Angela Baughman's Blog, page 35

A Painful Calling To Step Away

I was sitting in a Contemporary Theology class in the spring of 2013 as the professor shared a story from a previous church she had served. I was having difficulty relating to her experience, though. She was telling us about a time when she had visited with members of her congregation. During their honest discussion, she had firmly invited them to leave the church for the health of the faith community. What? I did not understand this situation at all.

But I could not deny that listening to her story was stirring something deep inside me. The stirring was uncomfortable, and I resisted it at first. I felt like the Holy Spirit was starting something that I wasn’t at all interested in exploring. The scenario my teacher was describing was perplexing and confrontational, and I knew I wanted no personal connection to it. I was confident that asking anyone to leave the small, family-led church I pastored would be a mistake from which there would be no redemption. I couldn’t imagine doing it or hearing from God any encouragement to do it. So what was this nagging feeling?

Have you ever been outside on a cloudy day and experienced a break in those clouds just long enough for the near-blinding light of the sun to shine through? That’s what happened in my heart. I continued to see my teacher’s mouth moving, the students around me nodding their heads or taking notes, but I heard nothing except God’s truth flooding my spirit. It became instantly clear to me that it wasn’t someone else receiving an invitation to leave the church. It was me.

Immediately hot tears began to leak from my eyes. Tears of grief and disbelief that flood without warning and can’t be stopped. I tried to wipe them away at first and then realized I would need to excuse myself. I left the classroom and made my way to the bathroom down the hall and sank onto the cold floor, sobbing. That church had been my home for nearly nine years. It was my first pastoral appointment, I loved those people dearly, and we had done a lot of life together in nine years. Up until that moment, leaving them had never even crossed my mind.

I had a huge choice to make as I sat alone in those moments of swirling confusion mixed with undeniable clarity. The voice of God was as clear on my heart as I have ever heard it. Would I trust the familiar voice that was lovingly inviting me to follow Him on a different road? Or would I cling to what was familiar, safe, and comfortable?

A few months after that experience, I said my goodbyes to the people of that loving church. Seven years later, I miss them still. But I realize with certainty what I did not understand on the bathroom floor that spring day. I was focused then only on what I was losing without any way of knowing what I would gain. God had more to teach me, and part of that education was going to be immersing myself in unfamiliar territory.

Submission isn’t an easy word for most of us. We like to be in control of our destinies. But the work of God in our lives is about surrendering that control. Following His lead. Answering His call. There’s not much that’s scarier than stepping into the unknown with Him – except maybe traveling anywhere without Him.

Peace.

This post is chapter 2/5 of church words – SUBMISSION

What Her Skimpy Clothes Revealed

A newly-appointed pastor friend of mine had a dilemma. She had befriended a young woman in the rural community she was serving. Over time she extended an invitation for this new friend to join her congregation for a Sunday morning worship service. Much to my pastor friend’s surprise and delight, the other woman agreed to come.

News travels amazingly fast in small towns, and before the week finished and Sunday morning rolled around, a long-time member of the church she served approached my pastor friend. He came into her office, looking concerned. He had heard a rumor that the woman my friend invited was planning on joining them for church, and he was unhappy about the development.

“Have you seen the clothes she wears?” he asked my friend. “We can’t have that here.” Yes, her clothing choices revealed too much skin. But what the church member saw as scandalous, my friend saw as a symptom of brokenness. And my friend, who was formerly a broken woman with less than desirable behavior, knew that Jesus was the only One able to mend the shattered heart beneath the skimpy clothes.

My friend was troubled because the conversation pointed to a much larger problem than clothing choices. What stood before her was masked as friendly advice on giving more careful consideration about to whom the pastor extended a welcoming hand. But in reality, it revealed judgment about someone else’s worthiness and acceptability. At least with this one person in her congregation, there was an understanding of who was and who was not right enough with God to be among them.

In Romans 3, Paul writes that we are righteous when we have faith in Jesus Christ. The Greek word used for righteousness means a condition that is acceptable to God. Faith in Christ makes us acceptable. God’s grace brings us into right relationship with God. We don’t do it on our own, friend. We cannot follow enough rules about dress, church attendance, language, recreational activities, or acts of charity to make us acceptable to God. Only faith makes us righteous—only faith.

