Exodus 4:2
Then the LORD said to him, "What is that in your hand?"
"Who am I that I should go..." This was Moses' question. God had personally called Moses out to fullfill his life's destiny and all Moses could do was express his own personal feelings of inadequacy.
In his banter back and forth with God, Moses continually gave God reasons why he was not equipped for the job.
"If they question me, how will I answer them?"(Ex. 3:13)
"What if they don't believe me?"(Ex. 4:1)
"I am slow of speech."(Ex. 4:10)
Three times Moses tried to explain to God why he was not the man for the job. Three times he described why he did not have what it took to deliver the Hebrew nation from the hand of the Egyptians. And three times God answered him.
The theme of God's answers can be summed up in one question from God. "What is that in your hand?" God pointed out what Moses already possessed.
To Moses' worry of how the Hebrew leaders might question him, God gave Moses His name. The name of God in this story was reiterated over and over again to express God's personal and present hand of deliverance. God Himself was a companion that Moses already had. God had appeared to Moses' fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacod and promised Himself to their decendants forever. God was already present in Moses' life.
To Moses' doubt that the Hebrews wouldn't believe him, God pointed out Moses' staff as a medium to express God's power. Moses was now working as a shephard. His staff is the one thing that Moses would have always had with him. God knew this. God knew what Moses had in his hand.
To Moses fear that his speech would not be appropriate for Pharoah, God reminded Moses of who had created his mouth in the first place. At Moses' persistence, God even appointed his brother Aaron to speak for him. A family member of Moses in place before the burning bush
God equipped Moses with tools and gifts that Moses already possessed. By birth Moses was already in covenant relationship with God. By trade Moses already had a staff. By creation Moses already had a mouth. And by heritage Moses already had a brother.
God knew these things. God did not casually use what was in Moses' life out of convience. God had a plan to use those things that had been planted in Moses' life from years before.
How often do we explain to God the reasons that we are ill-equipped for the task He gives us. How often do we overlook our own equipping, all the while God is busy making us ready for every good work.
The reality is this: You and I already have everything we need to do what God has called us to do. You and I are already equipped for every good work. You and I have already been given gifts from God to carry out His mission for our lives.
He has given us Himself and His name. In so doing He has ordained us and declared us as ambassadors of His Kingdom.
He has given us a staff. A means to express His great power. This may be some ability you have through which God can magnify Himself.
He has given us our own created bodies. However imperfect they may seem to us, they are perfect for His work.
He has even given us our family and friends to help carry the message.
As you look to the task ahead, rest assured that in Christ you truly have what it takes. You are equipped so step out in obedience and faith and trust in the One who has equipped you.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Moses pt 3 - From fear to FAITH
Hebrews 11:27
By faith he (Moses) left Egypt, not fearing the king's anger; he persevered because he saw him who is invisible.
Have you ever walked in fear? Have you ever wished you had more faith? Have you ever wondered how you can move from fear to faith? Moses' life can show us the path.
When Moses was forty years old he killed an Egyptian in an effort to relieve the burden being put on the Hebrew people. Once Pharaoh knew of his actions, he set out to kill Moses. Moses fled to the wilderness as a fugitive in fear for his life.
Moses made a grave mistake. Now he sought refuge in the anonymity of the wilderness. He ran to where he was not known.
But God. (What a wonderful phrase.) But God was very aware of where Moses was and who Moses was. God watched over Moses very carefully and when the time was right, God brought him back. Back to Egypt Back to the place of his transgression.
Hebrews speaks of when Moses lead the people out with no fear of king. How is this possible? How could Moses have left in fear for his life and then leave again with the entire Hebrew nation and have no fear of the king?
The answer lies at the end of Hebrews 11:27: "...because he saw HIM who was invisible." Moses had a burning bush encounter with God. God had shown up in Moses' life and Moses did not turn away. In fact the Bible says that when Moses saw the burning bush he turned towards it to investigate. God revieled himself to Moses and that made all the difference.
A man on the run. Aren't we all? It seems like so many people are moving forward in an effort to distance themselves from something in their past.
But God. But God is calling us out. He is exposing us. Not to the world in shame but to himself. God is offering His face to us. This is our burning bush opportunity. We are to look into His face. We are to investigate Him more. We are to press into Him.
He is calling each one of us into a work that may seem to like much. He is asking of us more than we can give. He may even be calling us back to our place of transgression to lead out those still trapped. How can we do this? How can we move from fear to FAITH? Because we have seen the one who is invisible.
Look into His face today and be filled with Faith.
By faith he (Moses) left Egypt, not fearing the king's anger; he persevered because he saw him who is invisible.
Have you ever walked in fear? Have you ever wished you had more faith? Have you ever wondered how you can move from fear to faith? Moses' life can show us the path.
When Moses was forty years old he killed an Egyptian in an effort to relieve the burden being put on the Hebrew people. Once Pharaoh knew of his actions, he set out to kill Moses. Moses fled to the wilderness as a fugitive in fear for his life.
Moses made a grave mistake. Now he sought refuge in the anonymity of the wilderness. He ran to where he was not known.
But God. (What a wonderful phrase.) But God was very aware of where Moses was and who Moses was. God watched over Moses very carefully and when the time was right, God brought him back. Back to Egypt Back to the place of his transgression.
Hebrews speaks of when Moses lead the people out with no fear of king. How is this possible? How could Moses have left in fear for his life and then leave again with the entire Hebrew nation and have no fear of the king?
The answer lies at the end of Hebrews 11:27: "...because he saw HIM who was invisible." Moses had a burning bush encounter with God. God had shown up in Moses' life and Moses did not turn away. In fact the Bible says that when Moses saw the burning bush he turned towards it to investigate. God revieled himself to Moses and that made all the difference.
A man on the run. Aren't we all? It seems like so many people are moving forward in an effort to distance themselves from something in their past.
But God. But God is calling us out. He is exposing us. Not to the world in shame but to himself. God is offering His face to us. This is our burning bush opportunity. We are to look into His face. We are to investigate Him more. We are to press into Him.
He is calling each one of us into a work that may seem to like much. He is asking of us more than we can give. He may even be calling us back to our place of transgression to lead out those still trapped. How can we do this? How can we move from fear to FAITH? Because we have seen the one who is invisible.
Look into His face today and be filled with Faith.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Moses pt 2 - Destiny, Now or Never?
Acts 7:23-25 He (Moses) saw one of them being mistreated by an Egyptian, so he went to his defense and avenged him by killing the Egyptian. Moses thought that his own people would realize that God was using him to rescue them, but they did not.
On the stage of life, just as on the stage of theater, timing is everything. The right line; the punch line at the wrong time can ruin the entire performance. The right words, wrongly placed can cause harm and confusion. Such is the case of Moses' first attempt to fulfill his destiny.
From before his birth, Moses had been set aside for this exact purpose: to deliver the Hebrews from Egypt in a way that would display God's mighty power. At his birth his mother recognized that he was special. Timing. At three months of age Pharaoh's daughter had compassion on him. Timing. And at forty he murdered a man to fulfill the call of God on his life. Again, timing.
