In the Twinkling of an Eye

During an early 1900’s expedition to the South Pole, British explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton left a few men on Elephant Island, promising he would return. Later, when he tried to go back, huge icebergs blocked the way. But suddenly, as if by a miracle, an avenue opened in the ice, and Shackleton was able to get through.

His men, ready and waiting, quickly scrambled aboard the ship. No sooner had they cleared the island than the ice crashed together behind them. Contemplating their narrow escape, Shackleton told the rescued sailors, “It’s fortunate you were ready to go!” To which his men replied, “We never gave up hope. We kept our gear packed and reminded each other, ‘the boss may come today.’”

Being stranded on an island near the South Pole sounds to me like it would be about as much fun as having hot needles poked in your eyes. But you have to admire Shackleton’s men — they kept watching, hoping, and waiting, altogether certain that their leader would follow through with his promise, and return to get them.

Of course, the best thing about that story is that it brings to mind another promise made, one that will also be fulfilled in a moment least expected. The Bible describes it like this:

“In a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet … for the trumpet wi! sound, the dead wi! be raised imperishable, and we wi! be changed.” (I Corinthians 15:52)

The Scripture makes it clear that Jesus is coming back to get His followers. It’s the event the Bible calls the rapture, where believers will be caught up to meet Him in the air (see I Thessalonians 4). It could be today … or tomorrow … or next week … or next year. There’s nothing, in terms of Biblical prophecy yet to be fulfilled, that stands in the way of His return. It could happen at any moment.

So the only question is, are you ready for that trumpet to sound? Is your gear packed and ready to go?

If not, perhaps it’s time to start living like one of Shackleton’s men, with this hope and expectation:

“The Boss may come today.”

Dealing with Distractions

“Other seed fell among thorns which grew up with it and choked the plants. The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go on their way, they are choked by life’s worries, riches, and pleasures, and they don’t mature.” — Luke 8:7,14

All of us have them. No one is immune.

Often they’re minor — a driveway moment with a favorite radio program, a funny email that’s been forwarded to us, a glance at a TV show that ends up drawing us in. We know we should be getting on with whatever we’re supposed to be doing, but we allow ourselves to get sidetracked.

But sometimes, the distractions in our lives can be much more complicated and involved — to the point that they begin to choke out the effectiveness of God at work within us. Jesus put those kinds of distractions into three major categories:

# • Worries. Some of us have raised worry to an absolute art form. We play an endless game of “what if?” with every situation that comes our way — and waste massive amounts of time and emotional energy as a result.

# • Riches. We chase — and covet — what we don’t have, as though it’s our God-given right to own more than we could ever possibly need. Instead of being content with what we do have, we climb aboard the merry-go-round of materialism, endlessly pursuing the next new possession.

# • Pleasures. The culture says, “If it feels good, do it.” And while most of us are much too disciplined to wantonly give ourselves over to sin, we still fall prey to “pursuit of pleasure” thinking — albeit in more subtle and “acceptable” ways.

And here’s the rub: It would be one thing if Jesus was addressing those who didn’t know any better. But when you study the Parable of the Sower — the passage from Luke 8 quoted above — it becomes obvious that Jesus is not talking about unbelievers. He’s talking about us. The church. The ones who have heard the Word, but fail to fully mature because of the weeds, the thorns, the distractions.

So how do we avoid being “choked out” on our way to maturity? How do we deal with the distractions that threaten to derail us?

One good way to think about it is to “walk the talk” — in other words, to make sure that our actions match up to our words. When we allow our faith to guide us, we’ll be living (what we do with our time) and giving (what we do with our treasure) in a way that makes God’s ownership over our lives abundantly clear to everyone around us.

Because the truth is, we don’t have to remain stuck in immaturity. We can blossom into the fullness of everything God has in store for us, and make a lasting impact on the culture … if we deal with the distractions.

I Wish I Had Never Been Born

It can strike at any moment, and even the strongest of believers are not immune. Everything is rocking along fine, and then — bam. Something happens, and suddenly your whole world gets turned upside down.

