Lori Stanley Roeleveld's Blog, page 20

When Christians Play Spiritual Paintball

“Why is this so hard?” the woman asked me.

She’d been listening to me teach about God’s call on the life of the Christian writer and our responsibility to live that calling through faith.

“I’m sorry?” I asked for clarification.

“If God has truly called me to write for Him, why is it so hard?”

I paused because I totally get that question.

When we’re young in our faith (and sometimes beyond that), we believe the hardest thing we’ll ever do is discern God’s will or calling for our life’s work. We believe that discovering that truth will be like slipping the right key into an ancient door, behind which is stored every imaginable treasure.

Really (and those of us who are mature in the faith should teach this truth to others), really, it’s like the opening scene of Indiana Jones Raiders Of The Lost Ark. Indy carefully replaces the golden treasure he’s sought with a bag of sand and believes he’s in the clear when suddenly, every ancient booby trap known to man is unleashed and he’s on the run for his life.

THAT’S what it’s like to discern the will of God for one’s life and take a step in the direction of obedience. In many ways, those immediate trials, hardships, and barriers are part of the confirmation that you’re onto God’s plan.

Congratulations!

Following Jesus isn’t for the faint of heart, though many of us are. It’s okay to come to Him even if you fall prey to every imaginable fear (as I do – you know, dogs, the dark, heights, fast cars, new experiences, failing, opposition, conflict, yeast, other people.) If we’re not quaking in our boots a bit about following Jesus, then we’re not paying attention.

Jesus walked on water. He opposed self-righteous, religious leaders. He loved the unlovable. He created conflict, made enemies, was rejected, mocked, scorned, betrayed, contradicted, beaten, abandoned by His friends, publicly humiliated, and stoned. Walk a mile behind those dusty sandals.

But even if we’re wobbly kneed and faint of heart, He welcomes us to follow and provides what we need to stand.

Here’s the thing, whatever God’s specific call on our lives, we’re following Him into the great battle for souls. And it’s as real a battle as the one encountered by the Israelites.

God gave Israel the promised land. We all remember that, yes? It was His gift to them and it’s confirmed throughout Scripture that it was their destiny to possess the land – deeded freely to them by the One who created it.

So, there they stood on the border looking in and He directed them to fight for what He’s given them.

Was He with them in the fight? Yes. Did He provide them with numerous and lasting victories? Yes. But, it was a real fight. People were hurt. People died. People aged and wore out before attaining the entire promise and in 2019, Israel is still actively defending what God promised was theirs.

Too many modern Jesus-followers think that walking in faith is like playing paint ball. It resembles battle. It’s as engaging as battle. Sometimes it stings a bit. But nothing’s really at stake and no one ever really gets seriously injured.

That’s paint ball and laser tag. That’s not what we’re about. If that’s what following Jesus looks like to you, maybe you’re not doing it right.

When we grow enough in Christ to receive our specific assignment – raise a family in His name, pursue a career in His name, create art in His name, lead people in His name, teach the Bible in His name, care for the planet in His name, drive an Uber in His name – whatever that assignment is, when we take a step in the direction of obedience, it’s like we’ve toed the line in the DMZ.

Something stirs in the spiritual realm and enemy forces take notice.

It’s not something to fear. Truly. Because God is with us. When we draw near to Jesus, He defends us, protects us, and enables us to stand.

But, the stakes and the opposition are real. If we don’t expect it to occur, we can yield to confusion or discouragement. If we continually crave an easier path, we can become spiritually lazy and inattentive. If we whine and moan the whole way, it tarnishes our testimony. If we pretend it’s not real, we can become paralyzed in our place.

Alternately, if we are prepared for what’s coming, we can brace on the foundation of Jesus’ love and truth. If we understand the reality and the stakes, we can press into our God in faith and persevere. If we keep our eyes on Him, we’ll see Him in victorious glory and we’ll endure in ways we couldn’t have imagined on the day we took our first step.

Paint ball is fun, but it’s a diversion, a sport, an entertainment – it’s not what followers of Christ are called to when we choose to follow Jesus.

Yes, it’s hard. But, Jesus-followers do hard things. Jesus did the hardest thing of all and walked away from death with our eternal lives in the palms of His hands. We can join Him in the hard things we’re called to, too, because He is Emmanuel – God with us.

When Christians Play Spiritual Paintball https://t.co/IHUDLmklv6 #TheStruggleIsReal #Jesus #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) June 18, 2019

Ingrates!

“Ingrates!”

The young staffer plopped himself in the chair in my office and proceeded to bounce a tennis ball off the wall in frustration.

“Do you need to talk?”

He stopped the ball and leaned toward me, pointing his finger. “I spent hours helping those people. Literally hours. I put up with their arrogant attitudes. I listened their complaints. I’ve gone out of my way for them for weeks and they’re just so entitled! I’ve never encountered such ingratitude. I don’t know why I do this anymore. I especially don’t know why I would continue doing this with them!”

I thought about it for a moment and then asked, “Was there less money in your paycheck this week than you earned?”

“What? No. Why?”