How is it that Moses' destiny, while true and sure, would lead him down such a path so contrary to the God who had destined him? TIMING.
Moses had a God-given purpose; a calling; a destiny. There are many elements that make up a destiny.
Passion. Moses was obviously passionate about his destiny. So much so that he would take the life of another man to live in that passion.
Value of others. Moses risked his own life to rescue his Hebrew brother.
Connection. After all Moses was a Hebrew.
And Timing. God's Timing.
What Moses possessed in these first three elements, he lacked in Timing. In lacking Timing he showed that he lacked trust in God. God is the one who had placed this calling on Moses' life in the first place. God is the one who had spared Moses' life. God is the one who had given him the passion, and value for others, and his connection.
Somewhere along the way Moses chose to follow the Calling instead of the Caller. Moses chose to be controlled by his destiny instead of entrusting his future into the hands of the one who created that future. He literally took matters into his own hands. In so doing, he rushed ahead of God's Timing and set out to free the Hebrew nation in his own Timing. His rhythm was off. His feet were out of step. He rushed the punch line. It cost a man his life and Moses' own people were confused by his actions.
Thank God for Timing. Thank God for Grace. Through Grace, God gave Moses another opportunity to live in his calling. When Moses learned to lay down his own life, God reached into his heart and pulled up all those things that had been planted so deep. Things Moses was sure were gone forever. Things Moses was sure he had buried in the sand with the dead Egyptian. But with God Calling remains, Grace restores and Timing is set right again.
On the stage of life, just as on the stage of theater, timing is everything. The right line; the punch line at the wrong time can ruin the entire performance. The right words, wrongly placed can cause harm and confusion. Such is the case of Moses' first attempt to fulfill his destiny.
From before his birth, Moses had been set aside for this exact purpose: to deliver the Hebrews from Egypt in a way that would display God's mighty power. At his birth his mother recognized that he was special. Timing. At three months of age Pharaoh's daughter had compassion on him. Timing. And at forty he murdered a man to fulfill the call of God on his life. Again, timing.
How is it that Moses' destiny, while true and sure, would lead him down such a path so contrary to the God who had destined him? TIMING.
Moses had a God-given purpose; a calling; a destiny. There are many elements that make up a destiny.
Passion. Moses was obviously passionate about his destiny. So much so that he would take the life of another man to live in that passion.
Value of others. Moses risked his own life to rescue his Hebrew brother.
Connection. After all Moses was a Hebrew.
And Timing. God's Timing.
What Moses possessed in these first three elements, he lacked in Timing. In lacking Timing he showed that he lacked trust in God. God is the one who had placed this calling on Moses' life in the first place. God is the one who had spared Moses' life. God is the one who had given him the passion, and value for others, and his connection.
Somewhere along the way Moses chose to follow the Calling instead of the Caller. Moses chose to be controlled by his destiny instead of entrusting his future into the hands of the one who created that future. He literally took matters into his own hands. In so doing, he rushed ahead of God's Timing and set out to free the Hebrew nation in his own Timing. His rhythm was off. His feet were out of step. He rushed the punch line. It cost a man his life and Moses' own people were confused by his actions.
Thank God for Timing. Thank God for Grace. Through Grace, God gave Moses another opportunity to live in his calling. When Moses learned to lay down his own life, God reached into his heart and pulled up all those things that had been planted so deep. Things Moses was sure were gone forever. Things Moses was sure he had buried in the sand with the dead Egyptian. But with God Calling remains, Grace restores and Timing is set right again.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Moses pt 1 - Who am I?
Exodus 2:11
But Moses said to God, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?"
This is an amazing question to God from Moses. Moses, an Isrealite man who had grown up in the house of Pharoah. A man of great learning and power. A man of a chosen people. A man called by God.
From an outside perspective Moses should have been experiencing the best of all that could have been available to him at that time in history. His people by birth had been given a unique covenant relationship with the Creator of the universe. Then, at the time of their bondage, Moses was litterally plucked out into the home of their captors. He was brought into the house of power as a son of the ruling family. He could now share in the Heavenly relationship and the worldly power. Not a common place for a man to find himself.
Moses lived in this unique role as a man broken and on the run. He lived behind the protections of distance and anonymity guarding his life from danger and his heart from fear. Until this day.
This day that God would call him out of his safe place; his comfort zone. God called Moses to a task that I believe had lived in Moses' heart for some 80. As a young age (or at least younger than this day), Moses felt a sense of destiny to liberate his own people. He felt their pain and anguish. He felt their cry to God. He must have felt it, and felt it very passionately. After all, something drove him to murder.
But here Moses gives the answer of a defeated man: "Who am I that I should go...?" Why me? What do I have to offer? How can I be of any good to God's cause? What a lowly question. What a question, or rather a statement of low self value. God had hand picked Moses and clearly Moses questioned God's choice.
I think Moses' true problem was a crisis of identity. At the core was his real question: Who am I? Moses had lived his first 40 years between two worlds. He had lived these last 40 years in a third. Once a prince, now a rancher; not even a rancher; a ranch hand for his father-in-law. Where was his dignity? Where was his adventure? Where was his drive? I believe it was buried in the sand with the Egyptian he murdered 40 years earlier. I believe it was still swimming in the river where his mother left him in the reeds. Now before the burning bush was the shell of the man they used to call Moses, Prince of Egypt.
But Moses said to God, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?"
This is an amazing question to God from Moses. Moses, an Isrealite man who had grown up in the house of Pharoah. A man of great learning and power. A man of a chosen people. A man called by God.
From an outside perspective Moses should have been experiencing the best of all that could have been available to him at that time in history. His people by birth had been given a unique covenant relationship with the Creator of the universe. Then, at the time of their bondage, Moses was litterally plucked out into the home of their captors. He was brought into the house of power as a son of the ruling family. He could now share in the Heavenly relationship and the worldly power. Not a common place for a man to find himself.
Moses lived in this unique role as a man broken and on the run. He lived behind the protections of distance and anonymity guarding his life from danger and his heart from fear. Until this day.
This day that God would call him out of his safe place; his comfort zone. God called Moses to a task that I believe had lived in Moses' heart for some 80. As a young age (or at least younger than this day), Moses felt a sense of destiny to liberate his own people. He felt their pain and anguish. He felt their cry to God. He must have felt it, and felt it very passionately. After all, something drove him to murder.
But here Moses gives the answer of a defeated man: "Who am I that I should go...?" Why me? What do I have to offer? How can I be of any good to God's cause? What a lowly question. What a question, or rather a statement of low self value. God had hand picked Moses and clearly Moses questioned God's choice.
