Lori Stanley Roeleveld's Blog, page 22

O Ye of Little Ministries (The Mystery of the Third Pie)

It’s so easy to go wrong – well, for me it is anyway.

I’ve been thinking about ambition.

Early in life, I understood from God’s Word that I wasn’t to seek after the things of the world.

What Jesus said in Matthew 6:33, “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you,” impressed me deeply. And I thought I understood what it meant, but as usual, I only got it partially right.

I knew it meant not to chase after what the world values, to leave ambition for these things on the altar of Christ. I got that.

So, Satan, seeing that I understood that much, switched up his game plan. He pulled out a less obvious temptation. Somewhere along the way, rather than abandon ambition, I simply became ambitious within the kingdom of God.

Easy enough to slip into annexing God’s kingdom with a mini-kingdom of my own, one I can justify because it’s a means of proclaiming His, right? How can I be accused of being worldly when the kingdom I’ve built by my own efforts rejects the world?

And yet, we do it all the time. We’re not even original to it in these times. The disciples argued, before Jesus died, about who among them was the greatest. They get a bad rap for this, but to their credit, I don’t see them arguing like this after they witnessed the crucifixion and resurrection.

I’ve witnessed both and yet, I take my eyes off the cross and lose my way. In proclaiming and building the kingdom of God, I also make a pet of personal ambition, taking a repeated census of the extent of my influence, my impact, my audience, my reach (in His name.) And I count it a sign of blessing when it grows, discipline when it stalls, favor when it surges, famine when it fails.

I’m not alone, I know, but I won’t make confession for you.

It’s as if the world baked a great pie. And there are multitudes vying for a piece. And when Jesus called me, I knew not to develop an appetite for that pie.

So, Satan baked another pie. It seemed humbler, this pie. Holier. And he called it, the ministry pie. And then he whispered a story to those seeking God’s kingdom that the way to build it was by getting a piece of this ministry pie – and of course, wouldn’t bigger be best for the kingdom? That’s not ambition, son, no, not at all, daughter of the Most High God. We won’t call that ambition. That’s holy fire.

But, it’s a strange fire, and not at all holy.

And some of us reached for pieces, and having tasted some, reached for more. And others, seeing their pieces were smaller than others, decided small wasn’t even enough, so they backed off completely while the rest nurtured all kinds of unholy feelings about those with larger slices, and wrestled in the dark with how this could happen when we’d rejected the world’s pie!

But, God sees Satan’s schemes better than we. He cries out from His Word with wisdom that alerts us to the truth. “For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice.” James 3:16, and “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.” Philippians 2:3

And when we quiet ourselves enough to listen, Jesus whispers, “Pssst, there’s a third pie.”

A third pie?

Jesus baked a pie, through His death and resurrection. Even the smallest crumb of this pie contains more life and power than the world has ever imagined. Size doesn’t matter. We know this because of the testimony of the Canaanite woman in Matthew 15:22-28 (ESV)

“And behold, a Canaanite woman from that region came out and was crying, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely oppressed by a demon.” But he did not answer her a word. And his disciples came and begged him, saying, “Send her away, for she is crying out after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” And he answered, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus answered her, “O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.” And her daughter was healed instantly.” Healed instantly, by this crumb of great faith, this breadcrumb of Christ’s life, this small, small moment with Jesus.

As Christians, it is our calling, to escape every false matrix whether we call it the world, or religion, or ministry. Whatever nurtures in us some idea that we must increase so Christ’s kingdom can increase is a lie and only feeds the ambition of the part of us to which we’re trying to let die.

Instead, the kingdom of God is like this third pie, whereby the smallest crumb contains as much power as the whole, and all that matters is that we belong to Jesus and that He is alive within us.  We should pay more attention to Jesus’ cousin John who we know was called by God to prepare the way for Jesus, just as we have been. John said, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” (John 3:30)

So, whether our reach, our influence, is large or small, it matters not. What matters is that Christ’s influence on us increases. That His life expands within us as we and our selfish ambitions decrease.

Feeling small? Seeing others with larger slices?

Stop measuring and start dying again to the self that demands to be fed more and more pie. Instead, make more room in your soul for Jesus’ life to expand and then your life will testify to the truth that size truly doesn’t matter.

When your ministry and influence are too small (or the mystery of the third pie) https://t.co/bVusffjZNk #SizeDoesMatter #Jesus #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) February 3, 2018

A Brutally Honest Soul-Baring Post from a Weary Writer

Behind every book written in the name of Jesus, there’s a story.

In June of 2017, after weeks of imagining I might never write another book, and with great tears of relief, I signed a contract with Kregel Publishing to write The Art of Hard Conversations.

It would be an immense undertaking. It was an impossible topic, but one I felt called to tackle. Not because I’m an expert in having hard conversations, but because I’m someone who has walked through life terrified of conflict and intense, intimate talks with other humans, but by God’s grace, I’ve learned to have them.

