Ruminations

As parents we set behavioral boundaries for kids, but their potential and imaginations are unlimited. God creates us that way. On any given day, my daughter is planning to grow up to be a princess or a puppy. She is limited by neither genealogy nor genetics. My son will tell you he is going to be a rock star, knight, garbage man, paper boy, astronaut, Jungle Cruise guy, or Aladdin depending on what mood he’s in. It doesn’t occur to either of them that they can or can’t do something!

We internalize limits. We grow up and grow old. What is worse, we become small people with a small God. I think part of Neos is regaining the limitlessness of youth. Regaining the idea that we have been created by a limitless God to have limitless dreams and imaginations.

What limits are you listening to? “I’m too old.” “I have a family to think about.” “I have too much invested in where I am.” “It’s too crazy.” “It’s never been done.” “What if I fail?” “It’s too expensive.” This list goes on forever. Remember this: we serve an unlimited God with unlimited resources. A God who looked at a few loaves and fishes and saw a banquet for five thousand people.

–In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day

Funny how people keep asking me about the name of the new church we’re planting.

The one question I’ve gotten more than others has been is “Why ‘The Message?’” and “What is ‘The Message?’”

Perhaps this will help explain:

This is the message we heard from Jesus and now declare to you:
God is light, and there is no darkness in him at all.

The Message is about Jesus; THAT is what we point to and why we exist.

I know that is very simplistic, but it is the reality behind the name…

Benaiah. Lion. Pit. Snowy day.

Thanks to Mark Batterson, many know the story.

It wasn’t an accident; he didn’t fall into the pit that held a lion. It wasn’t an attack; the lion hadn’t come after him. The circumstances surrounding the event were simply that, circumstances; the snow, the pit… they were merely the settings, not the story.

Benaiah chased the lion down into the pit. He did it on purpose. He wanted the lion dead. Period.

Benaiah isn’t remarkable, he shows up what we are to be doing.

I’ve been silent for almost a week. A testimony to my current state of busyness.

I’ve just rolled back into the Port City after several days over in the commercial capital of North Carolina, also known as Charlotte. Quite a trip it was.

We packed up the leadership team of The Message Church and headed first to Mahesh Chavda’s All Nations Church for a whirlwind conference at a spiritual banquet. Our overseers Ted Meehan and Paul Tyndall, along with their oh-so-lovely-and-delightful wives Melissa and Sandy, caravaned over and spent some fascinating, spiritual well drinking, bonding and growing time under the tutelage of the Chavdas, Jane Hamon and John Paul Jackson.

Not only did we all grow personally in our spiritual warrior preparedness, we grew closer as a team. Oh, how I am so blessed to have folks like these around me!

This morning we sojourned over to Elevation Church to see church excellence in operation firsthand. We were treated like royalty and came away like kids with visions of sugarplums dancing in our heads on the night before Christmas.

Tired but fired up. Head chocked full of info, ideas and clamorings desiring to see the light of day. Exciting events to be rolled out next week for The Message. I wonder if I’m going to be any less busy than I was over the last week?

I just received an email that bothers me greatly.

It seems that we are in dire straights here in America. People losing their jobs, homes being foreclosed left and right, the federal government spending billions on pork at record levels when we’re all tightening the belt trying to figure out how we’re going to make it. I hear of churches cutting their budgets, trimming their staffs; giving is down, the need is up.

I know it’s bad; I feel it, too.

Then, I get this:

Joe, I’m sending you this email to ask, if possible, for help so that I can eat.

This from one of our pastors in Brazil. He’s given up everything that he has, including his food, so that others may hear the gospel and eat. Now he is in a serious bind. Persecuted, literally, for his faith, he is the object of scorn and derision of the “evangelical” churches because he insists on propagating the Word and not selling “indulgences.” Those who are his “brothers” are trying to take what he has and block every attempt he makes to tell a city living in extreme darkness about Jesus.

He is literally on their hit list to run out of town or destroy, whichever comes first.

His one means for food has been shut down; the overwhelming need of the people he works to reach has taken his last dime. And he is now hungry.

I’ve mentioned him before. I’m honestly in awe of him and his faith. But even Moses had his day when he didn’t think he could take one more step.

$300 per month would feed him and pay his rent. Anyone brave enough to partner with me? Are contributions are fully tax-deductible.

One-time, any amount
$30 monthly
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Sometimes, listen to the verbage coming out of people’s mouths about Christianity, it sounds just like this:

Why is it we have to talk in “code?” Should we be amazed when the world doesn’t listen?

Just read this. And it got me to thinking.

Nairobi, Kenya (CNN) — Kenyan wildlife officials are ferrying thousands of zebras and wildebeest to a park in the country’s south to feed starving lions and hyenas, and prevent a conflict with humans.

The lions are hungry and have no food. Zebras are being rounded up to be taken to the lions. For food. Not good if you are a zebra.

What strikes me is that the lions are in trouble. They can’t find food. They will potentially become extinct if they don’t get “fresh meat.” The zebras are both safe and free. Following a herd mentality, they’re being gathered for “relocation” to some place “better.” The humans are working for the lions, but the zebras are going along with it.

Does anyone else see a parallel here?

In the last five days I’ve been in the emergency room three times.

It hasn’t been about me. Well, only in a round about way. I’m becoming a good “hand holder.”

Each time I was called consumed hours of my time. The only significance of that is that many of those hours were spent sitting. When you sit, you have plenty of time on your hands to observe. I was able to observe in the morning, the afternoon and the wee hours of the night. Observation is an interesting past time, both entertaining and disturbing, at least in the ER.

So, I thought I’d share some of the insight I’ve gained through my lengthy observation time:

• There are a lot of sick and hurting people in this town; if the ER were a restaurant, you’d be hard pressed to get a seat.
• The ER is much like Baskin-Robbins; you have to take a number and wait your turn — I’m not sure how many flavors they have, but the pills I saw sure were pretty.
• I wouldn’t want the receptionist’s job.
• When people come in shouting that they’ve “got a gun,” the police show up really quick.
• I have a desire to wear one of those surgical masks, not to look like a doctor, but to avoid getting what everyone has.
• Whatever happened to everyone wearing matching scrubs?
• Some of the night nurses are scary.
• Is it really necessary to talk in the speaker mode of your hot pink phone to your boy friend to arrange your next tryst and to give details of the last one?
• Motion activated doors may not be the best choice for a heavily trafficked ER — they’re open more than shut.
• Who picks the colors for a hospital’s decor… he must’ve been sick.
• Stethoscopes make anyone look important.
• Plastic catheters? Com’on!
• Some people are just plain weird (I wonder if they think the same about me?)
• The little tv’s in the ICU rooms need cable. The numbers and lines are always changing.
• Beds with racing wheels concern me, especially when the attendant says she is always bumping into things.
• And lastly, this is the “emergency” room, so why does it take so long to see a doc?

Friends, though well-intentioned, may be far afield when offering advice in your circumstances.

Job had some good friends who really wished to help him. Instead, they increased his misery. He stated his feelings like this:

I’ve had it with you—I’m going directly to God. You graffiti my life with lies. You’re a bunch of pompous quacks! I wish you’d shut your mouths—silence is your only claim to wisdom. —Job

Drive-by graffiting of your life by pompous quacks is difficult to clean up.

I’m finding it ever so interesting to see people’s response to supernatural activity. Most simply ignore it; some get mad at it; others want to redefine it into some aberration of the natural. By far the majority don’t believe it.

Yet, everyone says they would love to see it.

Funny…