I think Moses' true problem was a crisis of identity. At the core was his real question: Who am I? Moses had lived his first 40 years between two worlds. He had lived these last 40 years in a third. Once a prince, now a rancher; not even a rancher; a ranch hand for his father-in-law. Where was his dignity? Where was his adventure? Where was his drive? I believe it was buried in the sand with the Egyptian he murdered 40 years earlier. I believe it was still swimming in the river where his mother left him in the reeds. Now before the burning bush was the shell of the man they used to call Moses, Prince of Egypt.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Bus blog 11/04/09
In my new role as the Associate Director of Worldwide Voice In the Wilderness, (http://www.wviw.com) I am taking public transportation 3+ times a week. Dallas has a pretty good network of busses and trains that can get me to just about anywhere in the city. The Dallas Area Rapid Transit or DART (http://www.dart.org) has become my new driver.
I've only ever taking a bus or train when I was a child in school or while traveling overseas. We did take the subway a few time a couple years ago in New York City, but that's still like being in another country.
The rest of the world lives on the public transit system. In Honduras there is some loudly decorated people mover coming by almost every highway and biway at a seemingly unending pace of regularity. In Barcelona you can catch an underground train to any part of the city, or take the regional train south to beach front towns like Sitges or north into France. Heck, you can ride a train all over Europe moving from country to country in just a few hours.
For some reason in the US we are still a little bit behind. Some cities like New York currently have a great system in place, but natioanl travel by train is still pretty far behind the rest of the world. Granted, you can fly anywhere in America that you want to, but some how traveling with others by plain is a little different. Especially when you're taking the train or bus in an urban setting.
If you've ever taken a public transport mode of commute then you are quickly made aware that you are traveling with the masses. And masses means everyone. There are as many different kinds of people on the bus as there are passengers. Everyone is there own unique individual. You get the business commuters with their smart business attire and tennis shoes. I love that. You get the truest techies. You know the ones with dockers, short sleeve button down shirts and calculator watches. You have the gang bangers (or at least the wanna be's) decked out with the side ways cap with the perfectly flat brim and a little bling to boot. And you get the homeless man who's probably riding to just be somewhere safe.
The intersting thing I'm noticing is that really, we're all the same. Same wants. Same desires. We all watch the schedule to make sure we're not late. We all bring something to read to pass the time. We all keep to ourselves. Except in those rare occasions when we've made a friend with the driver.
I observed just such a friend situation earlier today. A few stops after I got on the bus this morning, a lady came running to the bus. The driver waited for her and she jumped on, out of breath but with great appreciation for the driver waiting. "I'm late and I have to give a speech today in class."
Apparently the driver knew her from her regularity on this bus. After some small talk and a few questions the passenger and driver established that she was giving a persuasive speech on why people should loose weight. And so it began.
The passenger had studied her topic and had personal experience at loosing weight. The driver: an expert in all things health related. Each back and forth giving point after point as to what food items will make you fat. How America is making money off of people being fat and therefore does not truly want people to loose weight. How your body can't actually loose fat, only make your current fat cells smaller. On and on they went, not really having a conversation, just joisting back and forth in a seemingly unannounced competition as to who had the most and most correct fat buring info. A lot of talking and no listening. Or should I say, no hearing. Neither person felt or was actually heard. How tragic.
Steven Covey says that being heard is the emotional equivalent to oxygen. We all want to be heard. We all need to be heard. Here was a moment of human interaction where you could clearly see two starving people. Starving to be heard. So hungry that they could not hear another person, giving them what they each so desperately needed. They could only glutten themselves on the feast of their own words hoping someone on the other end would pick up the sound and satisfy their appetite.
I wondered after leaving that bus, how often I do the same thing. How often do I approach another human with my unheard appetite to feast on their ears? How often do I take and take and take time to tell my story without listening to theirs? How often do I put myself ahead of them to satisfy my own needs?
The Bible says, "give and it shall be given unto you." as a minister I teach the principles of reaping and sowing. Maybe I should learn to give "listening" so that it may be given back. Maybe then and only then will I be heard.
Think about it.
See you on the bus,
Travis & Gina Moffitt
I've only ever taking a bus or train when I was a child in school or while traveling overseas. We did take the subway a few time a couple years ago in New York City, but that's still like being in another country.
The rest of the world lives on the public transit system. In Honduras there is some loudly decorated people mover coming by almost every highway and biway at a seemingly unending pace of regularity. In Barcelona you can catch an underground train to any part of the city, or take the regional train south to beach front towns like Sitges or north into France. Heck, you can ride a train all over Europe moving from country to country in just a few hours.
For some reason in the US we are still a little bit behind. Some cities like New York currently have a great system in place, but natioanl travel by train is still pretty far behind the rest of the world. Granted, you can fly anywhere in America that you want to, but some how traveling with others by plain is a little different. Especially when you're taking the train or bus in an urban setting.
If you've ever taken a public transport mode of commute then you are quickly made aware that you are traveling with the masses. And masses means everyone. There are as many different kinds of people on the bus as there are passengers. Everyone is there own unique individual. You get the business commuters with their smart business attire and tennis shoes. I love that. You get the truest techies. You know the ones with dockers, short sleeve button down shirts and calculator watches. You have the gang bangers (or at least the wanna be's) decked out with the side ways cap with the perfectly flat brim and a little bling to boot. And you get the homeless man who's probably riding to just be somewhere safe.
The intersting thing I'm noticing is that really, we're all the same. Same wants. Same desires. We all watch the schedule to make sure we're not late. We all bring something to read to pass the time. We all keep to ourselves. Except in those rare occasions when we've made a friend with the driver.
I observed just such a friend situation earlier today. A few stops after I got on the bus this morning, a lady came running to the bus. The driver waited for her and she jumped on, out of breath but with great appreciation for the driver waiting. "I'm late and I have to give a speech today in class."
Apparently the driver knew her from her regularity on this bus. After some small talk and a few questions the passenger and driver established that she was giving a persuasive speech on why people should loose weight. And so it began.
The passenger had studied her topic and had personal experience at loosing weight. The driver: an expert in all things health related. Each back and forth giving point after point as to what food items will make you fat. How America is making money off of people being fat and therefore does not truly want people to loose weight. How your body can't actually loose fat, only make your current fat cells smaller. On and on they went, not really having a conversation, just joisting back and forth in a seemingly unannounced competition as to who had the most and most correct fat buring info. A lot of talking and no listening. Or should I say, no hearing. Neither person felt or was actually heard. How tragic.
Steven Covey says that being heard is the emotional equivalent to oxygen. We all want to be heard. We all need to be heard. Here was a moment of human interaction where you could clearly see two starving people. Starving to be heard. So hungry that they could not hear another person, giving them what they each so desperately needed. They could only glutten themselves on the feast of their own words hoping someone on the other end would pick up the sound and satisfy their appetite.
I wondered after leaving that bus, how often I do the same thing. How often do I approach another human with my unheard appetite to feast on their ears? How often do I take and take and take time to tell my story without listening to theirs? How often do I put myself ahead of them to satisfy my own needs?
The Bible says, "give and it shall be given unto you." as a minister I teach the principles of reaping and sowing. Maybe I should learn to give "listening" so that it may be given back. Maybe then and only then will I be heard.