I figured if God could provide me the courage, the tools, and the confidence to open my mouth, there’s no reason anyone else can’t do the same. So, I took on the biggest book project I’d ever accepted knowing it would pull together everything I’ve learned from the Bible, from ministry, from my education and my work life, from family, coworkers, and from skinning my knees on the hard pavement of everyday life. I knew it would take every spare moment of the weeks ahead, but I dove in.

Three weeks later, life came unglued.

My mother was in a life-altering car accident with a tractor-trailer truck – exacerbating her already challenging PTSD. She needed my love, my presence, and my support.

Then, my parents’ beloved dog suddenly took sick and had to be put down. This was extraordinarily painful for my folks. My father was two years past a diagnosis of only six months to live and Hercules was a dear little buddy to him. Wrestling him from Dad’s arms and watching mom drive bravely off to the vet with the little guy was heart-breaking.

Two weeks later, my dad, to move past his grief, decided to paint their bulkhead. He became dizzy, fell down the stairs, and fractured his spine. He required high-risk, life-threatening surgery and endured days of unbearable pain as they stabilized him followed by weeks of painful rehab. It was so unfair since he knew he was “living on borrowed time” and the thought that he now would spend some of that time recuperating and rehabilitating was almost more than any of us could bear.

He, too, experienced a flare-up of PTSD from a fall he’d taken during a fire call as a fire chief. While Dad underwent surgery, Mom came down with vertigo, so I stayed with Dad while my husband cared for my mom. My husband was also facing down a new treatment for his progressive MS, but we pulled together, by God’s grace, and held one another up as we worked our day jobs, cared for family, and endured.

And I wrote the impossible book. In emergency rooms, recovery rooms, waiting rooms, and rehab. At midnight, at two am, at dawn, and while my parents napped. I wrote through tears, with prayers, past fears, and under exhaustion, but I kept writing because that’s what writers do. And because I knew the writing was a sort of hand hold for me during this long dark time.

The suffering we endured added depth to the work. I spoke with the hospital chaplain about hard conversations. I experienced new levels of hard family conversations about pain, death, regret, and conflict. I had my own hard conversations with God about relying on Him when I am spent and trusting His timing and provision.

Dad recovered after many weeks. They adopted a rescue dog from the Houston floods. My prayer team prayed for the book and I sent it off to the publisher hoping I’d accomplished the goal.

Almost.

The edits were as grueling as the first drafts. My amazing editor and I collaborated over structure and readability and which illustrations worked where. And incredibly enough, she edited from hospital rooms where her loved one wrestled with an unexpected illness.

And all the while we labored asking the hard questions about what conversations are truly important, which skills are actually biblically sound, and what inspires courage, confidence, and motivation for the people of God to put His commands about speaking truth into practice.

Now, this book is about to launch. I’ve finally held a copy in my hand. I look at it and think about the hearts of those who have had a hand in it – from the agent (Les, now retired) who encouraged the idea, to my writer friend (Jim) who wouldn’t allow me to lapse into self-pity and kicked me into gear to propose it. To the publisher (Dennis) who saw the potential in it. To the editorial team (Steve and Janyre) who wrestled with it until it shined and to my current agent who held me up through the edits (Bob). To the prayer team who continue to ask God to use it for His glory. To my family who urged me on when I wanted to give up.

And I think about the readers – people who love Jesus – who know He wants us to speak up and speak out – but who need the tools, the courage, and the confidence to follow through. And I remember why I began.

I don’t know if my Dad will be here to see the day it launches. He grows weaker by the moment. He has lived almost four years past the day he received a diagnosis of six-months to live. He loves Jesus and knows there is life beyond the one we see. He’s had a hundred hard conversations with family, with his firefighters, and with his medical team. I am proud of the way he’s chosen to live his last days and have continued to learn from his example.

My book, that opens with a story of my father, will launch as I bid Him good-bye for now. For me, it is the best and worst of times.

But, let me testify to this – God has provided wisdom, creativity, stamina, vision, practical support and skilled help as I wrote in faith through the darkest of times. And there is a story like this behind most books written to further the kingdom of God. Ask any writer you know who knows Jesus. Ask them about the vision and the battle and the temptation to quit and the urging of the Holy Spirit to persist.

My prayer is that God will use these words, which is a result of the collaboration of many, to free many Jesus-followers to find the courage, confidence, and tools to speak up and speak out for Him. If you read it and find it of use, please, pass it on.

We don’t need to fear the conversation. We follow Jesus. Let’s lead the conversation, in His name.

A Brutally Honest Soul-Baring Post from a Weary Writer https://t.co/x6UTUesHM3 #hardconversations #Jesus #truth

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) January 29, 2019

A Prayer for the Days of Division and Headlines and Conflict

Father God,

When headlines and my own fretful heart tempt me to anxiety or fear, remind me that the government rests on Jesus’ shoulders and not on the visible powers of this world.

When I’m tempted to cave to the world’s spin and misdirection, bring me back to Jesus who operated every day according to Your agenda and no other.

Keep me from adopting the ways of this world and restrain me from harming others in Your name.

Focus my energy on the work you’ve given me of loving You with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength and loving my neighbor as myself.

Show me in every moment of my day today what that means here in my assigned place on this planet. I trust that you placed me in these trying times according to your plan and so I will not be afraid.