Most of us can deal with the minor annoyances and inconveniences of life and keep our bearings. But when major, life-changing events happen — a death in the family, a serious illness, a complete reversal of our financial situation — our lives can begin to spin perilously out of control. And often, as Job experienced, calamity strikes a multi-faceted blow: A divorce that also decimates our social network of friends and extended family; or a medical diagnosis that not only strikes at the core of our health and wellness, but threatens our financial security as well. When we get blindsided like that, we often fall victim to the same type of thinking that gripped Job. You remember how he put it, right?

 

I wish I had never been born. (Job 3:1–3)

I wish I had died at birth. (Job 3:11)

I wish I could die now. (Job 3:20–22)

When despair settles over our soul like a cold, damp fog, it’s tempting to want to simply give up. We begin to think things will never change, that this current situation we’re facing is our new lot in life. Like Job, we completely lose our perspective, allowing our current circumstances to lead us down a path of despondency and utter discouragement.

If you wait until you’re in the grip of a crisis, you run the very real risk of falling into Job- think, where despair takes root and multiplies. But there’s a better alternative. Before you find yourself in the throes of discouragement, begin a daily regimen that will help you navigate through when a crisis hits. Specifically:

# • Memorize Scripture. Hiding God’s Word in your heart will give the Holy Spirit the ammunition you need for the dark days ahead — and also enrich your prayer life.

# • Watch what, and who, you listen to. Fill your mind with positive, godly thoughts and messages. Walk away from negativity, in all of its forms.

# • Build healthy relationships. Invest in friendships that will help you through the difficult times — and be that kind of friend yourself.

# • Maintain physical exercise. Keeping your body active and fit is one of the best ways to stave off the depression that accompanies difficult circumstances.

# • Remember that God is sovereign. Nothing you’ll ever face is a surprise to Him. He’s promised to walk with you through every difficulty. Take Him at His word.

Like the old saying goes, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. And, as an added benefit — you’ll find that you still get to enjoy your birthday!

 

I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. (John 10:10)

 

What constitutes a full life? How do we actually attain the life of which Jesus spoke – the one full of abundance, contentment and fruitfulness, where we live in the quiet confidence of God’s great love for us? How does an ordinary person find the key to a spiritual existence that delivers on the promises we hear so much about, but seldom see played out in our everyday lives?

 

Those are the questions I have pondered for years. If the answer was simply “more knowledge about the Bible” then it would seem more of us would be living that life, if only by virtue of the fact we’re alive at a time when access to information has never been so accessible to the masses. Any number of software programs and websites put the Scriptures at our fingertips, inviting us to quickly search and take in all that the Bible has to say on any easily searched topic.

 

But it’s not just knowledge we need. Knowledge without understanding is simply an exercise in becoming educated beyond our own intelligence, the ability to give the “right” answer without really knowing why it’s the right answer. The pursuit of knowledge alone will leave us smart in our heads, but empty where it counts the most, barren and hollow in our hearts.

 

As I see it, that’s one of the main problems among believers today. In our quest to develop a sound theology, we’ve reduced the inscrutable mysteries of God into a series of doctrinal statements about this, that and the other thing, attempting to wrap our minds around something we can only fully fathom with our hearts.

 

Christianity was never intended to be an exercise in intellectual superiority, where we “prove” that we’re right and everyone else is wrong. Instead, it’s intended to be life – vital, growing, soul-changing life – that refreshes not only us, but everyone around us as well.

 

I’m convinced that’s why Jesus, by and large, spent most of His ministry telling stories. He didn’t give lectures. He didn’t teach doctrine. He told stories. Stories that connect us to the reality of life as we know and live it. Stories that illustrate truths we wouldn’t otherwise understand. Stories that illuminate the very heart of God. Stories that make manifest the life He freely offers us, a life of fullness and abundance.

 

It is in the stories that we find our way, for in those stories we see ourselves, fully exposed, laid open and bare in ways that invite a closer look, a more thorough examination of who we are and how we’ve been living. It’s not about knowledge, per se; it’s about understanding, an understanding that penetrates deeply when we see and feel and experience ourselves as the actor on the stage, the character in the play that is unfolding before us.