Why are we tempted to look at another’s choices and compare our righteousness with theirs? Is it maybe – just maybe – because we are desperately aware of our unworthiness? Instead of running to Jesus with thanksgiving and praise for His mercy, we calm our fears of insufficiency by pointing out that at least we are not as deficient in pleasing God as so-and-so? We’ve all done it. But let’s decide to recognize it, turn from it, and grow in our commitment to loving others as Christ loves them.

Over time, our choices or habits may need adjusting. God will deal with that as we mature in our devotion to Him. Give Him time to work it out in yourself and others. But remember this – and I’m speaking to myself as much as I am to you –  changes in our behavior may be about sanctification (growing more like Jesus), but they will not be about righteousness (being right with God). Righteousness can and will only ever come through faith alone.

Peace.

Praise Him In The Thrills And The Spills

Sometimes my life feels like an emotional roller coaster. The climb to the top is slow, the time at the peak is brief, and the descend to the bottom makes me scream and hold on for dear life. When the ride is over, I am shaken, breathless, and wobbly.

This past weekend was a perfect example of the unstable scenario. I climbed to the top (click-click-click) preparing original material to present as the hostess of a spring event. I sat for a moment at the top looking out over an at-capacity group that had registered to attend. Then I felt my stomach drop as the necessary shelter-in-place order pulled me down from that high place where the view was so gorgeous.

As I considered my options, I had low moments of grief, anger, and fear. I also had high moments of calm, optimism, and trust. I could feel in my spirit that the Lord wasn’t finished with the event yet. He encouraged me to lean into the work we had already done together, remember that the unfolding of social distancing guidelines didn’t take Him by surprise, and move forward in faith to offer the experience virtually.

Even during the weekend, I had roller coaster moments. After the first evening, I sat in a dark bathroom crying on the phone to a friend. I confessed wishing I hadn’t offered the event and taken the risk to share creative content that could potentially be rejected. I told her I didn’t want to do the next day. And with the next breath, I also admitted that I knew I was exactly where the Lord wanted me to be. Whoosh.

The following day, I began to see that what we were studying was opening hearts and minds. I watched people connect with Jesus and each other. We began to find life application in words of scripture through a fresh, new way of studying. It felt exciting and encouraging. Click. Click. Click.

When the weekend was over and I sat in my bedroom listening to worship music and offering the experience back to God, I felt Him speak to my heart with an important reminder. He called me to set my face towards His love and remember that He was pleased with me. For my work, obedience, and willingness to battle the demon of emotions that threaten to sweep me away, He was pleased. I had fought the good fight and already won, regardless of any outcome or response. Moments like that of connecting with God and feeling His pleasure – top of the highest peak.

Truth? I love roller coasters. I love it when someone walks by to verify that my lap bar is securely locked. It means it’s going to be a wild ride. I love the clicks of the slow climb. The moment at the top is spectacular. I love the twists, turns, and the wind in my face. I even love knowing that I’m not the one in control. I love it all – even the second-guessing my sanity as I wait for the train to take off.

We are told in the Bible to have an attitude of praise. In all things, we are to praise the Lord. In the work. In the unexpected rolls. In the steep drops that feel like they’ll never end. We can raise our arms in surrender and shout His praises. Because when the ride is over, we will be stronger for having been brave enough to board.

Peace.

This post is chapter 6/6 on Spiritual Habits (Praise)

Devour The Scriptures Like A Hungry Lion

Let me tell you what my sophomore in high school has not been doing during the shelter in place – honors chemistry. Sorry, Mr. Chemistry Teacher. Somehow that is not getting to the top of Alex’s to-do list. But I will tell you what he has been doing – basketball. Lots and lots of basketball.

Alex works out in the morning. He borrowed some adjustable-weight dumbbells from his grandfather and has rigged up a calf-raiser using leftover bricks from a landscape project. He does push-ups, planks, and is trying to figure out how to install a pull-up bar in his bedroom.

Alex practices in the afternoon. He has access to a vacant church gym and goes every day to run drills and work on his 3-point shot. He spends a couple of hours a day in the gym and has put up over 2,000 shots in the time school has been canceled.

Alex studies in the evening. He keeps an impressive spreadsheet from which he gathers his stats and considers how to make adjustments to improve. He reads books on developing better skills on and off the court.