“Well, you said you don’t know why you do this anymore, so I assumed something had happened to your pay. I mean, that’s my reward for doing this job. I earn a weekly paycheck that puts food on my family’s table. Isn’t that why you’re working?”

He scrunched up his face. “Sure, of course. But, some people are really grateful and treat me with respect.”

“That’s wonderful when it happens, but you receive the same weekly reward based on the work you do, not based on their treatment of you, don’t you?”

“Don’t you agree those people should have been grateful to me and kind?”

“Of course, but not everyone is. We’ve hired you to serve everyone, even the customers who aren’t grateful.” I smiled. “We would intervene if anyone was abusive to you, of course, and I agree it can be extra rewarding when customers respond positively to us. But, we serve all kinds of people here.”

As he left my office, I felt as if God tapped me on the shoulder. It occurred to me that often, I plop down in my prayer time and start bouncing tennis ball prayers off God’s wall, grumbling about the ingratitude of people He’s called me to love.

God’s so serious about the call for us to reflect His loving nature, He’s commanded us to even love our enemies. “But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.” Luke 6:35-36. ESV

I heard the great preacher, Warren Wiersbe once say that love isn’t a feeling we conjure up, it’s treating others the way God treats us. If God is merciful to us, we should show mercy. If God is generous with us, we should be generous with others. If God holds out hope for us, we should hold out hope for others.

And we do it, not expecting them to reward us in kind, because we live in evil times. Some will take us for granted. Some won’t even notice what we’ve given. Others will misunderstand us and still others will repay good with evil.

Paul warned Timothy of these times saying, “But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power. Avoid such people.” 2 Timothy 3:1-5 ESV.

So, why do we continue to love or to exhibit kindness or to hold out hope? Because we represent Jesus Christ, the everlasting King. When we say we’ve given up hope for an individual or a culture or a people group, we’re not saying as much about them as we’re saying that God cannot overcome the evil in their hearts. It’s a poor testimony to give up hope and we live a greater testimony than that.

Plus, we aren’t serving and loving others expecting reward from them, because what can other fallen humans offer us compared to the reward of spending eternity in relationship with the perfect, awe-inspiring, holy, creator God who we call Father, by the grace and mercy of Jesus? If this reward is ours, do we need more? When we’ve been handed the keys to an eternal kingdom, do we ask others for tip?

I’ve stopped bouncing tennis ball prayers against God’s wall. When others mistreat me, I hit my knees and ask Him to increase my faith, my love, my tolerance for mistreatment and ingratitude so I can better represent Him even through trial.

Of course, I pray for protection, but HIS protection, which is flawless. And, for deliverance from the temptation to respond in kind or to give up hope. For this is the example I see in those believers who came before me and the example I pray I leave for those coming up behind.

Are there ingrates in your world? Take heart, loved one. Greater is He that is in us than he that is in the world. Cultivate a heart that is always grateful for that and trusts that our reward – Jesus – is portion enough.

Ingrates! https://t.co/dCPGG7gb76 responding to ungrateful people you love #amwriting #faith #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) June 12, 2019

When Following Jesus Takes an Ugly Turn

There are days when we all wonder if other Christians have even met the same Jesus we know.

While we know there are a variety of Bible translations, it can feel as though some Christians received a Bible full of Jesus smiles, children laughing, and Kum Ba Yah, while others cherish one full of thorns, spears, fire, and stones.

And we’re Facebook friends with people reading both versions. (sigh)

It’s tempting to concede we can’t really know the truth. It’s tempting to quietly unfriend those with extreme opinions. It’s tempting to retreat into silence and develop a monastic movement for every denomination. It’s tempting to simply take cover and wait things out until Jesus returns.

Others have been tempted as we are, there’s nothing new under the sun (not even Facebook). James lived in times when following Jesus took an ugly turn and this is his response to facing that temptation. James 1:12-17 ESV. 

We could hide and Jesus would continue to love us and welcome us into eternal life. There is nothing we do that earns us His love or eternity. He has accomplished all of that on the cross. But He demonstrated through His resurrection that He alone is God, so we have nothing to fear. Our lives bear witness to His power when we resist the temptation to run and hide.

God’s love creating courage from cowardice speaks a better gospel than most tracts we might leave in someone’s door hoping to avoid a direct conversation.

We live in contentious times. When a pastor praying becomes a debate in the pews. When a Catholic priest stating biblical truth makes national headlines. When political and social agendas are not contained to adult conversations, but show up at pre-school story hour, it is no time to think there are easier times ahead.

I love disaster movies. They’ve taught me something about facing down inevitable confrontation with a greater force. Those who try to run and hide are generally overtaken shortly after the opening credits. The survivors are always those who faced what was coming head on and rode with courage into the wave. I know they’re just movies, but isn’t it fascinating that admiring courage is hard-wired into our DNA and appears as a thread in all our stories?

In some ways, the answer is simpler than we’re making it. Jesus-followers need to listen and learn to ask thoughtful questions of others before speaking. We need to study the truth and learn to state it simply and unapologetically.

And, we need to open ourselves to Jesus, allowing Him to remove all spiritual impediments to loving others and embracing the truth ourselves so we are free from pride and self-deceit.