 

Of all the stories Jesus told, one has captured my heart like no other. I think it’s the most elegant parable of all, the very heart of the Gospel, a saga that unites the love and compassion of God with those who have gone out of their way to prove they don’t deserve it.

 

 

 

 

It’s a story Jesus told in response to muttering by religious leaders of His day regarding the people He was hanging out with – tax collectors and other sordid types. To address their complaint regarding His “inappropriate behavior,” Jesus tells three parables in succession, about a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost son. They’re presented in that order, each building upon the other, each illustrating the very essence of God’s heart. If you had 100 sheep and lost one, said Jesus, would you not leave the 99 behind to look for the one, and when you found it, would you not rejoice? And if you had ten silver coins and lost one, would you not search carefully for the one that’s missing, and rejoice when you found it?

 

One out of a hundred sheep is valuable, one of ten coins more so. But those two stories merely set the stage for what comes next: If a father lost a son, and then – miracle of miracles – found him again, would he not rejoice?

 

It all depends whom you ask.

 

What I love best about this parable is that we see ourselves. It’s as though Jesus is holding a giant mirror in front of us as He speaks, inviting us to look intently at the image reflecting back. There’s something all too familiar about those brothers, those two sons of their father, and it makes no difference your gender or birth order as you interact with this tale. In them we see us, in ways that plumb the depths of our soul and reveal parts of our hearts that, frankly, we’d rather not see. In their issues we find our issues, timeless and universal, played out in ways that inform and give insight to our own life, our own journey, if we’ll but take the time to look, listen and learn.

 

The theme of being “lost” runs cover to cover throughout the Scripture. Isaiah tells us that we all “like sheep have gone astray, each has turned to his own way.” In the New Testament, Jesus often reminds us that the primary purpose for which He left heaven was “to seek and to save that which is lost.”

 

Which is to say, we’ve all been the prodigal, in one form or another. Likewise, we’ve each played the role of the elder brother, reacting to the grace of God extended toward others in self-righteous and self-protecting ways. And we’re all called to be the father, extending unconditional love and compassion toward those who have hurt us, those who have no right to even ask for forgiveness, much less receive it.

 

In the parable of the Prodigal Son, Jesus invites us to find the life we all long for: a life that’s full and abundant and free, a life that reflects a heart transformed by the very love and compassion of God. We won’t get there by studying doctrine, nor by denying our humanity, in some misguided attempt to “live above” our inclination to veer off in our own direction; rather, we’ll find fullness by immersing ourselves in the story of our lives, acknowledging that we, like everyone else, are prone to wander, prone to rebellion and resentment, in need of compassion and forgiveness and kindness and love.

 

Only by seeing the truth for what it is will we ever open the door to true and lasting change, change that ushers in a new understandingabout both ourselves and God, and in the process brings to us the life we’ve been seeking all along.

 

Knowing those things is one thing; interacting with them as they play out through the characters in the story is quite another. It’s the difference, I think, between knowledge and understanding.

 

In my book “The Prodigal” you’ll read a story. It’s a tale of potential and rebellion, recovery and forgiveness, resentment and compassion. It’s not just some story – it’s your story and my story. It’s the pathway we all follow, in some form or fashion, in our attempt to deal with the complexities of life, our attempt to fill the empty places within.

 

It’s the parable Jesus told, as I have imagined it unfolding – a “story inside a parable.” It’s our story…and it speaks as loudly today as it did when it was first told.

 

(Adapted from the introduction to “The Prodigal: A Story Inside a Parable” by Mark Evans.

 

Something to Talk About

 

Here’s a question: What do people think about, when they think of you?

 

And another to go with it: What do people talk about, when they talk about your church?

 

There’s little doubt they’re thinking – and talking – about something. The only question is, what?

 

Experience tells me that a church has a tendency to focus on the next negative thing. It could be a staff member who had to be let go for one reason or another, someone who had a small but vocal following. Or building plans that were altered, eliminating several pet projects in the process. Or a change, however insignificant, to the worship service. Even something as simple as redirecting the traffic flow in and out of the parking lot.

