other, learn from my husband as he brings God’s word to us, and delight in the varied gifts we bring to our time together. And if I’m tempted to ask why I have to cook when my hubbie gets to teach the Bible, I’ll give myself in a swift kick, tell myself “Princess, it’s not about you”, and pray:

Thank you, Father, for the opportunity to serve, both in ways I’m good at and in ways I’m not so good at. Both do my soul a world of good.

In the name of your humbly serving Son,

Amen.

1. I challenge my male blogging friends to start a post with those four words. You can do it, blokes!
2. You'll find the recipe for Jess’s chocolate torte recipe here.

This post first appeared today at The Briefing.

busy service - and a week off

You won't hear much from me on this blog for a week or so. It's school holidays, Easter is coming, and I'm using this time to catch my breath, remember Jesus, spend some time with our family, and get ready for the coming term.

Who said my first term without children at home would be easy? Who was going to take everyone's advice and not start lots of new ministries this year? Who pictured long days at home, sipping a cuppa, reading a book or ten, getting the house ordered and glowing for the first time in its eleven years of being lived in by our family, and catching up with friends? Could that possibly have been - wait a minute - me???

It seems God had other ideas. It's the end of term one, and I find myself:

• leading a Bible study at the university campus nearby
• mentoring and praying with two younger women from church
• meeting with a friend to read a gospel together.

Put like that, it doesn't sound like much. Factor in husband and children and home and parents and church and friends and prayer and writing; plus the difficulties of adjusting to a new life phase and working out how to make it all work; plus some nervous fears - going back to university to do ministry when you're 43 is more challenging than I anticipated, especially when I wasn't anticipating it at all! - and at times it's felt overwhelming.

Yet I'm so very grateful to God for these opportunities. I love this! I love working alongside my husband in university ministry. I love the chance to mentor younger women. I love the fact that my husband and I will soon be leading the first Bible study we've ever led together. Much of this wouldn't have been possible in my previous season of life, and I'm revelling in the chance to do some of these things again.

Do we expect the Christian life to be easy? Or do we expect to be busy in the service of God and others? Sometimes it's time for rest. Sometimes it's time for busy service. Mostly it's time for busy service (Phil 2:17; 2 Thess 3:8-9; 1 Tim 5:9-14; Titus 2:3-5). Not over-busy, nervous, not-trusting, ambitious, being-eaten-up-by-people service (the kind I'm good at). But free, loving, wise, grace-inspired, poured-out-for-people service (the kind I'm learning).

As I turn my thoughts to Easter, these words echo in my mind:

The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. (Mark 10:45)

Praise God for our suffering and glorified Saviour, who paved the way for us to die with him during this life, then live with him forever. My life belongs to him.

image is from habeebee on 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

what I'm reading: dependence and sufficiency from The Briefing

Today's quote is a little gem from missionary Terry Blowes, quoted by Guan Un in his Diary of a ministry apprentice in this month's Briefing.

Twenty years of missionary service has taught me that I have a very big God, and a very small me. I went away as a very self-sufficient, self-dependent person. I came back as a very insufficient, God-dependent person.

Take out the "Twenty years of missionary service" and put in "Three years of blogging", and you have me! It's a great summary of what God has taught me during the last 3 years, as you've travelled this journey with me.

image is from stock.xchng

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?

Romans 12:1-2 (3) renewed in my mind

Have you ever wanted to know God's will for your life? I've been wondering what God wants from me. How can I best serve him?

Here's the starting point to knowing God's will - and part 3 of my 4-part summary of Steve Chong's talk on Romans 12:1-2.

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

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

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

Today we're looking at 2.

"be transformed by the renewing of your mind"

Our job is to have our minds renewed daily. It's not us doing the renewing - it's something God does in and for us.

Why? So we may be able to discern the will of God. So we can see what God wants from our lives.

How good is your eyesight in discerning what God wants from your life? If you can't discern his will, maybe there's a problem with your mind.

Here's God's will (drumroll, please) ..............
........he wants you - all of you - for him!

If you're not ready to have all of you used up for God, don't start serving. Get your mind and body ready.

At this point in the talk I pricked up my ears. I was reminded of James 1:5-7 & 4:1-9, which tells us to ask for wisdom, but warns us that God only gives wisdom to the one who's single-minded. If we're double-minded, we're to repent of our idolatry.

You may remember how this talk came in answer to my prayer for single-mindedness. Only when we're single-minded - only when we're prepared to give up everything for Jesus - will we have the wisdom to discern what he wants from us.

Of course, this isn't an on/off switch, for we're never completely single-hearted during this life. If we could only serve God once our motives were 100% pure, none of us could serve.

Still, it's true that it's impossible to serve God wholeheartedly when your heart is captured by something else. The more willing I am to give up everything, the clearer my vision will be, and the better I'll know what God wants from me.

Where those reflections led me, I'll tell you next time...