During a karate class years ago, I had a vision of what following Jesus beside other believers could be like. At the start of every class night at the dojo, every student from white belt to fifth degree black belt, would line up on the classroom floor and engage in the same basic moves. Punch. Kick. Block. Stand. Repeat.

Our sensei would walk the lines correcting everyone. Everyone. And each time he adjusted a fist or aligned a forearm or modified a leg-line, the student would reply, “Thank you, Sensei.”

No one ever stared him down and questioned his authority to make corrections. No one ever insisted their way of doing it was perfectly fine. No one ever defied him once his back was turned and resorted to their former way.

He was our role model. We respected that he’d worked on these moves just as we had. We saw from his life he could practice what he preached. And we all understood we were engaged in an art where we could expect to spend our entire lives improving.

Does Jesus deserve any less from His people?

You see, we don’t hide out of humility, but out of pride. We don’t remain silent out of love and tolerance, but out of fear.

Courage and confidence will appear the moment we put our eyes on Him, receive His refinement, and focus on the task at hand. In humility, when we speak it will not be out of judgement. In love, when we answer, it will not be to best someone else, but to light a candle in the dark. In truth, when our lives demonstrate the words we speak, we will earn the right to be heard by some (though others will always remain unhearing.)

When following Jesus takes an ugly turn, we can turn tail and hide, but that’s choosing to live in a lesser story than the one to which we’ve been called.

These are days of a great story that calls for courage born out of love and truth, spoken with tones of humility and grace. Let’s not miss the opportunity in the mess. Let’s turn and face what’s coming – side-by-side – our eyes on Him who led the way.

 

When Following Jesus Takes an Ugly Turn https://t.co/QjuxtIX7Xh #prayingforthepresident #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) June 4, 2019

A Line of Duty Death

Died in the line of duty.

This is what we commemorated on Memorial Day. Those who died serving our country. None of them wanted the death that stalked them, overcoming them far too soon, but that was their story.

I began the day at the National Fallen Firefighter’s Memorial in Emmitsburg, Maryland. This park with its pavers, statue, and eternal flame honors those firefighters who also lost their lives in the line of duty.

My father has a paver there to denote his support of the memorial. His name isn’t

on the plaques of those who fell fighting fire or risking their lives to save others.  He fought fires, he risked his life, and he put his own safety aside to rescue others, but each time, by God’s mercy, he survived.

It made me think, not about dying in the line of duty, but of all those who live in the line of duty – every day, for decades. And not just soldiers and first responders – but Christians.

Martydom is nothing to seek out, but it comes to some. Jim Elliot’s death at the hands of men from the Huaorani people of Ecuador shaped my understanding of Christian faith. He died in the line of Christian duty and we rightly honor that.

However, my spiritual formation was more deeply impacted by the response of his widow, Elizabeth Elliot, who picked up the baton from her husband and served those responsible for his death. Her writing and her long life of faithful, passionate, daily service to God, despite deaths, disappointments, and detours, provided me an education in a type of living martyrdom. Elizabeth lived into old age – every day in the line of duty.

My father fully expected to die fighting fires or rescuing someone from troubled waters. When he neared retirement age, it was as much as surprise to him as to anyone. By then, he couldn’t imagine living a day that wasn’t in service to others. Fortunately, his department agreed, and he continued as chief until his retirement at age 79. Over fifty-one years living in the line of duty.

Dad also served one stint in the Marines, stationed in Okinawa at the end of the Korean war. Many soldiers died in the line of duty in that war, but Dad came home and moved on to a civilian life.

Some of his fellow servicemen and women, however, continued for a lifetime in the Marines. Their names aren’t etched in stone or marble on any national monuments, but their lives are no less remarkable because every day for decades they laid their lives down for others – living entire lifetimes in the line of duty.

There are Christians who see our early days of faith much as my father saw his life as a Marine. We recall the excitement and passion of those first years. How we treasured every word of their Bibles! How we enjoyed deep fellowship with other believers! How eagerly we shared our faith with those around us and sought to represent Jesus with every moment of our days! Some even served a time in foreign lands in the name of Jesus.

Sadly, over time, many of us then settled into a type of domesticated, civilian practice of our faith. Our passion cooled. Our radical commitment to live the life we saw in Acts succumbed to the relentless inertia of religion.

Our attentions diverted to soccer games, paying bills, committee meetings, and church buildings. As if we’d been discharged from our single stint in the faith. Yes, like the Marines, we know once a believer, always a believer, (we even have the bumper sticker), but somehow, we retired from active Christian duty.

It is a precious few who re-enlist daily with Jesus. Yes, we’re willing to lay down their lives, if God ever calls us to that, but beyond martyrdom, we’re also willing to lay down our selfish ambitions, our personal agendas, our comfortable safety, and our smaller stories to serve Him and others for endless days in the greatest story ever told.

We choose to sit by the door of the church because our faith is wild, our passion more pronounced now than when we first met our Lord, and our wonder swelling to such heights we fear it will not be contained within the sanctuary walls. We’re wrestlers. Weepers. Wailers for the lost and the numbed.