I trust You’ve equipped me to contribute to the building of Your kingdom even in dark days.

When troubles come, I will cry out to You for deliverance. When deliverance comes, I will give You the glory. When deliverance tarries, I will trust the trial is for our good and for Your glory.

Show me how to endure with grace and to extend love and mercy to all who oppose You or who misunderstand me.

I will trust fully in Your love and rely on Your wisdom more than on what I see or what the shouting voices tell me to see.

You are a generous, intelligent, powerful, loving, active God. I adore You, and while I look forward to Your return, I will stand with you in the Now because You are Emmanuel, the God who is with us.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

A Prayer for the Days of Division and Headlines and Conflict https://t.co/M8CDkdBRrI #shutdown #Jesus #Prayer

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) January 24, 2019

We Have to Talk about Sex and . . .

The world is having a conversation and most Christians are hiding from it.

That’s not what Jesus would do.

This isn’t a post with pat answers because every congregation is interacting with a different community, so how we live this out is going to look different, but I can tell you this – Jesus expects us to be engaged with the people in our pews and the people in our streets. That means talking.

As the world buzzes about sex, mental health, gender fluidity, sex trafficking, sexual harassment, abortion, cross-cultural reconciliation, stem-cell research, foster care, poverty, transgender, racism, divorce, consumerism, socialism, death, aging, embryonic adoption, suicide, domestic violence, incest, opioid addiction, and global warming, we hide. Or we throw a Bible on the table and say, “It’s all there. God said it, I believe it, that ends it.”

That’s a bumper sticker, not an act of love and service in the name of Jesus. Yes, I believe it’s in there, but the Word that became flesh and dwelt among us sat down and talked with us over food.

We are citizens of the kingdom of God, loved ones, and that means we live without fear. We don’t hide from hard conversations. We initiate them.

We are God-explorers and wisdom-appliers and fishers of men and women. We live affected by the troubles of this world and have accepted God’s call to minister – here – in the realm of late-night talk shows, corrupt politics, scoffers, mockers, posers, wolves among sheep, imperfect church leaders, social media, and cultural change, and we represent Jesus.

Of course, we are to be His hands and feet, but we’re also His ears and tongue.

I was on a radio talk show when a woman called in to ask how to have a hard

conversation with her daughter who is transgender (I don’t know if she was biologically female or had transitioned to female, so I’ll refer to her as her for the sake of this post).

First, I asked if she attended a local church and if she’d sought help there. “They don’t know what to say to me. Mostly, they offer to pray, but I can tell they’re uncomfortable talking about it, so I just don’t bring it up.”

That’s a prescription for loneliness sitting right there surrounded by the family of God. Of course, they don’t know what to say. There’s nothing easy about this conversation. It’s new. It’s fraught with social landmines. And we can’t turn to a specific verse for the answer.

Except, we can. This young woman is seeking her identity in her gender and sexuality, but not in Jesus. She’s rejected Him and is seeking wholeness apart from Him. No matter what that looks like for any of us, we know it doesn’t end well. The Bible still instructs us to love her. To respect and listen to her. To invite her to the table. To tell her our understanding of God’s abiding, relentless love for her.

He, for sure, doesn’t call us to avert our eyes when her mother enters the room praying the subject doesn’t come up. He doesn’t tell us to offer to pray and then walk away praying, “Thank you, Lord, that that’s not my struggle.” He doesn’t tell us to hope some other Christian somewhere reaches out to this young woman, so we can be there when she turns it all around.

Life is incredibly complex and messy. We can praise God for the complexity because it points to His vast nature. We can blame ourselves for the messiness, put on our big boy and girl pants, and become willing to step into it with those in our own communities.

I don’t suggest that our worship services become vehicles for social debate. Worship is for worship. I also believe that most of our hours together as believers should be spent understanding the Bible and engaged in prayer.

But, we can certainly create opportunities for hard, honest conversations – in small groups, through one-on-one discipleship, through church classes devoted to tough topics, or to monthly question nights where we gather and discuss these hot topics with others to see how we’re all processing and applying Scripture to what’s happening in our homes, our jobs, our communities, and in our headlines.

In Jewish teaching, it was a sign of godly wisdom to be able to ask a hard question of the rabbi. It indicated someone who was earnestly seeking God, studying the Scriptures, and exercising wisdom.

What better place for this to happen than God’s house? We shouldn’t be hiding from tough talks, we should be leading them. Christian faith communities should be places where the hardest, greatest conversations happen.

Why?

First, because we have nothing to lose. We’ve acknowledged that we’re sinners in need of a Savior. We’ve accepted salvation that came to us by the grace provided by Jesus. We are eternally safe, and we are free.

Second, because listening and acknowledging the struggle and the mess and the pain and the ugliness of life this side of glory is a way of loving others. Speaking truth to someone else’s face is a demonstration of love.

Owning our own struggle to understand and articulate that truth keeps us humble. And we sorely need that as the Body of Christ.

When we don’t have an answer for something – rejoice! It reminds us of our limitation and sends us to Jesus. When we hurt someone with our words because we fumbled in representing Jesus – rejoice! This is an opportunity for humility as we seek their forgiveness and try again.