This is a summary of part of a talk given by Steve Chong at MTS Challenge Victoria.

image is from stock.xchng

Romans 12:1-2 (2) a living sacrifice

Here's part 2 of Steve Chong's talk on Romans 12:1-2, a talk that God used to change my heart. You can read part 1 here.

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 mind ready ("be transformed by the renewing of your mind.")

Let's start with 1.

"offer your bodies as living sacrifices"

"Living sacrifice". We've heard the words so often we don't even hear them. We water down "sacrifice" until it means missing a favourite TV show to go to a Bible study. But sacrifice is about a bloody, dead lamb on an altar. We are the "living slaughtered", our lives used up for the pleasure of God.

The problem with a living sacrifice is that it keeps crawling off the altar.

We say to God, "Yes, Lord, take me, take all of me.........but not......... ______________."

What do you finish the sentence with? What's your disclaimer, your caveat? That's what's stopping you from serving God with all your heart.

We all signed up for this. Have we forgotten?

I went home and finished the sentence. It was ridiculously easy to come up with 5 things that keep me from serving God whole-heartedly, and I'm sure there's more:
1. comfort
2. good standing with non-Christians
3. my children's happiness
4. the good opinion of Christians
5. the right to complain (!).

What's holding you back from being a living sacrifice?

This is a summary of part of a talk given by Steve Chong at MTS Challenge Victoria.

images is from stock.xchng

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

what I'm reading: busyness and making things better from The Busy Christian's Guide to Busyness

Are you a sympathetic person who sees someone in trouble and has to help? A problem-solver who sees something wrong and has to fix it? A visionary who sees things need to change and has to do something about it?

Many of us think if we just work hard enough, we can do everything that needs to be done. It's one of the quickest routes to over-busyness and burnout. Tim Chester says,

One of the lies that drives our busyness is the belief that we can do everything and solve every problem - it is just a matter of squeezing it all in. The reality is that we are finite. Only God is infinite...

People who get work out of perspective do so because deep down they believe that 'God either cannot or will not provide' and that therefore they themselves must do so...

'I'm busy because people need me.' It's another version of 'I'm busy because otherwise things get out of control.' If I'm not active then things will get out of control in someone else's life...We shouldn't over-estimate ourselves - we are not indispensable. We like to think we can solve every problem, but we cannot...

Don't get me wrong. We have a responsibility to serve God and love other people... We are to be poured out in service. We are to give until there is nothing left to give. But then we stop. We cannot and should not do more than we can. God doesn't expect it of us. We are not saviours. He alone is the Saviour...

We trust God for our concerns and obey God in our responsibility. Don't take responsibility for those things you should leave to God. You'll end up playing god. And God is a much better God than you are! You will soon burn yourself out...Many years ago I said, "Lord, I'll do the work and you do the worrying."

This quote is from chapter 9 of Tim Chester's The Busy Christian's Guide to Busyness.

image is from Sarah G... at flickr

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

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

serving ... who?

I was rather resentfully (I admit it!) driving to the shops yesterday to pick up something for my husband, when it occurred to me that there's a different way to look at things.

When I serve Steve, ultimately I'm serving Jesus. And I'd drive all the way around the world for Jesus if he asked me too.

Which brought so much joy to my service that I followed it up by making Steve lunch (something which I do far more rarely than I could) and made both of us happy!

image is from rachel_titiriga at flickr

biblical womanhood (3a) loving your children: the day of the apple

"Mum, can you cut up my apple?"
"Eat it whole, sweetie. With 4 children, I don't have time to cut up apples!"

"Mum, I want an apple. Can you cut it up?"
"No, honey, I'm too busy to cut up apples. I've got 4 children."

"Mu-um, I'm hungry. Can you cut up an apple, please?"
"No! I've got 4 children! I don't have time to cut up apples!!!"

And so it went on. Until one day, my sister-in-law made a very helpful observation: "You say that a lot." "I do? I guess you're right, I do say it quite a lot." "Yes, you say it all the time." "Oh."

That was the day I started cutting up apples.


That was the day I decided, since having 4 children was my (and my husband's) idea, not my children's - and since one of my jobs is to cheerfully serve them, and I don't want them to think they're a burden, not a blessing - and since I want them to eat healthy food like apples, and they're more likely to eat apples if I cut them up - well, for all kinds of reasons, now I come to think about it - I'd better start cutting up apples.

I couldn't count the number of apples I've cut up since then. Red apples. Green apples. Bruised apples. Clean apples. (I'm getting a little Dr. Seuss here.) Apples, apples, apples. Apples with their sides cut off (bit of wastage there). Apples in their 4 neat quarters (perfecting my technique). Apples with their seeds scooped out (and into the compost bin). Tried one of those apple slicers (didn't really work). At least 2 a day, often 4; at least 3, often more. Oranges, bananas, kiwi fruit, whole platters full of fruit, and an awful lot of carrots and capsicums. But mostly apples.