Think about it.
See you on the bus,
Travis & Gina Moffitt
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The Power of Free
Yesterday I noticed a wonderful sight on the evening news: Free Chicken at KFC! You have to understand that one of my first jobs ever was at a KFC. It was awesome. I could have all the free biscuits I could eat AND they paid me! Who could ask for anything more?
Yesterday was special though. KFC has a new grilled chicken item and they were giving away one piece per person. With a KFC right across the street from my work, I had to make a dinner run.
I expected a line but this was a little much. When I turned into the parking lot, sort-of, the tail of my car was still hanging out in the road. The drive through line was long and motionless. I spotted an open parking spot and quickly made my move. Already I could feel the excitement and challenge of getting to that chicken.
Inside the store was no different. There must have been twenty people in line waiting to order. Along the side filling every possible seat was another twenty or so people holding little pieces of paper. Each with a facial expression somewhere between aggrivation and anticipation.
I immediately began to worry. "Would I get my chicken? Would there be enough to go around? What were those pieces of paper? Did I need a ticket or some coupon from the newspaper?" I didn't really get the whole news story and so now the worry had set in.
I made my way to the end of the line and began to notice my fellow patrons of free. Everyone was there. Couples, singles, families, a lot of moms with there kids. I would do the same. As a new father to-be I thought about the power of a free meal for my child. Especially here, in this neighborhood. It is not what you would call an affluent neighborhood. I don't believe that this KFC was any more flooded than any other KFC any where else in Dallas, but I did wonder if this was an especially good blessing here.
I could feel my nervous excitement building as I got closer and closer to the counter. Finally it was my turn. I had so many questions. "Is this for real? Are you guys really giving away free chicken? Do I have to buy anything in order to get the free chicken?"
"May I help you?" the cashier asked with a weary voice.
"What do I get for free?" I asked.
"One piece of grilled chicken" she answered.
"It's not the meal? What about the sides and the biscuits?" I shot back at her. I just got here and I'm already working the system.
"Just one piece per person" she answered.
"I work just across the street. Can I get some for my co-workers?"
"They have to be here."
"Alright. One piece of chicken, side of mash potatos and two biscuits please."
Sixty seconds later I was sitting in a booth with the rest of my new friends, ticket in hand, waiting. Waiting for my mana from KFC Heaven. I was so excited. There was a new found since of pride as I watched the countless masses stream in and go hrough the same roller coast of excitement. A few folks asked what was going on. I was now in know and could easy reassure them that the rumors were indeed true. Free chicken abounds here. One piece per person, but you can order extra stuff if you want to.
I sat. I sat and I waited ... nine minutes. That's how long it takes to cook a tray of grilled chicken. Finally the next round of distrubution began. "Would I make the cut? Would they get to my number in this round or would I have to wait another nine minutes?" My mind was spinning. And who waits nine minutes for one piece of chicken anyway. Was this whole thing ridiculous or what. Surely my co-workers were going think I was crazy. Nine minutes for chicken?!?
Oh, that's my number they just called. I'm in! The lady packing my order then asked, "do you want some cole slaw?"
"How 'bout some more mash potatoes?" I said.
She disappeared for a second and return with my completed order: 1 piece of grilled chicken, 2 orders of mash potatos (I only paid for one), and 2 biscuits (I paid for both). She thrust a drink cup into my hand (free) and handed me my order. "Sorry for the wait."
I was almost in shock. Free chicken extra mash and a drink to boot. Whoa!!! Must be my lucky day.
I walked out of that KFC with a new found pride and excitement for life. Oh I had seen others leaving with a grin holding their little box protecting their free chicken treasure but this was now my chicken. I had taken the risk and won the prize.
I GOT MY FREE CHICKEN!!!
Once back at work all my co-workers came in to see and ask and get the story. I could see their desire to make a dinner run themselves but they all hesitated. No faith I guess.
Except one. He left and was back in 5 minutes. It took me more than 25 minutes. He returned empty handed. "That's crazy. I'm not waiting in THAT line just for a piece of chicken. I couldn't even get into the parking lot."
There was a quiet moment and then this co-worker made an interesting observation. "What if people came to Christ like that?"
What if?
What if the lines were so long you couldn't even get in the parking lot? What if the excitement was so great that you could hardly believe it to be real? What if you would wait an extrordinarily long time just get the meal you came for? Would you bring your kids? Would you tell others about the free offer of grace? Would you turn around and go home if the line was to long? Would I?
The power of free attracts people. Something for nothing. I got more free stuff than was even promised to me. I didn't have to buy anything. How much more do we have in the free gift of grace? And isn't it so much more than we ever even hoped it could be?
It was only a piece of chicken ... but it was free.
Yesterday was special though. KFC has a new grilled chicken item and they were giving away one piece per person. With a KFC right across the street from my work, I had to make a dinner run.
I expected a line but this was a little much. When I turned into the parking lot, sort-of, the tail of my car was still hanging out in the road. The drive through line was long and motionless. I spotted an open parking spot and quickly made my move. Already I could feel the excitement and challenge of getting to that chicken.
Inside the store was no different. There must have been twenty people in line waiting to order. Along the side filling every possible seat was another twenty or so people holding little pieces of paper. Each with a facial expression somewhere between aggrivation and anticipation.
I immediately began to worry. "Would I get my chicken? Would there be enough to go around? What were those pieces of paper? Did I need a ticket or some coupon from the newspaper?" I didn't really get the whole news story and so now the worry had set in.
I made my way to the end of the line and began to notice my fellow patrons of free. Everyone was there. Couples, singles, families, a lot of moms with there kids. I would do the same. As a new father to-be I thought about the power of a free meal for my child. Especially here, in this neighborhood. It is not what you would call an affluent neighborhood. I don't believe that this KFC was any more flooded than any other KFC any where else in Dallas, but I did wonder if this was an especially good blessing here.
I could feel my nervous excitement building as I got closer and closer to the counter. Finally it was my turn. I had so many questions. "Is this for real? Are you guys really giving away free chicken? Do I have to buy anything in order to get the free chicken?"
"May I help you?" the cashier asked with a weary voice.
"What do I get for free?" I asked.
"One piece of grilled chicken" she answered.
"It's not the meal? What about the sides and the biscuits?" I shot back at her. I just got here and I'm already working the system.
"Just one piece per person" she answered.
"I work just across the street. Can I get some for my co-workers?"
"They have to be here."
"Alright. One piece of chicken, side of mash potatos and two biscuits please."
Sixty seconds later I was sitting in a booth with the rest of my new friends, ticket in hand, waiting. Waiting for my mana from KFC Heaven. I was so excited. There was a new found since of pride as I watched the countless masses stream in and go hrough the same roller coast of excitement. A few folks asked what was going on. I was now in know and could easy reassure them that the rumors were indeed true. Free chicken abounds here. One piece per person, but you can order extra stuff if you want to.