When we don’t know what to pray – rejoice! God knows, and we grow when we appeal to Him together and persist in prayer.

Of one thing I am confident – the world doesn’t have the truth, Jesus does. And withholding the truth from confused, hurting people because we’re afraid of discomfort is cowardly and wrong.

I’ll tell you a secret. When that woman called into the radio station, I felt fear as she spoke. I didn’t have an answer for her, but I prayed as she spoke, and then, I did. By God’s grace.

What opportunities does your church provide for honest, uncomfortable conversations about hard things?

Please share so we can all learn. And start talking.

**If you’re being challenged by a hard conversation and need support or prayer OR if you’ve recently had a hard conversation you can share, please CLICK THIS LINK and you can tell us about anonymously or otherwise.

We Have to Talk about Sex and . . . https://t.co/p6BBs5LZx0 having hard conversations in church #Jesus #hardconversations #controversyinchurch

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) January 14, 2019

The Gospel that Hangs on a Nail (or the Devil is in the Distractions)

Recently, I was offended. Highly offended. Hmph!

For twenty-four hours I spun.

Replaying the incident. Reliving the exchange. Accusing the other to the Lord.

Stating my case. Building my defense – for my snit, for my righteous indignation, for the plan of taking further action, for the sake of the church – after all – and our witness in the community and the flock and the name of Jesus and . . . well, you get the picture.

By now, I’m sure you see Jesus rolling His eyes.

I was tempted to pour out my accusations to others – but, I’ve walked with God too long to fool myself into justifying that practice (thank you, Jesus!). I was tempted to withdraw from the relationship. Walk away. Play in another sandbox. Hmph!

I was tempted to give the other a piece of my mind – artfully, of course, as only a well-practiced believer can do. Poised to vent a heated flow of holy lava, punctuated with all manner of scripture passages, mind you, as a guard against any authentic exchange that might risk my being implicated in any shared guilt.

Until Jesus sat me down and asked if I’d like to truly understand what was fueling my passionate response.

Not really, but okay.

Pride. My pride had been wounded. And fear. Fear had sparked. Fear that I wasn’t being truly seen, heard, or valued – or worse, dismissed. Fear that I was somehow diminished or reduced in influence (a polite word for power).

What? That’s not me! I’m not prideful. I don’t live in fear. I’m not a power-monger.

No, daughter. You’re not. You’re my child – holy and redeemed. So – let’s just put those things down here, okay? Back away from the sinful snit and turn in the other direction.

Yes. I choose to live in the freedom You provide.

A tiny smidge of what I felt was justified, but it was hidden in a giant puff of nothing when Jesus just got down and direct about it.

In fact, with the eyes of God, afforded me as I sifted the exchange and my response through Scripture, I could see the hand of the enemy attempting to distract me from the work to which I’ve been called.

This wasn’t a righteous wave I had to ride to shore. It was a frighteningly close call where the evil one dragged an AED to my dead self and attempted to resurrect the zombie that was me without Christ.

I hit my knees. Confessed my fear and pride. Had a brief, authentic, unpressured conversation with the other parties about the tiny, tiny infraction – which was easily resolved.

And then I picked up my hammer and returned to work.

I thought about the witness of Noah. Surrounded by a world gone wrong. Neighbors and loved ones surrendered to corruption and evil. God tells Noah His plan to destroy them all and instructs Noah to build a boat.

By some estimations, the boat-building took about 100 years. Decades putting hammer to nail, saw to gopher wood, plumb-line to level. Decades of temptation to engage the mockers and scoffers in debates. To become absorbed in family dramas over measurements or angles. To wonder if the rains would ever really come. Exhaustion. Boredom. Discouragement. Aching arms and hearts.

Pick up the hammer, Noah. Drive the nail. This is your witness to a dying world. With every swing of the hammer – as you die to yourself – you testify to the truth of God’s plan of salvation.

And Nehemiah. I thought about his witness rebuilding the walls around Jerusalem.

As the enemy mocked and laughed. As they spread rumors about him and his people. As they pronounced his plans faulted and misinformed. As they threatened destruction. He and the people continued the work. With a hammer in one hand, a sword in the other, they built and defended their section of the wall – each family building before their own homes.

And when the enemies of God tried to trick Nehemiah to come see them that they might do him harm, inspired by God he responded, ““I am doing a great work and I cannot come down. Why should the work stop while I leave it and come down to you?” Nehemiah 6:3b ESV

Nehemiah and the people practiced the testimony of nailing their self-centered focus to the wall and slamming the hammer down on what others thought of them.

The shavings of any selfishness or self-serving plans curled at their feet as they preached the gospel that hangs on the nail of obedience in the presence of those who scoff.

And Jesus.

Jesus took on our sin and emptied Himself of pride, power, and fear. Filled with fearless, self-less, faithful love, He climbed onto the cross, denying every distraction, and felt the hammer fall on nails pressed into His own body, given for us.

And the greatest sermon He ever preached was to hang the good news on those nails and die.