We cry out to all who will listen. We call on the name of the Lord loudly enough to discomfort our well-behaved religious neighbor. We long for comfort and security and we battle with our own fears, but then we put our fears in order with fear of the Lord reigning over all the lesser trepidations.

So we appear to courageous, and yet it is not courage that drives us but a boundless, expansive love that we receive from Christ and that passes through us like a deluge of living water, like an explosion of ancient light, like an eruption of life resurrected from a fetid, stinking tomb.

Living in the line of duty. Perhaps, to die, but certainly to die to self. This is the call of Christ and blessed are those who hear and answer yes with their words but also with their days. “For all the promises of God find their Yes in him. That is why it is through him that we utter Amen to God for his glory.” 2 Corinthians 1:20 ESV Even yes, to living until glory in the line of duty.

The only eternal flame that truly matters is the one burning within our hearts. Is it time yours was re-ignited?

A Line of Duty Death – what about a line of duty life? https://t.co/wLw2Mc7hye honoring those who live in the line of duty #Jesus #amwriting #spiritualwarfare

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) May 29, 2019

Maybe You Can’t Handle the Truth

“I’ve read the story you sent me. It’s not good. Try another form of writing.” A literary agent sent that comment in response to my first attempt at fiction.

“You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, Lori. Until you do, you shouldn’t try to get someone to publish you.” Words from one of the first editors I pitched

“No. No. That was not good writing. I’m disappointed. I expected more from you.” A writing workshop leader reacting as I read my attempt at his assignment.

I have framed and hung these words on the walls of a special room in my mind where I keep those things for which I am particularly grateful. It’s true. I recall each of these comments with a heart full of thanks for the speakers.

That isn’t how I felt the first time I heard the words. My initial reaction to each was disappointment, embarrassment, and indignation. It would have been easy to build a special room in my mind just for these words and others like them. A small, dark room in which to keep vials of bitterness and black velvet paintings of heartache and dashed hopes. A cedar-lined alcove bereft of sunlight where the only music is “Say Something – I’m Giving Up On You” on a constant loop.

Yes, it was tempting to enshrine these words in my soul’s mausoleum, mentally eulogizing my attempts to write.

Instead, sitting alone letting the sentences run like news ticker beneath my regularly scheduled program, I invited Jesus to review them with me. I kn0w each time I hear words I don’t want to hear, I have a choice to make. Jesus whispered in my ear the same words He asked the crowds in Matthew 11 when his cousin John languished in prison for calling out the king on his affair with his brother’s wife: “What did you go out into the wilderness to see?”

John the Baptist told the truth. His truth telling landed him in prison and eventually, got him beheaded. So Jesus asks the crowd who had flocked to listen to John, “What did you go out into the wilderness to see?”

The essence of Jesus’ challenge to the crowd is this – what did you expect to hear from a prophet, someone chosen to deliver truth from God? Were you seeking someone who would sway his message to the prevailing wind? Or were you hoping to receive fine eloquence to seduce and entertain your ear? If, instead, you went out to hear a prophet, why then, do you reject the truth he tells or complain when it challenges your comfort?

When faced with hard words about my writing, Jesus asked me, “What did you go out into the wilderness to see?” Was I willing to live with the discomfort of frustrating truth and let it spur me on to greater excellence or would I set about to erect the dark room where self-pity could flourish like fungus beneath mounds of rotting leaves?

Making the correct choice has made all the difference in my life.

That literary agent is now my dearest mentor, friend, and before retiring, educated me on all things important in God’s economy. That publisher respects my work and encourages me to submit proposals. That workshop leader is a treasured guide and friend. They told me the truth and by accepting it (instead of locking them away out of sight screaming “Off with their heads!”), my writing improved and so did my character.

How do you respond to the truth you entered the wilderness to seek?

When you read God’s word, listen to sermons, receive loving correction from a counselor or friend – do you lean toward banishment? Do you decapitate the truth to facilitate your self-delusions and maintain your comfort? Or do you kiss truth on the lips so you can awaken from your cursed sleep to pursue a deeper relationship with the One who created you?

People who tell us the truth deliver gifts God will use to spur us on to greater adventures if we will receive them with grace. To reject the truth is to lock His work in our lives away in a cell.

John was freer in prison than the king was on his throne. I was more blessed by hard truth than I would have been by false praise.

What did you go out into the wilderness to see, loved ones? And what will you do when that wild and wooly truth disturbs your comfort in the universe? The right choice will make all the difference.

Maybe You Can't Handle the Truth https://t.co/9cFl9h4sSm #BRMCWC #truth #Jesus #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) May 21, 2019

When Evil has a Lovely Mother

What if you met the mother of evil and thought she was a lovely woman? Would you then invite evil over for cookies?

In Men in Black, Will Smith engages in training to battle alien invaders. During a simulation, he and the other trainees encounter a scene that involves a little girl walking in a dark city at night surrounded by evil looking creatures. Smith is the only trainee to pass the test because he chooses to shoot the little girl.

Smith correctly interprets the situation when he discerns that most of the obvious aliens are simply going about their business. What’s suspicious is a schoolchild alone on a city street at night carrying books on quantum physics. Disguised by sweet innocence, she is the only character with truly evil intent.

