Becoming Christ’s Hands and Feet

I’m in the second year of teaching a Sunday school class. We call it Navigators, and it’s for those who are perhaps newer to church, or it’s been awhile, and we cover some of the basic concepts of Christianity (but to a slightly deeper level than just a new members class).

One of the things we try to do is take advantage of opportunities to develop our “mission muscles”–to demonstrate that the grace we learn about in class has a component that leads us out into the world, to bring Christ’s love, in action, to others. One of our classmates, Bob, has elderly parents; his mom was put into hospice care last Friday, and his 90-year-old dad isn’t able to take care of stuff around the house as much anymore. And it had been a source of stress for Bob, that there was stuff nobody could get to while mom was ill.

So last Sunday, Navigators drove three hours to the southern tip of Maryland to Bob’s parents’ place, and spent the day being in service to a brother in Christ. We beat back bushes that had overgrown; we weeded and mulched the front gardens; we removed a torn awning from over the side door; we mowed, we weed-whacked, we generally did whatever Bob said needed doing.

When we were done, I have to admit, the place looked a whole lot better than when we arrived. Bob’s dad was off visiting his mom at the hospital, and so he had a wonderful surprise waiting for him when he got home. But all the more important was the lesson we all learned about going when Christ says “go.” It was a l-o-n-g drive, it rained on the way back, and we probably each had a dozen things on our own lists that we could have been doing with our Sunday. But for one brief day, our worship wasn’t in a church building. It certainly wasn’t mechanical, or uninspired. It was meaningful to us all, to be in service to Bob and his family, and it helped bring the Kingdom Among Us to a family who needed a little extra help.

I slept well that night. It was a good day to be growing as a disciple of Christ.

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Dealing With Bad News

What do you do when the plans you were making, around which you’d built your expectations for the future, suddenly crumble and you realize they won’t become reality?

We’re dealing with that this weekend. We had some very disappointing news come into the family–shattering news, really, to the one making the plans–and it’s affected us all. I wasn’t the one making the plans, but this news has consumed almost all of my spare brainpower ever since.

When something like this hits, everything feels different. Things move in slo-mo. Brains race. Even, I’ve noticed, food tastes a little differently. Our primitive instincts begin to kick in, we get afraid, we fear. We lash out at anyone or anything we think got in our way.

At times like this our faith in God goes one of two ways. We can get angry with him–how could you let this happen? What kind of God claims to love and then ruins my plans?

Or we can get our egos out of the way and put more faith in him. We recognize that God might not be the actor causing the sudden crisis…but we recognize that he certainly can use it, that he has a plan for us, and that even if we can’t see what that is, that he still loves us.

Easier said than done. When we feel we’ve been wronged, there’s a part of us that likes to play the victim. That’s a whole lot easier than recognizing any role we may have had ourselves in the downfall of our plans.

The good news is, though, that even when we’re angry with him, God still loves us. And that, odds are, he wasn’t the one behind our misfortune. Remember, we have an enemy who wants to wreck our plans and sow discontent and drive wedges between us and God. But in the depths of our crisis, how hard it is to see anything else.

Sometime, yes, new plans will be made. This weekend’s devastation will be surmounted, even if we can’t forget it. And in the midst of it, that hope may seem so distant. But it’s there, waiting for us to discover it with new hearts.