And just as the rains poured down and set that ark afloat. And just as the walls of Jerusalem rose from the rubble. So, did Jesus rise to life again – testifying forever that the work of the hammer and nails will end, but the story will continue into eternity.

But only for those willing to live the gospel that hangs on a nail – those who will turn from every shiny distraction the enemy dangles and pick up their hammer and nail their lives to the work to which we’ve been called until He returns.

Love Him with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength. Love your neighbor as yourself. This is the work.

Don’t engage in the devil’s distractions. Preach the gospel that hangs on nails.

(Here’s a sneak peak at The Art of Hard Conversations releasing SOON!)

The Gospel that Hangs on a Nail (or the devil is in the distractions) https://t.co/6BuWraZZbL #buildingthekingdom #wall #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) January 9, 2019

The Very Best Bible Reading Plan You’ll Find This Year (2019)

***There’s a surprise gift for you, my faithful readers, at the bottom of this post! Merry Christmas.

A struggling family with several teens lived one street over from a popular, restaurant district.

Christmas was near, so I asked if they had a wish list. I expected them to clamor for video games, trendy sneakers, or iPods.

Instead, they showed me a dozen magazine clippings of recipes.  “We think we figured out how to make this stuff if you could get us the ingredients for Christmas.”

What was on their list? The makings for lasagna, grilled cheese, hot dogs and beans, shepherd’s pie, and tacos. They were hungry. Deeply famished, in fact.

As they showed me the food photos and read the directions, they spoke in dreamy tones of commonplace foods, describing how they would imagine being able to sit down at a table to eat as much as they could hold. I was overwhelmed. This was Rhode Island, after all, not a developing nation.

The family received food assistance, but their parent struggled with life tasks so usually purchased only two or three items. The cupboards were stocked with ramen noodles, peanut butter, and saltines.

Every day, these growing teens walked home from school through the aroma of the area’s finest eateries, but they were so hungry, food was all they could imagine wanting under the Christmas tree.

Such an easy problem to solve.

People who cared supplied all that their recipes required. Then a family friend helped that parent learn how to vary the shopping.

We introduced them to local church suppers and food pantries. The teens eagerly took over the cooking and learned to prepare a variety of meals. One of them finally observed, “Isn’t it crazy that we nearly starved to death and all the time we were surrounded by food!”

Many Christians live just like these hungry boys.

There are believers who languish in persecuted countries with no access to God’s Word. It’s understandable they would suffer from a famine of God’s Word because it’s not available to them. They go to great effort to secure even small portions of scripture, treasuring it when they find it.

Other believers, though, live surrounded by opportunities to feast, yet exist in a self-imposed state of famine. You may be one.

This is how you’ll know.

Walk around your house collecting all your bibles. (Go ahead. I’ll wait.)

Stack them on a table. Never mind the Bible study books or books about the Bible. Just collect the Bibles.

Then, ask yourself how often you opened and read any of them in the past two weeks.

(I feel it important to mention here that there is therefore no condemnation in Christ. You are loved and found in Him, you are His child and secure in eternal life even if you haven’t read the Bible in the past two months – if you’d read the Bible, you’d know this. False guilt is a waste of time. Real guilt, if you’re ready to own up to it, is already covered by Christ so this is an exercise, not in failure, but in waking up.)

You love God’s Word. You know reading the Bible daily will open you up to a deeper relationship with Him. You know that it’s better to go right to the source and wrestle with it yourself than to listen to a thousand Bible debates on Facebook.

You know that time in God’s Word will increase your knowledge of Christ as well as your wisdom, endurance, and love for others. I don’t even need to remind you that Paul, who loved Jesus, was an apostle, and had miraculous experiences, loved to read and study Scripture so, of course, we need it, too.

Then what gets in your way?

It’s a famine induced by a glut of choices. A famine induced by the pursuit of the perfect reading plan.

A famine induced by indecision and the illusion that owning twelve Bibles and being surrounded by Bibles and clicking on links that discuss the Bible are all the same as consuming the Bible with your own eyes and mind.

Reading the Bible is reading the Bible and it’s the daily food every soul craves.

Allow me to speak words of freedom to you: There is no perfect reading plan.

Every reading plan was devised by imperfect humans and will be employed by imperfect humans so pick one plan and do it imperfectly.

When you miss a week – forget catching up – just start up again. Or, go wild and don’t follow a plan just start reading (okay, but not the start in Genesis thing because everyone drops off in Leviticus).

Start in an imperfect place, maybe the middle of Isaiah. Read three chapters or five and record what you read. Tomorrow, read five more.

If you miss a day, so what? If you miss a day of showering you don’t decide to skip showers for the rest of the week and start up again on Monday, you just shower, right?

Another thing. There’s only one perfect day to start. Today.

Today is the perfect day to begin. And here’s the best part. It’s always today. Tomorrow is a terrible day to begin reading the Bible so avoid that and start on the perfect day, today.

When we’re young and single and interested in a person, we hang out in places we might encounter him or her. If we’re interested in a relationship with Jesus, one place we’re certain to encounter Him is in His Word, so it’s always a perfect place to spend time.