Apples aren't really the issue here. You may or may not cut up apples. Kids don't need their apples cut up: that's just a symbol. Far more importantly, the day I started cutting up apples was the day I tried to stop saying, in answer to all kinds of reasonable requests, "I can't. I'm too busy. I've got 4 children." Not quite, "I'm too busy running around after you lot!" (I'd never say a thing like that, would I. Would I??). But nearly.

Which is a long-winded way of explaining why, when I read chapter 3 of Carolyn Mahaney's Feminine Appeal, on loving your children, I realised that in some ways I don't fit her experience of mothers. I find "tender love", "loving affection", and "enjoying your children", the easy part of bringing up kids. "That's wonderful, sweetie!", "Come and have a cuddle!", "Let's read a story", come easily to me.

Like so many of our most deeply-held attitudes, I learnt this from my parents. When my mother talks about what it was like having young children, she always says, "It was a lot of fun." And that's how I remember it. She really, really enjoyed having children, and she let us see it. She was warm in her affection, tender in her love, and enthusiastic in her play, and my father was, too. I am incredibly grateful about that, because not all my friends learned that attitude from their parents, and they have to battle for it every day.

(Actually, now I come to think of it, I don't think my children would ever have thought of cut-up-apples if it wasn't for the fact that Grandma always cut them up, so I have that to thank her for, too. Thanks, Mum.)

But sacrificial service? I'm not so good at that (and no, that's not my mother's fault, she was good at service, hence the cut-up apples). I've learnt, slowly, the satisfaction that can be found at the end of hours chopping veges and stirring pots. I've learnt, with practice, about the blessings which come through nappy-drudgery, and mopping-drudgery, and taxi-service-drudgery. I've learnt, finally, when my children ask for something, to put down what I'm doing, and to help them cheerfully and patiently (there's often a little *sigh* I'm still working on).

I've learnt that motherhood demands two kinds of love: self-denying, sacrificial service, and joyful, tender affection. Sometimes, you need both salt and sugar in the apple pie to make it taste good.


images are from stock.xchng

cheerful service

My moral compass did one of those small about-faces last Monday.

It was one of those times when there's a task to be done, and some doubt about who's going to do it: you or your husband (or housemate, or friend, or colleague, or fellow church member).

This was a marital grey area: taking the kids to school. Most of the household tasks come with a label attached - my job, his job - but this one's up for negotiation. Monday morning, it fell to me.

I was driving the kids to school, grumbling away in my mind: "Why should I have to do this? There's so much traffic! It'll take me forever to get back! I've got people coming over, and I need to clean the house! I could be cleaning the house right now!"

I dropped the kids and turned the car for home, when it occurred to me (I'm a bit slow) that I could adopt a different attitude.

I could replace one internal monologue with another: "Steve's working hard at the moment, he's stressed and tired, and here's a small way I can help him."

Not much, I know. But better by far. For with this attitude I honour God, who calls me to cheerful and loving service.

when called to do less than our best

I just spent a week on a conference where I spent many hours minding children while my husband gave some wonderful talks. Yes, I did get a chance to lead a seminar on enjoying God - more about that another time - but mostly I cared for our children.

I won't pretend there weren't many moments when I felt resentful about my lot of wiping snotty noses and comforting a miserable 2-year-old. But what a joy to hear Steve speak on the great truths of the faith, and reflect on how my service helped make this possible!

Here's some posts which reminded me of the beauty of service:

More Like Christ reminded this perfectionist that God may call me to do "less than my best", to serve him in ways which don't seem to use my gifts and training.

The Homemaker's Secret of Fulfilment reminded me of Jesus' promise that we will find ourselves as we lose ourselves in serving others.

Homemaking is not a holding pattern encouraged me to love my children with whole-hearted enthusiasm, not thinking wistfully "When this stage of life is over, then I can ...".

And it holds true for guys, too: One Productive Life tells the moving story of Warfield, whose life was made much smaller by his devoted care for his invalid wife.

sock service

I still remember the day I decided to start putting Steve's socks away.

I used to hand him a pile of folded clothes, and he put them in the cupboard. My small domestic nod to feminism. Somehow, putting away his socks felt like giving up the last bastion of my female independence. And perhaps it was.

But one day an older, wiser woman told me that she had recently started putting her husband's rolled socks in his drawer, as a small act of service to help him during a time of heavy responsibility.

Knowing the politics of marriage, she is probably still doing it.

It was C.S.Lewis who taught me that love is not about justice. If we aim for equality in marriage, we will never get equality, but we will get plenty of conflict. Better for each of us to serve the other, in humility and grace; and if there are times I am not served, to go on serving.

And it was Jesus who taught me about the beauty of humble service involving feet. Ruler of the universe, he took the job of the lowest servant:

When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. "Do you understand what I have done for you?" he asked them. "You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them." John 13:12-17

If it's good enough for my Lord, it's good enough for me.

And if feet, why not socks?