I think studying that scene should be mandatory for Christians.

If every evil showed up declaring itself a public menace, displaying a threatening and repulsive demeanor, affirming its allegiance to Satan, well, life would be simple then, wouldn’t it?

And we know life is not simple.

Unfortunately, most of us react like the other agents in the scene, spraying gunfire at every scary thing that moves, creating a lot of noise and excitement, while missing the real danger purring like a kitten at our feet.

We forget that evil is just as likely to live in a modest cottage on a wooded lane and invite us in for coffee in a kitchen that smells like cinnamon scones. Evil will introduce us to its well-educated, soft-spoken mother who delights us with her wisdom and the puppy she rescued from an abusive owner. In cultured tones with soothing music in the background, evil will likely persuade us that what we formerly understood to be wrong, isn’t wrong at all, of course.

In fact, evil will shame us for even once thinking that we knew anything for certain. How could we? Who do we think we are? Soon, we start seeing life through the lens of evil without even moving from our comfy chairs.

I remember watching a documentary about four U.S. doctors who perform late-term abortions. The film takes us face-to-face with two men and two woman. We’re in their living rooms, their kitchens, and their exam rooms. We’re treated to close-ups of their compassionate counsel, the comforting hugs they give their patients, and their fears about being killed by religious zealots. We meet their lovely moms.

And throughout, we have a front row seat to layer upon layer of justification for injecting an unborn child with a deadly drug that stops his or her heart so that the mother delivers a stillborn baby.

Quietly, so quietly, they present their arguments as they dab at tears and we see their shoulders practically bent from the burden of responsibility they’ve assumed of deciding who will die and who will survive the womb. They seem almost noble and the filmmaker clearly is trying to portray them as heroic so that  it almost sneaks up on you when one doctor states something to the effect that there’s no denying what she’s doing.

She can’t call it a fetus. She’s choosing to end the life of a baby and to call it anything else would be disingenuous. For this admission, she actually seeks points for honesty.

ISIS is honest. Let’s give them points for that. “We’re coming to kill you,” they say. “We believe our way is the only way so you can join us or die.” You’d think that would be off-putting and ISIS would have no chance of recruiting volunteers. You’d be wrong.

One news story reported on the propaganda ISIS produces. Slick enough to recruit the disenfranchised from educated, well-off nations. There are glossy magazines. Twitter accounts. YouTube videos showing the softer, human side of ISIS soldiers as they give ice cream to schoolchildren, share pizza with comrades, and provide personal glimpses of the men behind the masks. There are even warrior heroes among them, like NBA stars, admired for prowess in their one-sided battles. Major league terrorists meriting their own following of brutal bully wannabes.

And I thought. All of those men have mothers. If we met their moms, would these men seem less murderous?

And then I thought, we will need to walk through the end times on our knees.

We received this warning in 2 Thessalonians 2:9-12 “The coming of the lawless one is by the activity of Satan with all power and false signs and wonders, and with all wicked deception for those who are perishing, because they refused to love the truth and so be saved. Therefore God sends them a strong delusion, so that they may believe what is false, in order that all may be condemned who did not believe the truth but had pleasure in unrighteousness.”

Beware the strong delusion, loved ones.

For a strong delusion to be effective, it cannot be immediately repulsive or frightening. It must be alluring, engaging, believable, beautiful, even. It won’t look like a masked gunman. It will look like his mother, a kindly old doctor, or a little pig-tailed girl.

It won’t coming brandishing weapons; it will offer us tea, a listening ear, and a compassionate face. It will tell us stories that draw us in, but it will lace those stories with the arsenic of deception on the chance that we can be lulled into the stupor with all the rest.

That’s why I get peeved at all the scattershot chatter on social media and broadcast news shouting about obvious evil. It’s like the agents in Men in Black who are so busy aiming at hairy monsters they miss the real source of danger.

It takes mental, emotional, and spiritual energy to remain alert in the face of widespread deception. It demands effort. It requires a constant intake of truth from God’s word and from sound, Biblical teachers. It’s hard work and we must pay close attention.

A lazy faith won’t survive these times. Worse, apathetic, lazy believers are a poor line of defense against the spread of delusion.

This is no simulation, people. This is it. This is what we’ve been warned about. This is why we’ve trained. This is no time to fall prey to magical illusions and sleight-of-hand ethics. These are the days of full-on alert faith.

Are your eyes open or are you sipping tea with the mother of all evil?

**I believe Jesus loves and died for terrorists, abortion doctors, and others who choose to believe the lies of the evil one. Our enemy is the evil one. People become seduced by his lies and become his pawns but they should not be treated as if they are evil. We should love them, pray for them, and speak truth to them. Christians should not assassinate abortion doctors or become vigilantes against terrorism, but we must be on guard against succumbing to their propaganda.

When Evil has a Lovely Mother – navigating deception in our times https://t.co/GoAJWVj5Fa #ProLife #faith #deception #AbortionRights

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) May 15, 2019

When We Disagree

A zealot, a tax collector, a Pharisee, and a fisherman all sit at a table to share a meal.