Alex wants to get better at basketball before summer workouts (hopefully) start up again in a few weeks, and he meditates on basketball day and night. Assuming he continues on this path, he’s not going to be much better at chemistry when life returns to normal. But he will undoubtedly be better at basketball.

The opening Psalm tells us that blessed is the one who meditates on God’s law day and night. The word meditate is translated from the Hebrew word hagah. Hagah has a deeper meaning than merely thinking about or pondering something. It can also be translated as growl. Not an angry growl, but the kind of purr-growl that a lion makes when she is digging into the meal she has captured. As she devours the flesh, she makes a sound of satisfaction and celebration. She hagahs.

How intentional are we about digging into scripture? Do we seek it, hunt it, and devour it? Just as Alex isn’t going to see much improvement in his basketball game by watching NBA players score points, neither are we going to be blessed with a more profound knowledge of God by only absorbing what other people say. Bible teachers can help us grow, but we must fight the temptation to learn passively. A mature Christian knows Jesus personally by interacting with Him through the Word. The more we habitually meditate on who He is, the more of God’s promises we will realize in our lives.

I don’t approach my Bible study like a hungry lion every day, but when I do, it never fails to satisfy. I believe God desires to connect with every single one of us through His word. I need to be hungry. I need to continually recognize my craving for Spiritual truth held in the words of scripture. I need to hunt it down. And when I dig into it, I need to hagah. Because the truth is this – I can’t fully live without its nourishment.

Peace.

This post is chapter 5/6 on Spiritual Habits (Bible Study)

My Prayer Of Desperation

I am a pray-er. I pray alone and in groups; silently and out loud. I pray at the side of hospital beds with people who are frightened. I pray over the phone with people who are struggling. I believe in prayer, and I practice prayer.

Which is why, in the fall of 2016, I was surprised by a situation that revealed to me I still had much to learn about prayer. I was leading a team that accidentally birthed an outreach ministry for vulnerable children in a small, rural community. By accidentally, I mean, we had tried to start one thing, and the Lord saw fit to offer up something extraordinarily different.

That something different meant that each Wednesday night, three to four dozen children would appear. We would feed them, try to teach them, and attempt to lead them in worship. While we were doing these things, we would also break up fights, work to quiet foul language, and do our best to dodge the insults hurled at us when our offerings didn’t meet expectations.

The kids we worked with were challenging. They were in trouble at school, some had run-ins with the law, and more than one of them would have been considered homeless. Their lives were in a constant state of upheaval, and an outpouring of love was not a welcome, familiar experience them. It was the messiest ministry I had ever been a part of, and at first, all I wanted was to find the way out.

But God. God immediately and undeniably began to reveal Himself on Wednesday nights. Because I witnessed Him at work, it was abundantly clear that this program and these children were precisely what God had in mind. As the weeks passed, He wrecked my heart for these kids in the best way a heart can be wrecked. I began to see past their nasty insults and look deep into their eyes. There I found a longing to be loved, and it was like looking into my own reflection.

Here’s where the praying comes in. Every Wednesday night after the kids had been dropped off at home, van drivers returned to the church, and the rooms that had been filled with noise got quiet, the dozen or so adults who had survived the night would gather for prayer. Often, I would start us off, and in the most honest praying I have ever publicly done in my life, I would thank God for using me and plead with Him to equip me. I would confess my unwillingness to continue in one breath and ask Him to leave me there forever with the next. I was raw, broken, and desperate, and I knew nothing but Him would hold me together.

Then another voice would do the same. And another. Sometimes several of us would get on our knees or even get flat on the floor as we cried and lifted our sorrow over the brokenness we had witnessed in the previous hours. We would say out loud our temptation to admit defeat and not return. We would fervently request that He filled us anew with the power only He could provide so that we could press on.

Then, when everyone was spent from expression and free from the turmoil inside, we would begin to lift up the names of the children for whom we were especially burdened. Often my tears would flow as I would hear the names and remember their faces from moments before. These were my children now because they were His children, and somehow in His crazy way of using His followers, He had offered me an opportunity to care for them in His example.