I sat. I sat and I waited ... nine minutes. That's how long it takes to cook a tray of grilled chicken. Finally the next round of distrubution began. "Would I make the cut? Would they get to my number in this round or would I have to wait another nine minutes?" My mind was spinning. And who waits nine minutes for one piece of chicken anyway. Was this whole thing ridiculous or what. Surely my co-workers were going think I was crazy. Nine minutes for chicken?!?
Oh, that's my number they just called. I'm in! The lady packing my order then asked, "do you want some cole slaw?"
"How 'bout some more mash potatoes?" I said.
She disappeared for a second and return with my completed order: 1 piece of grilled chicken, 2 orders of mash potatos (I only paid for one), and 2 biscuits (I paid for both). She thrust a drink cup into my hand (free) and handed me my order. "Sorry for the wait."
I was almost in shock. Free chicken extra mash and a drink to boot. Whoa!!! Must be my lucky day.
I walked out of that KFC with a new found pride and excitement for life. Oh I had seen others leaving with a grin holding their little box protecting their free chicken treasure but this was now my chicken. I had taken the risk and won the prize.
I GOT MY FREE CHICKEN!!!
Once back at work all my co-workers came in to see and ask and get the story. I could see their desire to make a dinner run themselves but they all hesitated. No faith I guess.
Except one. He left and was back in 5 minutes. It took me more than 25 minutes. He returned empty handed. "That's crazy. I'm not waiting in THAT line just for a piece of chicken. I couldn't even get into the parking lot."
There was a quiet moment and then this co-worker made an interesting observation. "What if people came to Christ like that?"
What if?
What if the lines were so long you couldn't even get in the parking lot? What if the excitement was so great that you could hardly believe it to be real? What if you would wait an extrordinarily long time just get the meal you came for? Would you bring your kids? Would you tell others about the free offer of grace? Would you turn around and go home if the line was to long? Would I?
The power of free attracts people. Something for nothing. I got more free stuff than was even promised to me. I didn't have to buy anything. How much more do we have in the free gift of grace? And isn't it so much more than we ever even hoped it could be?
It was only a piece of chicken ... but it was free.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Confirmation
Sermon preparation for me has always been a wonderful mix of hardwork, diligent study, and expectancy all rolled up in a big blanket of faith. Faith that what I feel in my heart as the timely word is indeed the word for the time.
There have been occassions when I had aboslute certainty that I had heard from Heaven. More often though there is a gentle sense that this word is correct and an exercising of faith that God has made Himself heard and that I'm hearing correctly. The challenge of this faith is that most times the confirmation of the impact of God's word through you is not made known until after the delivery. By then, if you missed the mark it's to late. You can't unpreach a sermon. I thank God that He has always been clear in His preparing me.
I experienced just such a time this past weekend. My father, my wife, and I had just spent three days at a wonderful missions conference and were on our way back to Dallas. First we had a scheduled stop at the Trustee Camp at the Michael's Unit Texas State Prison. I was the scheduled speaker for the evening service and found myself in prayer for the right words to speak. I seemed to only have a glimmer of the light of the message; just enough to keep me looking in the right direction but not enough to totally illuminate the way. I could just make out the next step but not much more than that.
I was directed to Acts 17:26 & 27. Paul was preaching in Athens and explaining that the God who created the universe also planned when and where each man and woman would live. This passage of scripture has been especially comforting to me as a means of providing more meaning to my life than just modern theories of universal chance.
In preparation my mind wondered to a hot Honduran afternoon where I found my self taking a swim on the Cusuna, Honduras beach with a few ministry friends and a small handfull of Cusuna children. My friend, an orthodontist from America, asked me, "Why do you think we were born in the USA with all the opportunities and privileges available to us, instead of being born here in Cusuna?" The answer lies in Acts: "so that men would seek Him."
A trustee camp is a little different than most other prison environments. There was no barded-wire, no guard towers, no heavy doors. There was a brown picket fence around the small yard more like one you would use restrain a puppy than one to restrain an inmate. There was one guard who checked us in and then we walked ourselves to the classroom where church was held. If the men were not all wearing the familiar white jump suite, you could easily forget that some previous action had caused them to be incarcerated.
We were immediately greated by a friendly man named Benett. He was cordual and handsom. He knew my father and seemed genuinely glad to see him. Next we met a man I'm sure I won't soon forget, Pastor Ray. Ray was a short young man full of joy. His personality was contageous without being overboard. One of those people who you just instantly like.
Ray was the pastor of this small flock, caring for his cobgregation as any loving pastor would. He was friendly, sincere, and volunerable. Not what you might expect from an prison inmate.
Several more men filed in. Each seemed friendly. Most greated us, some didn't. I'm not sure exactly when Rody came in. I don't remember seeing him until after the worship had started. He was a tall fit man who seemed very comfortable in his own skin.
I realy began to keep an eye on him once I began to preach. Of the 30 or so men in the room, Rody stood out to me. He maintained eye contact with me through the entire message but there was something else. He seemed to be very in tune with the message. I always believe that each message is crafted for someone in the audience, even if only for one someone. I wondered if maybe Rody, or Ray, or Benton was that someone.
After the message three men prayed to receive Jesus for the first time. What a great privilege it is to introduce someone to Jesus. Afterwards we gave a challenge for each man to seek God more than before, lest we become complacent. Almost every man in the room stood to their feet to answer the challenge. It was an amazing time to watch these men praise God with their whole hearts.
Finally we took some time to pray for Pastor Ray. These men gathered around us, joined hands, and sought God on behalf of their shephard.
I was already on cloud nine, but I had no idea what was still in store for this encounter. As we were greating the men and saying our goodbye's, Rody came up to shake my hand. We exchanged names and I said to him, "I believe God was speaking to you today." He stopped in his tracks and then invited me to follow him to his desk where his Bible lay.
Although choked up, he recounted to me this story:
"this morning I woke up at 4:00am asking myself, 'why am I here?' God lead me this passage of scripture." He pulled out a piece of paper where he had written out Acts 17:26 & 27, the very text of my message. His ability to speak became even more diminshed as he said, "It may seem selfish but I believe God sent you here to confirm His word just to me. He gave me this scripture but I really needed some confirmation."
I was floored. To be the answer to a prayer; and at the same time God was confirming His word to Rody He was confirming His word to me.
"Fear not for I am with you always."
Travis Moffitt
Associate Director
Worldwide Voice In The Wilderness
P.O. Box 740273
Dallas, TX 75374
www.wviw.com
There have been occassions when I had aboslute certainty that I had heard from Heaven. More often though there is a gentle sense that this word is correct and an exercising of faith that God has made Himself heard and that I'm hearing correctly. The challenge of this faith is that most times the confirmation of the impact of God's word through you is not made known until after the delivery. By then, if you missed the mark it's to late. You can't unpreach a sermon. I thank God that He has always been clear in His preparing me.