There’s little on which they agree. Their approaches to life’s big questions are as different as their professions and politics. During the meal, the volume rises. Heads shake. Eyes roll. Faces flush. But, when the meal concludes, everyone rises together to follow Jesus.

Jesus demonstrated from the inception of His church that we don’t have to hold hands and sing Kum-bah-yah to follow Him.

As we process the tragic death of Rachel Held Evans (who leaves behind a loving husband and two young children), we have an opportunity to consider the struggle we have to converse and to share air-space with people who disagree with our perspective on the church, our theology, or our application of Scripture.

I place a high value on truth. I believe the Bible to be the authoritative Word of God and I believe theology matters. There is correct theology and there is heresy. I believe Jesus places a high value on truth. He testified that He is “the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6

AND it is biblical truth that we are to love one another, bear with one another, be patient, forgive seventy times seven times, “and the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth, and they may come to their senses and escape from the snare of the devil, after being captured by him to do his will.” 2 Timothy 2:24-26 ESV

This passage is hard to execute, but Jesus-followers do hard things.

I’m still learning how to do this, but I’ve found that most of my mistakes in dealing with those who disagree with me find their origin in pride and fear.

First, I want to be right. I don’t like to be wrong. I take my Bible study seriously – not out of fear of punishment or disapproval from God, but because I believe that living according to God’s Word is the way we were designed to operate.

I don’t want it wrong in my life and surely don’t want to pass error on to others.

Here’s where God has a brilliant answer – humility. As much as I’ve studied, prayed, researched, and sat under sound teachers on debatable issues, I could be wrong. Now, if I thought I was wrong, I would believe something else, so I don’t apologize for my understanding of Scripture because it’s based on thoughtful study.

But, I don’t believe people who have other understandings of God’s Word are fools. We live in times of rampant deception. Any of us can fall prey. And our own internal struggles with sin, with our place in the world, with faith, or with our own wounds can contribute to forays into heresy. If this were me, I would want others to invest time in hearing me, caring about me, and gently correcting. If I wasn’t interested in hearing their opinions, I would want them to pray for me and leave the door open for us to resume conversation if I was ever ready to listen.

Or, we may realize we don’t truly understand why we believe what we believe. This is not fun, but it’s also a powerful opportunity both for nurturing humility in our own characters and of fortifying our understanding of God’s Word. We can then thank our opposer for highlighting an area where we need to grow and then set about to better understand our own theology.

Second, fear rises within me when others challenge my understanding of faith.

This fear is a human response, the fight or flight instinct, whenever we face opposition. Learning to recognize this fear, understand its origin, repent and turn from it, and work through it, is one vital task of every persecuted, oppressed, or opposed believer.

Other people’s opinions don’t make us taller or shorter. We are free to retain our understanding of Jesus and of biblical teaching, even if we stand alone in that understanding.

There is real danger in false teaching, and our concern is merited, but operating or talking from a base of fear only leads to foolishness and missteps. (Read Psalm 37)

Relinquish fear. Every time. When we encounter a differing teaching or opinion and feel fear rise (or its cousins panic, anxiety, irritation, rage, judgment), we should immediately pray.

Ask God to reveal the source of our fear so we can be aware and repent. Ask Him to remind us that He is with us and He loves the person with a different understanding of His Word. Ask Him to make our love for Him and for them greater than our fear.

Then, calmly, lovingly, confidently, courageously, simply speak truth – without condemnation. Ask questions. Lots of questions. Express love. Validate inconsistencies in church teaching and living but point the other person always to Jesus who lived the truth perfectly in love.

We have no business speculating on other people’s stories with God. In the wake of Rachel’s death, there are misguided individuals theorizing why her earthly story ended so quickly. We should remember Jesus’ words when Peter asked Jesus about John’s story – “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? You follow me!” John 21:22 ESV

It’s not our job to sum up another person’s story. It’s our job to follow Jesus and to speak the truth in love, to relinquish fear, and to obey God’s Word in 2 Timothy 2:24-26.

At the end of the day, the world doesn’t need a church free of conflict, it needs a world unafraid of conflict and willing to work through conflict demonstrating love.

God warns us that there would be times where many people’s love would grow cold. Don’t be one of those people. Love is in line with biblical truth and it casts out fear.

When We Disagree – thoughts in the wake of Rachel Held Evans tragic passing. https://t.co/5Go1xp6pVT #speakingtruthinlove #RachelHeldEvans

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) May 8, 2019

Where’s My Cool Iron Suit – Following Jesus when You Feel Vulnerable

Ahh, the life of a Christian writer.

In the wake of my father’s death four short weeks ago, I’ve been blind-sided by unprecedented family upheaval on top of the fresh grief. All this in the midst of speaking and promotion for my new book, The Art of Hard Conversations. It’s left me feeling exposed and vulnerable and been a challenge to my dearly held belief that we should rely on God to be our protector, not depend on our own sorry defenses.

Twice, people in anger and unkindness have said to me, “I thought you were supposed to love hard conversations.” Ouch. and Ouch, again. And a dear church friend, trying to comfort me as I was weeping and shaking said, “Wait, you must have written about facing times like this in your books. Can’t you read one of them yourself?” That actually made me laugh.