When God called me away from that ministry, it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever let go. I confess I almost didn’t leave it even though I understood Him clearly to be instructing me to do so. The lessons I learned during that season of service has made me a better pastor, teacher, and Jesus follower. I am grateful for the time I was granted to be used there. And the memory of the powerful prayer time we experienced in our moments of desperation planted seeds of His faithfulness that bear fruit still today.

Peace.

This post is chapter 4/6 on Spiritual Habits (Prayer)

Giving Is About Them, But It’s About Me, Too

Over the past few weeks, I have used social media, interviews, and emails to get the word out about the No More Shame project. March 30 was the first Day of Giving to raise funds for our efforts in El Salvador, and I look forward to learning how much money came in to help make more washable feminine hygiene kits to hand out in schools there. I am passionate about this work, and it is a pleasure to lend my voice and do what I can to bring hope and empowerment into the lives of these precious girls.

But it’s not just about them. Full disclosure – it was first about me. Nearly four years ago now, I was standing in my kitchen, fighting tears as I learned about the high number of girls who drop out of school. Many drop out as a result of missing days each month because they are not able to take care of their menstrual flow. The days add up until they are no longer able to manage their studies successfully. As I felt the undeniable stirring of the Holy Spirit, I distinctly remember shaking my head and asking God for two things. First, please let this not be true. And second, please send someone else to speak to it.

It’s tough for me to admit uttering that second request knowing everything God has done since that evening in my kitchen. It took a while, but He did open my heart and open doors for me to be a part of this issue. God has done amazing things, both locally and globally, with this still-new outreach effort, and I celebrate the way He has provided opportunities and stirred hearts to join with me. But that’s only part of the story.

As I have wobbled out in attempts to advocate for these girls, God has strengthened me as I worked to strengthen them. I am an abuse survivor. Survivor. I was groomed into a romantic relationship with a teacher when I was in high school, and it changed the entire trajectory of my life. I tried for so long to get over it, but this work has taught me that a survivor doesn’t get over it. She survives it. She lives with it. She gets back up again after something has knocked her down. Some days she takes tentative steps and keeps her head low because that is her best that day. But she keeps moving forward one foot in front of the other, and in doing so, she communicates, “What you did to me is not what defines me.”

I do this work for young girls in part because every time a kit gets made with money we donated, together we say to that girl, “You matter. We see you. Don’t let this obstacle define you. Keep your head up. Walk tall and strong. Someday you won’t need our help. You can do this. We believe in you.” I want that to be what they hear because it was what I needed to hear and didn’t at seventeen years old. And it’s what I still need to hear today. Maybe your heart needs to hear it, too. Let’s keep saying it to each other.

I believe the best is yet to come in what we can accomplish together to draw a line in the sand and say, “no more.” No more will we sit by while girls let go of an opportunity to be educated simply because their bodies are behaving exactly the way their bodies are designed to behave. They deserve so much better than that. And so we will share our resources to offer them a future that is a little bit brighter. I’m proud to be a part of that. I’m proud you are a part of that. I thank you for your interest, prayers, love, and support for this project. And I thank you for every single dollar you’ve donated. We are using them all to send a message of hope and love.

Peace.

To learn more about the No More Shame project, visit www.livesteadyon.com/speaking.

This post is chapter 3/6 on Spiritual Habits (Giving)

The Hands That Washed My Stinky Feet

I was setting up for a youth retreat in the heat of summer. All day, I had been back and forth between buildings, moving tables and chairs, bringing in supplies, and preparing the rooms where the teenagers would spend their weekend.

Because I am a think-ahead kind of woman, I had strategically chosen a pair of way-past-their-prime canvas tennis shoes to wear while I worked. I had also wisely decided to go without socks because, well, socks made your feet all the hotter. My old shoes already stunk, so what did a little more smell matter if it kept my feet cooler? Yes, I was thinking ahead and making all the right choices.

Until I stood outside the room where the opening worship service for the staff was going to take place. I looked at the front where fresh towels had been carefully placed beside washtubs of warmed water, and I suddenly remembered. Part of the dedication service for the weekend was a foot washing. I looked down at my dirty, stinky shoes, and my heart sank. How on earth was I going to take these shoes off and allow anyone to see the truth inside them?