Pick a Bible. Any of the seven on your table. Open it. Read a portion.

Ask God what the passage says about Him. What does the passage say about you? What from this passage can affect your life today? Tomorrow, read this section again and do what it says.

This is the single best way you can enter the Christmas season or the New Year or the middle of winter or any season of life. Don’t allow your soul to waste away steps away from the finest food prepared by Your Loving Father.

Today is the day, loved ones. Wake up to the power between the pages of God’s communique to all living on this outpost of Glory.

Today, is the day. Read on and feel your soul revive.

As a gift to you, my faithful readers, I’ve included a sneak peak at my new book releasing just after the new year – The Art of Hard Conversations! Just click the link! Art of Hard Conversations Intro and 1st Chapter

The BEST Bible Reading Plan of 2019! FREE https://t.co/jNfo7fDdC6 #biblereading #Jesus #Devotional

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 21, 2018

The Scandal of Christmas and the Invitation to Receive

Ever see two people fight to pick up a check?

A meal shared is a lovely thing but then the bill comes and someone has to pay. I’ve seen people go to astounding lengths – leaping across tables, intercepting waitresses, arm wrestling, artful gymnastics, diversion and trickery – all in order to be the one who picks up the tab.

I suppose that sometimes these theatrics are performed out of love and a desire to serve, but I suspect that more often it comes from a prideful and self-serving place in the participant’s hearts.

It feels good to be a giver. There is a certain amount of power and pride involved in giving.

Another version of this occurs through hostessing. Have you ever known a person who volunteers to host a holiday meal and simply refuses to let anyone else contribute? No, they don’t need you to bring anything. No, they need no help in the kitchen – you just sit and enjoy yourself. Yes, of course, this is sooo much work but no, everyone just shoo out of my kitchen, I have it all under control.

Again, this can be done from a heart of love and service, but it can also be more like control and a desire to be the biggest giver in the room. Why?

Because giver is the position of honor. To be in a position to give is to be in a position of strength. Which is why we sometimes refuse to acknowledge that Christmas is all about receiving.

Matthew and Luke tell the story of Jesus from His human birth, but John begins a little earlier in the story – “in the beginning”. He takes us back to the very formation of the earth and reminds us that without Jesus nothing was made that has been made. That, in fact, in Jesus is life and that life is the light of all men. Jesus is the DNA of the universe.

Then John tells us what Jesus’ coming was all about. “He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God”

The message of Christmas is this – we will never pick up the check at God’s table.

He gives. We receive. He is Tom Brady. We are Julian Edelman. We will never throw the long pass; we will never have the football first. We will never call the plays. It is our position to keep our eyes on the one with the ball and receive the pass.

John also says, “From the fullness of His grace, we have all received one blessing after another.” He is the giver and we are the receivers. Glory to God in the Highest.

That simple message is as offensive as it gets to many people. God is hosting a great feast and we ask what we can bring and He says – nothing. In fact, if you try to bring something of your doing, you’ll be instructed to leave it at the door. When you enter into His feast, you enter ready to receive.

In Japan, when a person sits to eat, he or she takes a moment and says “Itadakimasu” which means “I humbly receive this to myself.” That is the spirit of Christmas.

I suppose that’s why Jesus’ birth was announced to those who knew they were not in a position to give – an elderly priest and his barren wife, a carpenter and his young bride who couldn’t even find a room for a night, shepherds in a field working as others slept surrounded by comfort and warmth.

And the one person who took the news of Jesus’ birth badly was the most powerful person in the land – King Herod. He knew what was being threatened here – his position, his power, his place on the throne. The king does not RECEIVE because the king needs nothing from anyone. How scandalous to propose that the king should need to receive anything!

Jesus came to tell us that we are only passing through this world and that what works for us here will not work for us always. We will one day enter a land where the currency we used on earth is no good – be it the currency of money, virtue, intelligence, good works, power, position, or earthly wisdom.

We will stand at a gate and we will say – “Look at all I have to give!” – and we will be told “All of that may be worthy of reward on the other side of this gate but first, we’re not interested in what you have to give, we want to know what you have received.”

In other words, you’re money’s no good at this gate. Your goodness is no good at this gate. Your knowledge is no good at this gate. The only thing that unlocks this gate is something you could only have received from Jesus – His gift of salvation.

If you have been a receiver, you may enter in and then the rest will be sorted and weighed. If you refused to receive, then entrance is denied and everything else is worthless.

This is not an easy message. This is not poetry for Hallmark cards at the holidays. This is why the day of Jesus’ coming was not only a beautiful day, but it was also one of strife and anguish.

The true spirit of Christmas is not giving, but receiving – have you received what was given on that day or, like Herod, are you worried about giving up your place on the throne of your life? You can choose to rule your own kingdom here on earth or gain entrance to one that is eternal – what choice will you make?

The Scandal of Christmas and the Invitation to Receive https://t.co/VqV6nq0uaP #giving #Christmas #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 20, 2018

Who Are We When We’ve Lost Everything that Mattered

Have you ever been separated from the things that once defined you?