 

As Mark Twain once remarked, “the only person who likes change is a wet baby.” Change – of any kind – is almost always greeted with a negative reaction. It’s the nature of people. After all, it’s much more comfortable to “go with what you know” than to deal with an interruption in your routine, even if you believe the resulting change will eventually be helpful. We all have a tendency to get set in our ways and resist the new and different.

 

But change is a part of life – and a crucial part of any growing and thriving church. Which is why it’s imperative that, as a leader, you set the tone of the conversation when it comes to what people are talking about.

 

The greatest danger to your church is not going to come from some mysterious outside force. It’s going to come from within. It’s not the enemy at the gates that we have to worry about – we all know that “the gates of hell” will not prevail against us. Rather, it’s the internal conversation, especially in the midst of change. It’s all the hurt feelings and harm that go hand in hand when those conversations begin to take on a life of their own.

 

Stop and think about all the changes – big and small – that have taken place in your church during the past year. Then consider this fact: For the vast majority of your people, the “default reaction” to those changes was negative.

 

Think they’ll just keep those thoughts to themselves? Think they’ll just blindly accept that you and your leadership team must know what’s best, as they line up behind you to embrace yet another round of change?

 

Think again.

 

Which is why it becomes absolutely critical that you become “the focus factor.” As the leader, you get to determine the focus of the church. You’re the one who gets to set the pace. You’re the one who determines what the conversation will be about.

 

So give them something positive to talk about!

 

In my ministry, I consistently focus on communicating that “the most important person at Rock Creek is the next one we reach.” It’s something I set before the church on a regular basis. I want them to remember that we’re all about meeting the real needs of people, through a wide variety of practical, hands-on ministries. I want them to know that the vision they’re hearing from me, the direction we’re headed, is worthy of their time, energy and commitment. I talk about our successes. I highlight the opportunities. I introduce the volunteer leaders. I make the church aware of the people whose lives have been changed because of the impact of a particular ministry.

 

Because this I know: Either I’ll be setting the tone of the conversation – or someone else will fill the void. It’s as simple as that.

 

When it comes to the discourse in your church – make sure you give them something worth talking about.

 

 

 

He is, perhaps, the most iconic of American inventors, the man who gave us the microphone, light bulb, talking movies, and more than 1,000 other things. But on a December night in 1914, Thomas Edison suffered a setback that might have destroyed a lesser man. A spontaneous combustion broke out in his factory, consuming every flammable item in its path. In spite of a valiant effort by firefighters, everything was destroyed. At age 67, he had lost it all.

The inventor’s 24-year-old son, Charles, stood by his father’s side as they looked over the ruins the next morning. “There is great value in disaster,” Edison told his son, “all of our mistakes are burned up. Thank God we can start anew.”

Three weeks after the fire, Thomas Edison unveiled the world’s very first phonograph.

No one wants to deal with the sudden loss of everything they’ve spent a lifetime working for. But disasters happen — just ask any of our friends and neighbors in Vilonia, or those in Alabama, or even the residents of New Orleans who still struggle to recover from hurricane Katrina. By definition, a disaster is a sudden, calamitous event, over which we have absolutely no control.

So how do you deal with the aftermath?

In that regard, we can learn a lot from the life of Job. After losing it all — his livestock, his servants, even his children — the Bible tells us, in two short verses, about his response:

“ A t this, Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fe! to the ground in worship, and said:
“N aked I came “om my mother’s womb, and naked I wi! depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;
May the name of the Lord be praised.”
(Job 1:20–21)

Did you catch it? First he grieved: “Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head.” Then he worshiped. That was followed by a deliberate focus on an eternal perspective: “N aked I came “om my mother’s womb, and naked I wi! depart.” He trusted God’s sovereignty: “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.” And he refused to allow bitterness to take root in his heart:

“ May the name of the Lord be praised.”

Easy? No way. Not by a long shot. Nobody would willingly choose to go through that kind of suffering — or a calamity of any sort, for that matter.