I thought about faking illness or hiding, but I was one of the leaders of the retreat. My absence would be noticed, and any hint of illness would bring concern. People were taking their seats for the service. It was time. This was happening. There was nowhere to run.

Throughout the service, I kept anxiously looking around the room, wondering what poor soul would have to touch my feet. When people began to move forward to participate, what followed seem to be inevitable. It would be Katherine (name changed to protect the innocent) who was given the task of washing my filth.

Katherine, to me, was perfect. She was young, lovely, and gracious. She was sweet, kind, and soft-spoken. She had really, really pretty hair, which reminded me anew of what a hot mess I surely was from head to toe. As we moved towards the basins, I tried to think of how to apologize ahead of time. But it wasn’t time for talking. Music was softly playing, and people were experiencing connection with Jesus through worship and prayer. So I did the only thing there was to do. I took off my stinky shoes.

I half expected her to refuse. I certainly anticipated a gasp and wrinkling of her nose to communicate her displeasure. But instead, she bowed her head, picked up my dirty foot in one hand, and began to use her other hand to pour water down upon it. As she washed one foot and then the other, I saw a picture of my Lord in humble service to His friends (John 13), and my eyes filled with tears.

It’s been over twenty years since I had that experience. I have forgotten a lot of things that have happened to me over the last two decades. But, if anything, the memory of that night has grown stronger and more solidified in my heart. Katherine offered an act of Christian service to me that evening that changed my understanding of service. My feet were cleaner, but even more significant, the mercy of Jesus Christ had flooded my soul through His servant.

Peace.

This post is chapter 2/6 of Spiritual Habits

The Music That Soothes My Soul

For the 40 days of Lent this year, my heart was moved to give up listening to music other than Christian. Now, I recognize for some people, this wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice. Maybe you already only listen to Christian music. Or perhaps music isn’t that much of a constant in your life. I get it. But for me, letting go of the nearly limitless music options I’ve accumulated is a big deal.

Because I love 80’s pop, classic country, and current hits. I love hair bands, boy bands, and girls who play rock & roll. I have extensive collections of Billy Joel, Celine Dion, Dolly Parton, and Loretta Lynn. I even listen to all genres of Christmas music whenever the mood strikes me, and it does not matter to me one bit if it happens to be the middle of summer. I have Pandora stations, Spotify stations, iHeart stations, and SiriusXM stations. I listen to music in my van, in my earbuds, through my computer, and from the radio in my kitchen. Music is my constant companion all day every day.

Maybe it’s because I moved around so much when I was younger that I have attached myself to music so. Music was able to go with me and stay with me. When everything in my world had been uprooted again, I could find a new radio station and hear the same tunes. I could set up my record player and play the same LPs. I could take my boom box with me and listen to the same cassette tapes. Music was distracting and comforting. It brought me peace.

A good friend of mine recently said what we fast should be something we use as “a comfort and a distraction.” When she said that, I immediately understood what she meant. That’s what music is for me. It distracts me from my thoughts that sometimes wear me out. It brings comfort in times when I long for something safe and familiar.

Today as the realization began to sink in of how the coming weeks of social restriction are going to impact my family and me, I craved familiar songs. I connected with the little girl inside me who stood in places of unusual surroundings, not knowing what to do or who to trust. I longed for the familiar sounds of my favorites like “Stuck On You” by Lionel Richie or “Someday Soon” by Suzy Bogguss to reassure me it will all be over soon.

But I gave that up for Lent. That comfort and distraction. And so instead, I found myself running to the only thing that will ever really comfort me. The One I’ve run to many, many times before. The arms I always eventually end up in, even if sometimes I try something else first. I sought and quickly found the voice of Jesus, who offers His peace in abundance. And He, in His infinite grace, did indeed remind me that He was still mine, and I was still His, and everything is going to be okay.

Man, I miss my music right now. But I’m so grateful that missing it points me to an even more effective comfort – the love of Jesus Christ.

Peace.

This post is chapter 1/6 of Spiritual Habits.

The Whisper That Echoes In My Heart

One of the most powerful moments I have ever experienced with God came a few weeks after a car accident that left me unable to care for myself. I was sitting at the end of the couch in our living room. Someone had propped me up so I could join the meeting of family members that was about to begin.