Maybe it was your career, your marriage, your appearance, or an ability you had, but lost. How lost did you feel? How hard was it to meet new people and to answer the most basic questions like where do you live, or what do you do, or are you married?

There really is no way to understand the naked exposure of losing that something that defines you until it happens. Then, even though you know in your mind that others have gone through it, still, you feel alone.

Once, there was a night janitor where I worked.

He was a hard worker, but pleasant, too. His English wasn’t fluent, but we had brief, friendly chats. One night, he said to me, “You are so kind to me. I want you to know that in my own country, I used to be somebody.”

I used to be somebody.

I understood what he was saying. Here in America, he works three, sometimes four jobs. He wears coveralls and arrives as everyone else leaves. He mops floors, cleans toilets, and takes orders from a young man who could have been his grandson. People seldom speak to him except to point out a spot he missed or to ask if he’d mistakenly taken a member’s missing cell phone.

Three times they ask him, “just in case.”

In his country, he was a professor at a university, head of the department. He taught Psychology. He enjoyed his subject, his research, and his students, but there were limitations on his life and certain dangers. In this country, he is no one; but in this country, his children don’t live in fear.

Sometimes, there are compelling reasons to leave what defines us behind.

Usually, it’s not a venture we take on willingly. There’s a trigger, an inciting incident, a personal tsunami that rolls in. When it rolls out, we’re stripped of that which used to hide the naked truth of our unadorned selves.

Now, here we stand. Just a person. Without credentials or references or photo id’s. We simply are.

It doesn’t feel like enough.

Especially, when others are dressed so well in their degrees and designations, their designer clothes and deeds of ownership, their pedigrees, histories, accomplishments, and their entourage ready to offer testimonials on their behalf. We think about how, in our old country, we used to be somebody. How now, we’re not.

Most of us only enter this condition when compelled by forces beyond our control.

No one volunteers to be a refugee. Except Jesus.

Jesus willingly stripped off all that would identify Him as God, as Creator of the Universe, as THE WORD, and became a nobody, just a baby born to some poor couple on a busy night in the city.

When He stepped into our story, He came as no one, revealing His true self only to those who took the time to take a second look.

The apostle John wrote one of the saddest passages of scripture in this: “The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.” John 1:9-11 (ESV)

Have you ever experienced that? Rejection by those who used to call you their own? Refusal by those once close to you to acknowledge you. Have you ever become nobody in front of everyone who once thought you were somebody?

Jesus did.

Like the night janitor, He had a compelling reason for leaving everything that outwardly defined Him and outwardly become nothing – His love for and obedience to His Father who loved us so dearly, He sent His only son. He, too, wanted His children to live free from fear.

He showed us that becoming nothing is not the worst thing that can happen to us. Giving up our identity, leaving our home, descending from the heights, this is nothing to fear.

Separation from the Father’s love – that is a fearful condition.

Because Jesus came, we never need to fear that again, if we receive Him.

To find our identity in the measures of this world is natural.

To find our identity in our relationship with Jesus Christ is to touch our eternal selves and to know the freedom of living indestructible lives.

When our identity is sealed up with Him, we inhabit fearless lives that nothing on this side of glory can destroy. This is the gospel. That is Christmas.

O come, o come, Emmanuel! How are hearts long for home!

Who we are when we've lost everything that matters – https://t.co/UTPH40peDi how to be indestructible at Christmas #Christmas #Jesus #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 14, 2018

When Christmas Has Nothing to Do with You

This season isn’t about you, is it?

What do you have to do with Jesus? Nothing, really.

Most days you don’t stop even once to consider what Jesus would do or what He thinks of your life. You’re not against Him or angry with Him. You’re not consciously running from Him. He’s just not on your radar and you don’t imagine you’re on His.

You’re a good person. You’re relatively happy. You have people you love and work you enjoy. You don’t have everything, but you have enough.

You’ve never really felt the need for religion. You think John Lennon had it right when he imagined a world without it. From where you stand, religious fanaticism is the source for fighting, division, and hurt feelings.

Frankly, you don’t need the guilt and you’d never want to inflict it on another person. Live and let live as far as you’re concerned.

You like Christmas but you don’t get all crazy about it. Mostly it’s for kids.

You’d be just as happy to skip the big family gathering with your sister wearing her “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” light up pin and her kids handing you another “faith-based” movie as a gift.

Just makes you feel more like an outsider, a Yuletide voyeur.

You don’t begrudge them the comfort they find from faith, but you’re just as likely to find peace walking the dog alone under the stars as popping in that Kevin Sorbo flick.

That’s where you feel spiritual. In the dark, alone with your Labrador, under a starry sky. It’s here that the veil between the worlds feels thin. Staring at Orion, you can almost believe there’s more to life than what we see.

It’s you I think about when I read the book of Matthew in the Bible. I wonder if you can answer the questions that nag at me about the first Christmas?

Like, what would possess astrologers from Persia to think Jesus had anything to do with them?

They weren’t Jewish. They probably had perfectly fine lives. Enough wealth to afford pricey baby gifts. And the confidence and clout required to appear before kings without qualms.