I experienced just such a time this past weekend. My father, my wife, and I had just spent three days at a wonderful missions conference and were on our way back to Dallas. First we had a scheduled stop at the Trustee Camp at the Michael's Unit Texas State Prison. I was the scheduled speaker for the evening service and found myself in prayer for the right words to speak. I seemed to only have a glimmer of the light of the message; just enough to keep me looking in the right direction but not enough to totally illuminate the way. I could just make out the next step but not much more than that.
I was directed to Acts 17:26 & 27. Paul was preaching in Athens and explaining that the God who created the universe also planned when and where each man and woman would live. This passage of scripture has been especially comforting to me as a means of providing more meaning to my life than just modern theories of universal chance.
In preparation my mind wondered to a hot Honduran afternoon where I found my self taking a swim on the Cusuna, Honduras beach with a few ministry friends and a small handfull of Cusuna children. My friend, an orthodontist from America, asked me, "Why do you think we were born in the USA with all the opportunities and privileges available to us, instead of being born here in Cusuna?" The answer lies in Acts: "so that men would seek Him."
A trustee camp is a little different than most other prison environments. There was no barded-wire, no guard towers, no heavy doors. There was a brown picket fence around the small yard more like one you would use restrain a puppy than one to restrain an inmate. There was one guard who checked us in and then we walked ourselves to the classroom where church was held. If the men were not all wearing the familiar white jump suite, you could easily forget that some previous action had caused them to be incarcerated.
We were immediately greated by a friendly man named Benett. He was cordual and handsom. He knew my father and seemed genuinely glad to see him. Next we met a man I'm sure I won't soon forget, Pastor Ray. Ray was a short young man full of joy. His personality was contageous without being overboard. One of those people who you just instantly like.
Ray was the pastor of this small flock, caring for his cobgregation as any loving pastor would. He was friendly, sincere, and volunerable. Not what you might expect from an prison inmate.
Several more men filed in. Each seemed friendly. Most greated us, some didn't. I'm not sure exactly when Rody came in. I don't remember seeing him until after the worship had started. He was a tall fit man who seemed very comfortable in his own skin.
I realy began to keep an eye on him once I began to preach. Of the 30 or so men in the room, Rody stood out to me. He maintained eye contact with me through the entire message but there was something else. He seemed to be very in tune with the message. I always believe that each message is crafted for someone in the audience, even if only for one someone. I wondered if maybe Rody, or Ray, or Benton was that someone.
After the message three men prayed to receive Jesus for the first time. What a great privilege it is to introduce someone to Jesus. Afterwards we gave a challenge for each man to seek God more than before, lest we become complacent. Almost every man in the room stood to their feet to answer the challenge. It was an amazing time to watch these men praise God with their whole hearts.
Finally we took some time to pray for Pastor Ray. These men gathered around us, joined hands, and sought God on behalf of their shephard.
I was already on cloud nine, but I had no idea what was still in store for this encounter. As we were greating the men and saying our goodbye's, Rody came up to shake my hand. We exchanged names and I said to him, "I believe God was speaking to you today." He stopped in his tracks and then invited me to follow him to his desk where his Bible lay.
Although choked up, he recounted to me this story:
"this morning I woke up at 4:00am asking myself, 'why am I here?' God lead me this passage of scripture." He pulled out a piece of paper where he had written out Acts 17:26 & 27, the very text of my message. His ability to speak became even more diminshed as he said, "It may seem selfish but I believe God sent you here to confirm His word just to me. He gave me this scripture but I really needed some confirmation."
I was floored. To be the answer to a prayer; and at the same time God was confirming His word to Rody He was confirming His word to me.
"Fear not for I am with you always."
Travis Moffitt
Associate Director
Worldwide Voice In The Wilderness
P.O. Box 740273
Dallas, TX 75374
www.wviw.com
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Lane Murray Prison
Gina & I spent part of the day in the Lane Murray Unit Woman's State Prison in Gatesville, TX today. We were there for a Sunday afternoon service. This was our second service (both in a woman's prison) since moving here to Texas. Each time has been pretty sobering.
Our team of 13 volunteers took about 20 minutes to pass through security. We each entered a small room outside the gate were we removed our shoes & pocket contents and then proceeded with a metal detector wand and pat-down search.
Once cleared we made our way, 6 at a time, through the first of several steel gates. This first gate was a heavy chain link door with razor wire at the top. It lead us into a small area about 4' by 4'. Another door, a short walk, 2 more steel doors and another security check point and all of a sudden we were inside.
As we walked down the quarter mile side walk called the "bowling ally" it became clear, that we were in another world. We had passed from the "free-world" into this other world of steel & concrete; order & rules; isolation & confinement.
We made our way into the large chapel at the end of the long walk. It was full of chairs and had a large mural of the sun rising painted on the wall behind the platform. Much like any you'd expect to see in just about any other church in America on a late Sunday afteroon. Empty, but ready. Ready for that life changing encounter brought on by the preaching of the Word of God.
It was my "time on the stump" as some might call it. I had been asked to bring the Word today. I was excited and quite humbled. I've learned through great teachers and my own errors that any opportunity to preached the gospel is a sacred treasure not to be taken lightly.
Our team prayed, discussed our program for the day and then waited. We waited for the C.O.'s (Correctional Officers) to decide it was time to begin. We were clearly on their schedule. Then through the back door came the first line of women. Moms, sisters, daughters, and grandmothers. Like any woman you may stand in line with at the grocery store. Like any soccer mom or PTA leader. Like any woman who may come to visit any church; your church. Gina leaned over and made this same observation. "There are all kinds of women here."
The women filed in, line after line, filling row after row. Most with big smiles; some with stone hard faces; all with hope. Even if not evident on the surface, you could feel the hope grow as each woman entered the room. Hope that somehow today could be different. Hope that this day could end better than it began. Even if they did not realize it themselves, they had hope that Jesus would be there.
Tammy Schafer lead us in 2 worship songs. Then my mother, Betty Moffitt, came and sang. Finally it was time. Time to bring the word. Time to delver the message I felt building in my heart since the day (only 4 days before) when I had been asked to speak. I felt I had one simple message: Forgiveness is Freedom.
I preached from the life of Joseph. How he had been betrayed by his brother, imprissoned by his employer, and forgotten by his friend. Later when given power over all of Egypt Joseph forgave his brothers in the tme of their greatest need. God has forgiven us, how can we not also offer forgiveness. The Lord's message today was, forgive each other so that you can receive His forgiveness and your heart can be set free.
A little different message than what I would expect for a prison, but I believe, God inspired. This was confirmed by the response. About 20 woman responded to give their lives to Christ for the first time. Afterwards, almost every hand of the approximately 200 women, was raised to God in response to an invitation to forgive someone in their life. Truly these incarcerated women found freedom today through the power of God working out forgiveness in their hearts.
Travis Moffitt
Our team of 13 volunteers took about 20 minutes to pass through security. We each entered a small room outside the gate were we removed our shoes & pocket contents and then proceeded with a metal detector wand and pat-down search.