This meeting (one of many) was to organize coverage for the next week or so. Josh, our infant, was still staying at my parents’ house with my mother as his full-time caregiver. In addition to that need, someone had to be with me around the clock. Someone else had to be with Alex, our six-year-old, around the clock because the accident had broken both of his arms. And several people were also needed to help take care of meals, housework, getting us to doctor appointments, and other logistics.

It was a difficult thing for me to witness – these people in my living room with calendars open and pens ready for action. I felt unnecessary at the meeting because I felt I had nothing to offer. So once I was positioned on the couch, I requested my iPod. I listened to my music and tried my best to shut it all out. Then, after a couple of pop hits from the 1980s and a country love song or two, the first n0tes of the song “Born Again” by Third Day came through my earbuds. And immediately, the familiar presence of God was upon me.

For the next few minutes, I heard God whisper to me through the lyrics of that song. My heart felt Him quietly say, “Angie, through this experience, you can be born again. If you will turn your face towards Me, I will reveal Myself to you in a way you have never known before. You look around this room today, and you see ashes. Destruction. Remnants of a life you tried so desperately to hang onto. But I have a promise of redemption for you. If you will walk with Me in these coming days, you will find a more permanent something – a joy for which you have longed. It will fill your heart and never go away.”

I was aware at that moment – maybe more so than I have ever been in my life – that I had a choice to make. God was offering me a gift. Before me was the opportunity to exercise my faith in Jesus in a whole new way. Would I receive the gift? My life had been turned entirely upside down, but I still had a choice. I could sit in my disappointment, or I could make an intentional decision to increase my trust in Him. To grow and become stronger emotionally and spiritually.

It was an invitational whisper heard so loudly, I still remember exactly how I felt. I knew something significant was happening. It has been almost ten years since that experience, and I continue even now to take steps towards embracing internal healing and receiving His joy. I am stronger. And I am more confident than I have ever been that I am on the right path. I am grateful for His whisper, and what it has led me to pursue.

Peace.

I Hear God’s Voice When I Study His Word

I have been a Christian for 39 of my 44 years, and even before I asked Jesus into my heart, I was aware of His presence. I’ve done a lot of Jesus and church things in my life. I’ve had a lot of personal, intimate experiences with God. I’ve had some life-changing revelations and even some intense moments of breakthrough and healing.

But the single greatest reason I am fiercely connected to Jesus today isn’t corporate worship or roles of service. It isn’t the many books, podcasts, and sermons from Spiritual leaders that have guided me through the years. It isn’t even the music that prays for me when I am at a loss for words. The single greatest reason I am fiercely connected with Jesus today is because of the many hours I have spent studying and teaching the Bible.

Since 2002, I have studied the Bible inductively, and for the past five years, I have taught inductive Bible study. Studying the Word has been a light in my life that never dims. It has been the strength of my life that never tires. In the stories, people, and prophecy of the Bible, I have found belonging, acceptance, and adoption. I have found power, courage, and healing. And in His grace, God has connected His heart with my heart.

There’s an important reminder for us in the book of James that is helpful when we face the temptation to think we already know enough about what’s in the Bible. That’s a lie and a trap the enemy uses to keep us small and ignorant of power. But James writes, “prove yourself doers of the word [actively and continually obeying God’s precepts], and not merely listeners [who hear the word but fail to internalize its meaning], deluding yourselves [by unsound reasoning contrary to the truth]” James 1:22 AMP.

The most effective way to witness is to live out our faith by imitating God. But how can we imitate what we do not know? Let us be willing to put in the effort to get to know God and listen to Him speak to us through studying the Bible. It takes a bit of time. It takes intentionality on our part. But we can and will establish a deep, abiding connection with God if we take steps to learn who He is through His Word.

On March 17, I will begin teaching a new study on chapters 1-11 of Genesis. We will study creation, the fall, the flood, and the establishment of the nations. We will dig deep into the very beginning. In the preparations I have been doing, I have already learned so much. There’s something fresh for all of us in there. I invite you to join the study in person or online. But whether with me or someone else, I encourage you to find a group and get in the Bible for yourself. God will speak to you as you study. And it will change your life.

Peace.

This post is chapter 9/10 of The Ways God Speaks To Us

Details on the upcoming Genesis class is available at www.livesteadyon.com/classes