And, I took his advice. With all the hoopla this weekend about the release of the new Avengers movie (which I cannot wait to see), I turned to a chapter in my first book, Running from a Crazy Man (and other adventures traveling with Jesus), inspired by Iron Man. And what do you know? God knew it was exactly what I needed to hear.

This painful, agonizing, broken vulnerability I’m experiencing is precisely the material God will use – eventually – for good and for His glory. He will provide me the strength to resist defenses of my own design and one day, it will simply be the memory of a spiritual battle I survived by His grace and on His powerful loving back – not through my own resources.

So, allow me to share – in honor of the Avengers and my own time revisiting vulnerability –  this chapter from Running from a Crazy Man:

Where’s My Cool Iron Suit? Following Jesus When You Feel Vulnerable

We can learn a lot about God at the movies. For example, I learned that I want to be invulnerable. Like Iron Man.

Have you seen the first movie in the series? While I enjoyed the comic-book-hero story and appreciated Robert Downey Jr., what I really liked was the iron suit (which is actually a gold-titanium alloy).

In Iron Man, Tony Stark, genius and adult orphan owner of Stark Industries, is captured by terrorists and locked in a lab inside a cave. He’s supposed to assemble a weapon of mass destruction for the enemy, but instead, despite the primitive conditions, he invents an iron suit that makes him invulnerable to any attack.

I want that suit. If it existed, I’d invest in several.

First, I’d get one for each of my kids. The suit would make them easy to spot in a crowd, keep them safe in the event of fire or car crash, and protect them from bad guys and evil insurgents (should that ever become a problem in our small Rhode Island town).

I’d also have my husband fitted for one. It’s a jungle out there, and every man trying to support a family and live for Christ has to be a superhero these days. So cool if he could fight crime too! I’ll bet that’s excellent stress relief.

“What happened on the way home from work, dear?”

“Oh, not much. Wait! I did foil Lex Luther’s plot to take a daycare center hostage, but other than that, same old-same old.”

Next, I’d make each of my parents wear one, especially when my dad is fighting fires and when my mother is praying (both front line duties).

Of course, I’d want one too. Because people are mean. The world is dangerous. And vulnerability as a lifestyle leaves much to be desired.

As I watched the movie, it occurred to me that God could have provided Christians with cool iron suits. When you think about it, God’s a better inventor than Tony Stark, for sure (especially since Stark is fictional and God’s not). So He could have done it, and I imagine it would have all kinds of advantages.

First, obviously, Christians would be remarkably easy to identify because we would be the ones in amazingly cool, shiny flying suits that shoot fire at will. Wouldn’t that be a nifty effect for punctuating evangelistic conversations?

Second, people probably would be a lot nicer to us because we would be so much bigger, glossier, and able to crush them with our fists—I mean, protect them, protect them with our fists.

Third, people would certainly listen to us more if we had just saved them from extreme danger, flown in from the sky like rocket men, or fought off gangs with the flick of our wrists. Right? Certainly, you can see the upside of this idea too. Invulnerability would have been my choice if I were God.

But nooooo. Does He give us the excellent, cool, invulnerable iron man suits? No.

The Creator of all things with an infinite imagination decides that we should be—vulnerable.

In a gritty, dark, dangerous world full of mean, insensitive, messy people, He thinks we should be as vulnerable as, well, as babes in a manger. He’s so serious about this that if we have managed to develop some protection—like, say, hardening our hearts to the texture of stone—well, He trades our hearts of stone for hearts of flesh.

He seems obsessed with this whole vulnerable-human concept. Rather than facing a hardened, dangerous, evil world with protective armor, God’s church stands equipped with fleshy, bleeding, weeping, open hearts. What’s up with that?

To really drive home His point, God does the unimaginable. He puts Himself inside one of these vulnerable human suits and lives right beside us—open, weeping, bleeding, and real.

Hard to argue with a God who’s that committed to a concept.

Apparently, despite the marketing to the contrary, we don’t need no stinkin’ heroes. So maybe we should stop trying to be heroes. Obviously, the whole iron suit thing is only a good idea for the big screen.

What we need, according to Jesus, is other humans—faltering, unguarded, broken, flesh-and-blood, vulnerable humans, and the God who died to save them. It’s not an idea some eccentric fictional scientist dreamed up in a lab. It was conceived in the open heart of a God who knows that true strength originates in love.

Ponder the Perplexities:

Superheroes, films, comic books, and television shows reveal much about our longings as humans. We want to be strong and invulnerable— for good reason. But God sees things from a different perspective, one that often frustrates His followers.

Imagine sitting in an ancient castle listening to armies descend and reading Proverbs 16:32: Whoever is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city. That might not be how you saw it at the moment, but the proverb tells eternal truth while flying arrows only carry the word of the day on their stone tips. Their flames will be extinguished and forgotten tomorrow. Other flames will burn forever.

Best for us to cultivate a godly perspective now. If God shakes His head to the iron suit but gives a nod to a vulnerable heart, we trust Him, not our own understanding.