Once cleared we made our way, 6 at a time, through the first of several steel gates. This first gate was a heavy chain link door with razor wire at the top. It lead us into a small area about 4' by 4'. Another door, a short walk, 2 more steel doors and another security check point and all of a sudden we were inside.
As we walked down the quarter mile side walk called the "bowling ally" it became clear, that we were in another world. We had passed from the "free-world" into this other world of steel & concrete; order & rules; isolation & confinement.
We made our way into the large chapel at the end of the long walk. It was full of chairs and had a large mural of the sun rising painted on the wall behind the platform. Much like any you'd expect to see in just about any other church in America on a late Sunday afteroon. Empty, but ready. Ready for that life changing encounter brought on by the preaching of the Word of God.
It was my "time on the stump" as some might call it. I had been asked to bring the Word today. I was excited and quite humbled. I've learned through great teachers and my own errors that any opportunity to preached the gospel is a sacred treasure not to be taken lightly.
Our team prayed, discussed our program for the day and then waited. We waited for the C.O.'s (Correctional Officers) to decide it was time to begin. We were clearly on their schedule. Then through the back door came the first line of women. Moms, sisters, daughters, and grandmothers. Like any woman you may stand in line with at the grocery store. Like any soccer mom or PTA leader. Like any woman who may come to visit any church; your church. Gina leaned over and made this same observation. "There are all kinds of women here."
The women filed in, line after line, filling row after row. Most with big smiles; some with stone hard faces; all with hope. Even if not evident on the surface, you could feel the hope grow as each woman entered the room. Hope that somehow today could be different. Hope that this day could end better than it began. Even if they did not realize it themselves, they had hope that Jesus would be there.
Tammy Schafer lead us in 2 worship songs. Then my mother, Betty Moffitt, came and sang. Finally it was time. Time to bring the word. Time to delver the message I felt building in my heart since the day (only 4 days before) when I had been asked to speak. I felt I had one simple message: Forgiveness is Freedom.
I preached from the life of Joseph. How he had been betrayed by his brother, imprissoned by his employer, and forgotten by his friend. Later when given power over all of Egypt Joseph forgave his brothers in the tme of their greatest need. God has forgiven us, how can we not also offer forgiveness. The Lord's message today was, forgive each other so that you can receive His forgiveness and your heart can be set free.
A little different message than what I would expect for a prison, but I believe, God inspired. This was confirmed by the response. About 20 woman responded to give their lives to Christ for the first time. Afterwards, almost every hand of the approximately 200 women, was raised to God in response to an invitation to forgive someone in their life. Truly these incarcerated women found freedom today through the power of God working out forgiveness in their hearts.
Travis Moffitt
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
New Dad's Club
A few weeks ago my wife greeted me at the door with a small stuffed bunny. Not just any bunny but one that Gina purchased years ago as a gift for our child. At the time we were not even pregnant or trying to be; but even then there was a since that one day ...
Today my life is totally different. Not the circumstances as much as the mindset. It's amazing how much all the same things are now so different. For years people have told me that this would be the case, but the full understanding of this change did not occur until that wonderful day in January.
The way I eat is different. The way I drive is different. The way I look at other parents is different. The way I look at my parents is different.
In a starnge sort of way, I also feel some how inducted into a new fraternal order of men: fathers. As we have begun to make the BIG ANNOUNCEMENT so many people have offered kind congratulatory words. This has been wonderful and uniquely confirming of my new club status. There has been a new and wonderfully strange pride come over me as I tell my co-workers, "my wife and I are expecting." Many of these co-workers are already fathers, and I can immediately see the same shared pride in their eyes. As if to say, "welcome to the club."
I never knew such an organization of great paternal depth exsisted. Sure I've heard of the "proud pappa." I've seen my father-in-law walk proudly and stand tall with his children. I've watched my own father gush over me and my siblings, but never did I realize...
Even now I find it hard to truly describe the fullness of feeling, the width of warmth, the depth of devotion created in me by the simple knowledge that a new life is being formed and created and actually already exsists even now.
It's as though by just being here; by being a man, having a wife, and living life, God in His divine wisdom has seen fit to allow me to be a part of the miracle of the creation of life. A participation that I'm sure I am unworthy (and fear that I am unqualified) to enjoy.
A whole depth of manhood has now become mine. I have joined a new fraternity of men. I have graduated into a new Band of Brothers. I can feel it. I am already leaning heavily into it's embrace. Like a new strength, a new shield, a new banner, a new name.
This child is yet unborn and still, I am FATHER.
Today my life is totally different. Not the circumstances as much as the mindset. It's amazing how much all the same things are now so different. For years people have told me that this would be the case, but the full understanding of this change did not occur until that wonderful day in January.
The way I eat is different. The way I drive is different. The way I look at other parents is different. The way I look at my parents is different.
In a starnge sort of way, I also feel some how inducted into a new fraternal order of men: fathers. As we have begun to make the BIG ANNOUNCEMENT so many people have offered kind congratulatory words. This has been wonderful and uniquely confirming of my new club status. There has been a new and wonderfully strange pride come over me as I tell my co-workers, "my wife and I are expecting." Many of these co-workers are already fathers, and I can immediately see the same shared pride in their eyes. As if to say, "welcome to the club."
I never knew such an organization of great paternal depth exsisted. Sure I've heard of the "proud pappa." I've seen my father-in-law walk proudly and stand tall with his children. I've watched my own father gush over me and my siblings, but never did I realize...
Even now I find it hard to truly describe the fullness of feeling, the width of warmth, the depth of devotion created in me by the simple knowledge that a new life is being formed and created and actually already exsists even now.
It's as though by just being here; by being a man, having a wife, and living life, God in His divine wisdom has seen fit to allow me to be a part of the miracle of the creation of life. A participation that I'm sure I am unworthy (and fear that I am unqualified) to enjoy.
A whole depth of manhood has now become mine. I have joined a new fraternity of men. I have graduated into a new Band of Brothers. I can feel it. I am already leaning heavily into it's embrace. Like a new strength, a new shield, a new banner, a new name.
This child is yet unborn and still, I am FATHER.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Why do we go to church?
Why do people go to church?
Why do people get up early, put on our Sunday best, drive across town to come to a common building to ... what?
Why are we here?
Bustling in I watch people from all walks, with all walks and strides flow in to one stream like creeks brought together into one river.
Here at a postmodern down town church I see different faces but all somehow the same. Same type of "hip" dress code; same side cheek kiss; same polite over excided greeting; same coffee in hand. Heck, they serve the coffee here.
Across town I know there's a more traditional church where everyone is uniquely dress in the same suit for men and dress for women; hugs and hellos abound. Handshakes and surface updates about the weeks work, the kids, the nice things. All this as we continue to walk towards those big open double doors guarded by two smiling individuals dressed appropriately, armed with a name tag and a "good morning"; maybe a program in hand. The music has started. The lights are low, or not depending on the neighborhood. There's a man up ahead waiving us forward to two seats in the middle of a row of strangers, and I wonder "why are they here?"