But as Edison pointed out, “thank God we can start anew” in the face of disaster. And then Job takes it a step further. Starting over means bringing one crucial, indispensable item

along on the journey: Our faith. 

He is, perhaps, the most iconic of American inventors, the man who gave us the microphone, light bulb, talking movies, and more than 1,000 other things. But on a December night in 1914, Thomas Edison suffered a setback that might have destroyed a lesser man. A spontaneous combustion broke out in his factory, consuming every flammable item in its path. In spite of a valiant effort by firefighters, everything was destroyed. At age 67, he had lost it all.

The inventor’s 24-year-old son, Charles, stood by his father’s side as they looked over the ruins the next morning. “There is great value in disaster,” Edison told his son, “all of our mistakes are burned up. Thank God we can start anew.”

Three weeks after the fire, Thomas Edison unveiled the world’s very first phonograph.

No one wants to deal with the sudden loss of everything they’ve spent a lifetime working for. But disasters happen — just ask any of our friends and neighbors in Vilonia, or those in Alabama, or even the residents of New Orleans who still struggle to recover from hurricane Katrina. By definition, a disaster is a sudden, calamitous event, over which we have absolutely no control.

So how do you deal with the aftermath?

In that regard, we can learn a lot from the life of Job. After losing it all — his livestock, his servants, even his children — the Bible tells us, in two short verses, about his response:

“ A t this, Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fe! to the ground in worship, and said:
“N aked I came “om my mother’s womb, and naked I wi! depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;
May the name of the Lord be praised.”
(Job 1:20–21)

Did you catch it? First he grieved: “Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head.” Then he worshiped. That was followed by a deliberate focus on an eternal perspective: “N aked I came “om my mother’s womb, and naked I wi! depart.” He trusted God’s sovereignty: “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.” And he refused to allow bitterness to take root in his heart:

“ May the name of the Lord be praised.”

Easy? No way. Not by a long shot. Nobody would willingly choose to go through that kind of suffering — or a calamity of any sort, for that matter.

But as Edison pointed out, “thank God we can start anew” in the face of disaster. And then Job takes it a step further. Starting over means bringing one crucial, indispensable item

along on the journey: Our faith.

Potential

A while back, I had the privilege of consulting with a vibrant, growing church in Houston, TX. It was exciting to be with a leadership team that both wants to grow , and is also willing to do whatever it takes to bring about positive change in their ministry environment.

The phrase they used, over and over again, was “be brutally honest.” They wanted to know , with no holds barred, what it would take for them to achieve a new level of excellence in their pursuit of being all that God has called them to be. Their attitude was incredibly refreshing: Instead of resisting change, and being defensive about the things they were doing, they embraced the idea of thinking differently about a number of issues, and were enthusiastic about the plans we discussed to change their focus in a number of areas.

On the way home, I thought about the incredible potential that church has, and how the staff’s willingness to embrace change made all the difference in the world, as it relates to the growth that’s sure to come their way in the weeks and months ahead. And I also wondered about this: What would it look like in your life, if you were to invite someone to be “brutally honest” with you about the things that need to change, in order for you to live up to your full, God-given potential? What would a personal consultant — a life coach — see in you, that stands in the way between where you are currently and where you could be … if only you had the courage to embrace an honest assessment of your life?

All too often, we’d rather stay stuck, doing things the way we’ve always done them, instead of striking out into the uncharted territory of true life change. And as a result, we remain mired in mediocrity , unwilling to face ourselves with honesty . Frankly, it’s just easier to stay where we are, surrounded by the blind spots that have gotten us here in the first place.

The truth is, on our own, we can’t always see the pathway that will lead us from where we are to where we want and need to be. That’s the value of having someone else, someone you trust, someone who is a bit further down the pathway themselves, who can speak into your life with honesty as they help you move in the right direction.

It takes courage. It takes a willingness to embrace the hard work of change. And it takes a desire on your part for that person to be “brutally honest.” But if you want to reach your full potential, and be all that you’ve been created and gifted to be, there’s no better way to get there.