Remember: To drive His point home, God does something unimaginable. He puts Himself inside one of these vulnerable human suits and lives right beside us—open, weeping, bleeding, and real. Hard to argue with a God who’s that committed to a concept.

Thank you all for your prayers for my family as we adjust to our “new normal.” I love meeting as  many of my readers as I can, so be sure to check the schedule on my website for a time when I’ll be near you. Or, message me and I’m happy to arrange a visit!

Where's My Cool Iron Suit? https://t.co/bRA5M359UB #IronMan #AvengersEndgame #jesus #FaithOverFear

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 28, 2019

The Half-Life of a Believer Lingering in the Tomb

Death is a cold thud onto unforgiving earth. It’s the keening wail of a bereft soul.

Death is an empty stare. An icy rain. A debt come due in a dry season. An unwelcome knock at the door.

A thief in the night. A dagger at your rib. A hand around your throat.

A betrayal. A sucker punch. An endless fall.

And Jesus stared into the gaping maw, which was death, and stepped into it willingly for us.

Knowing many would ignore His sacrifice – scorn it, reject it, disbelieve it, or take it for granted. He took the bullet, stepped into the line of fire, fell on our grenade, body-blocked our assassination,

walked into the burning tower as the weight of our collective sins collapsed onto His shoulders and we ran whole and free.

He trusted His Father’s plan in a way none of us will ever have to know, with a faith we won’t have to conjure because He will infuse His into our anemic hearts. He stepped into the jaws of our enemy and walked away with our redemption.

And now, do we tarry in our tombs?Languishing in the fumes of our resurrection rather than face the light, fall on our faces before the Giver of Life?

Do we clutch our grave cloths to us, seeking comfort in the familiarity of the lingering stench of our former selves rather than embrace the responsibility that comes when we take on the robes of righteousness He provides?

Do we choose to pay rent for a crypt from which we’ve been released to avoid stepping into the freedom He gave Himself up to provide?

Let us not hover in the half-life of freedom bestowed, but not enjoyed. Emerge from the tomb where no living should reside. Step into the mystery of the kingdom come – of life eternal touching the common now. Speak freely of the death we once knew but shed like snakeskin and left on the floor of His tomb when we knelt at the foot of His cross.

Let our lives announce His conquest. May those who encounter us recognize the clear choice between the black-and-white chains of death and the rainbow prism of eternal life.

We were once enslaved to death, but life has been imparted to us and we will let it show on our faces, in our deeds, and in the stories we live and tell.

Easter isn’t a day for pastel ties and chocolate crosses,

Easter is a declaration of independence from the enemy that  stalked us from our first dusty breath and still rages to suck the marrow from our souls, our lives, our testimonies, but he cannot – will not – does not own us nor does he have the last word on our days.

It is a day to celebrate His heroism that echoes in every story we tell where the One gives up His life for the many.

It is a day to abandon the hollowed tombs of our ransomed lives to step into the life He gives that can never be taken and is ours to testify to the world that not only does our Savior live, but because of Him, so do we.

The Half-Life of a Believer Lingering in the Tomb https://t.co/b1bLyeDMcD #Easter #freedom #JesusSaves

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 19, 2019

My Father Has Gone Home

My father died at 2:16 am on Wednesday this week after four years battling liver cirrhosis and liver cancer. He fully enjoyed most of the past four years until the illness truly took its toll. He and I were able to spend hours and hours together through this time. It may be a couple of weeks before I have anything inspirational to write new here. I’ll spare you a long tribute to my dad in the wake of my grief, except to say this.

My father was like all of us – equally capable of making grievous choices or heroic choices. There are stories of both to tell about him. His life is a wonderful example of why we leave the sorting of a person’s days to God and why we all so desperately need Jesus.

I am deeply grateful and comforted by the fact that my father did, mid-life, renew a relationship with Jesus that began when he was young, but that had endured a long interruption. He relied on Jesus for his salvation and now I am relieved that he’s free and onto the greatest adventure that is eternity.

I will miss him until I’m home again, too. He was my father and had become one of my closest friends. Here is a link to a video his firefighters created to celebrate his 50th year as fire chief (He served 51 years as chief and was a firefighter from the age of 16. Except for a stint in the Marines, Dad served in the fire service all his days. He retired at 79 and died at age 83.), and a link to the obituary my mother wrote for him.

You know I’m in the midst of launching my new book, The Art of Hard Conversations: Biblical Tools for the Tough Talks that Matter. My father was a stickler for keeping up with the work no matter what else was happening, so he’d be annoyed with me if I didn’t at least try this week.

I’ll leave you with these two short clips (thank you, Flannel Media) from my interview with Rev. Rabbi Eric Walker about what he sees as the potential for this book to free people to share their faith. Please share them with others who may benefit from increasing their tools for sharing the gospel and telling others about Jesus. You’ll find a couple more on my YouTube channel.

Thank you for your kind love and support these past months while Dad was on hospice, thank you for spreading the word about The Art of Hard Conversations, and thank you for bearing with me during a brief time when I may not have new words to share.

My father has gone home. https://t.co/V4kznAln6F #grief #homecoming #Jesus #Gospel

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 28, 2019