Why do these people have to be on this row with these two empty seats? Who are these people any way and what strange serious of unfortunate events has lead them to this building, to this row, on this Sunday? Why are they here? For that matter, why am I here? Why do we go to church?
I know the theological answer. The Bible says not to forsake the gathering of ourselves together. In other words, don't isolate yourself from the rest of the community of those who believe in Jesus. I also know the worship based answer. There is truly something amazing about a group of people together in one room, joined by the harmony of the music joined in song to sing praises to God. As well, I understand the teaching aspect (it is healthy to hear the Bible taught) and the social aspect (it is good to fellowship with friends) but why am I here?
I wonder what is the real reason this middle-aged man in the red shirt is here; or the young man in the gray sweater, or the pregnant lady, or the older couple? What got them up this morning, got them dressed, got them in their car, and into this room to sit here by me?
Was it his mama? As a child, did his mama roust him from bed every Sunday morning with more varicosity than a school day? Did she throw him in the shower, wrestle his clothes on and fight his boyish hair into place with unrelenting determination? Did she literally drag him out of the car and into the nursery with such consistency that the experience is now burned into the core of his being? Would he feel distant from God or in some violation of his mother's memory if he just skipped today?
Why is she here? Is it her friends? is this an opportunity to show off a new coat, a new hat, a new dress, or just way another chance to engage face to face with others equally trying to impress her as she is trying to impress her as she is trying to impress... Is her heart won by her savior her lover or her friend? Is Jesus any of those to her?
Did that couple come today to meet Jesus or to meet a client? Would they be here if the Jone's were not? Is this church or a social club? Does their presence here nourish their soul or their emotions? Does this attendance add to or take away from their attendance to the clubroom or the board room or the locker room or the mom's room?
And what about me? I'm going to see my friends today and I like that. I want to see them and I want them to want to see me. My hair is how I want it to be. My clothes are just so, and on purpose. I'm also going to see a co-worker today. We'll exchange some small talk. He'll side hug my wife. But will we enjoy a meal; a story; a moment; a heart? Not today. And yes, I'll honor my mother's wishes as well. I bathed myself, wrestled on my own clothes. I gave up on the hair years ago. But if she asks me later this week, "how was church" I'll actually have an answer.
So I must ask myself, did I come here today to appease my conscious or appease my God-hunger? Am I here to see a friend’s face or Jesus' face? Would I rather impress my co-worker or my co-laborer in the salvation of the world? Is it me or Jesus that brought us here today?
One last question, does it matter? At the end of the message I was both convicted and encouraged, so does it matter how or why I got there? If I start for the wrong reasons but end in the right place then is it ok that my mother haunting me is what got me out of bed? I think if my heart stopped turning to God then the reason may have won out over the results. I think the same must be true for the rest of those on the row with me. Maybe God is using that persistent mother, that flighty-friend, that quiet co-worker to get us here so that He can meet with us. Maybe, just maybe, God is creative enough or man-hungry enough for us that He rousts us from bed, throws us in the shower, wrestles our clothes on us, fights our hair into place just so that we'll come and focus on Him for a while.
Why do people get up early, put on our Sunday best, drive across town to come to a common building to ... what?
Why are we here?
Bustling in I watch people from all walks, with all walks and strides flow in to one stream like creeks brought together into one river.
Here at a postmodern down town church I see different faces but all somehow the same. Same type of "hip" dress code; same side cheek kiss; same polite over excided greeting; same coffee in hand. Heck, they serve the coffee here.
Across town I know there's a more traditional church where everyone is uniquely dress in the same suit for men and dress for women; hugs and hellos abound. Handshakes and surface updates about the weeks work, the kids, the nice things. All this as we continue to walk towards those big open double doors guarded by two smiling individuals dressed appropriately, armed with a name tag and a "good morning"; maybe a program in hand. The music has started. The lights are low, or not depending on the neighborhood. There's a man up ahead waiving us forward to two seats in the middle of a row of strangers, and I wonder "why are they here?"
Why do these people have to be on this row with these two empty seats? Who are these people any way and what strange serious of unfortunate events has lead them to this building, to this row, on this Sunday? Why are they here? For that matter, why am I here? Why do we go to church?
I know the theological answer. The Bible says not to forsake the gathering of ourselves together. In other words, don't isolate yourself from the rest of the community of those who believe in Jesus. I also know the worship based answer. There is truly something amazing about a group of people together in one room, joined by the harmony of the music joined in song to sing praises to God. As well, I understand the teaching aspect (it is healthy to hear the Bible taught) and the social aspect (it is good to fellowship with friends) but why am I here?
I wonder what is the real reason this middle-aged man in the red shirt is here; or the young man in the gray sweater, or the pregnant lady, or the older couple? What got them up this morning, got them dressed, got them in their car, and into this room to sit here by me?
Was it his mama? As a child, did his mama roust him from bed every Sunday morning with more varicosity than a school day? Did she throw him in the shower, wrestle his clothes on and fight his boyish hair into place with unrelenting determination? Did she literally drag him out of the car and into the nursery with such consistency that the experience is now burned into the core of his being? Would he feel distant from God or in some violation of his mother's memory if he just skipped today?
Why is she here? Is it her friends? is this an opportunity to show off a new coat, a new hat, a new dress, or just way another chance to engage face to face with others equally trying to impress her as she is trying to impress her as she is trying to impress... Is her heart won by her savior her lover or her friend? Is Jesus any of those to her?
Did that couple come today to meet Jesus or to meet a client? Would they be here if the Jone's were not? Is this church or a social club? Does their presence here nourish their soul or their emotions? Does this attendance add to or take away from their attendance to the clubroom or the board room or the locker room or the mom's room?
And what about me? I'm going to see my friends today and I like that. I want to see them and I want them to want to see me. My hair is how I want it to be. My clothes are just so, and on purpose. I'm also going to see a co-worker today. We'll exchange some small talk. He'll side hug my wife. But will we enjoy a meal; a story; a moment; a heart? Not today. And yes, I'll honor my mother's wishes as well. I bathed myself, wrestled on my own clothes. I gave up on the hair years ago. But if she asks me later this week, "how was church" I'll actually have an answer.
So I must ask myself, did I come here today to appease my conscious or appease my God-hunger? Am I here to see a friend’s face or Jesus' face? Would I rather impress my co-worker or my co-laborer in the salvation of the world? Is it me or Jesus that brought us here today?
One last question, does it matter? At the end of the message I was both convicted and encouraged, so does it matter how or why I got there? If I start for the wrong reasons but end in the right place then is it ok that my mother haunting me is what got me out of bed? I think if my heart stopped turning to God then the reason may have won out over the results. I think the same must be true for the rest of those on the row with me. Maybe God is using that persistent mother, that flighty-friend, that quiet co-worker to get us here so that He can meet with us. Maybe, just maybe, God is creative enough or man-hungry enough for us that He rousts us from bed, throws us in the shower, wrestles our clothes on us, fights our hair into place just so that we'll come and focus on Him for a while.
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