They’d studied the skies and something about a particular star stirred a desire in them to seek out the newborn Son of God. In fact, they worshiped Him. Total outsiders to the whole nativity scene.

And what possessed the shepherds to abandon their flocks for a peek at a newborn?

Again, it was a celestial awakening, angels that appeared as they stared at the night sky. I wonder if they noticed the natal star? Surely, they tracked the constellations to pass the time in the long watchful nights.

But, what hope would shepherds attribute to an infant messiah? And why would they imagine He had anything to do with them? Talk about religious outsiders. Shouldn’t angels appear to rabbis or Pharisees or priests? Why would shepherds leave their charges and risk the wrath of their families or employers to kneel manger-side?

It didn’t stop there.

As the baby grew, fishermen, tax collectors, prostitutes, and centurions found themselves drawn to this man who had nothing to do with them.

They left their lives. They risked losing everything. One day, their lives were perfectly fine, certainly not in need of saving. The next, these same lives paled beside the one offered them by Jesus.

Some eventually lost their own lives trying to tell others what they’d seen following Him. Outsiders, all, who found some reason to believe that Jesus, a Jewish miracle-performing carpenter king, had something to do with them after all.

At the end of the day, you don’t have to feel any special connection to Christmas. You don’t need a tree, or a church service and you don’t need to know all the words to Silent Night.

Just look up at the stars.

A poet shepherd who one day grew up to be a king, once wrote these words, “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?” Psalm 8:3-4 ESV

Under the stars, we sense how small we are in the universe. In the dead of night, there is a quietness that makes a space for us to hear. The veil grows thin between the world we see and the unseen reality that is also present.

And here, we can begin to believe that Jesus has an interest in us, even us outsiders who never gave Him a thought until now. And all we need to do is get to Him to understand what we have to do with Jesus.

And it’s not about religion, rules, traditions, or what our life has always been about right up until this moment.

It’s about the sense that if we just get to Jesus, it won’t matter ever again that we’re small in the universe.

Another biblical poet wrote this, “He determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names.” Psalm 147:4

If He knows the names of all the stars, He knows yours, too.

That’s Christmas, dear reader. And it has everything to do with you.

When Christmas Has Nothing to Do with You https://t.co/Y9NUSaAHfT #atheistChristmas #spiritualnotreligious #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 12, 2018

The Twelve Sanity Checks of Christmas

Sanity Check Number One: The world has always been in trouble at Christmas even before there was Christmas.

Through every generation there has been trouble, suffering, and trial in the world as Christians lit candles for the Christ child and slipped gifts under trees. We inhale the world’s toxins and exhale the breath of Christ with every carol. He entered a world of suffering with full knowledge of what He faced, so celebrate Him even amidst screaming headlines.

Sanity Check Number Two: Good godly Christians disagree about how to celebrate.

Families argue. We see things from different perspectives. The family of Christ is one in Him but we come from every tongue, tribe, and nation, so we’re likely to have differing thoughts on what it means to remember Christ at Christmas. Know why you choose what you choose and be at peace with Him in that. Don’t judge your Christian siblings but don’t hand them your joy.

Sanity Check Number Three: Most of us of us feel we aren’t enough.

Many of us are plagued with a vague notion that we cannot do enough, buy enough, give enough, or be enough to honor the season and to let our loved ones know how important they are to us. The truth is, we aren’t designed to be enough. We’re designed to sense this incompleteness and bring it to Him because we need Him. He is the One who is enough. If our loved ones feel this lack, then good. Let it send them to Him, too. Validate that. It’s never enough? Of course it isn’t, and it won’t be until you find your “enough” in Jesus.

Sanity Check Number Four: Those who feel they are enough for the season without Jesus are deceived.

Some hijack Christmas for their own purposes and inhabit the practices without allowing Jesus to inhabit their lives. He will sort this out in His time. Their presence at our gatherings reminds us that more than the flickering bulbs on the tree, we are the lights of Christmas and into the year to come. Be that light.

Sanity Check Number Five: Donald Trump, Hilary Clinton, Barak Obama, and Vladimir Putin have a certain amount of power but in the end, we’ll find they had less eternal influence than one single soul completely yielded to Jesus.

Be that soul.

Sanity Check Number Six: Some Christmas’s it’s hard to celebrate and that’s just life, not a failing on your part.

God created us human. He knows what we’re made of and doesn’t reject our humanity. When someone dies, we’re sad. When we’re fighting cancer, diseases, or old age, we’re weary. When we don’t have enough money to pay the bills, we’re frustrated. When tragedy strikes, we’re overwhelmed. When we’re alone, we’re lonely. When these conditions arrive at Christmas, they’re magnified. Jesus doesn’t lay burdens on the season, we do. He isn’t another relationship we have to manage, He came to carry us. Let Him into whatever you’re experiencing at Christmas and He’ll wrap you in His presence.

Sanity Check Number Seven: The whole world is not having a party and gathering around perfect tables.

Some are, but most humanity is not having a wonderful life at Christmas. We know this but we forget it under the bombardment of Hollywood and Hallmark. You feel like the only one, but somewhere not far from you, another feels like the only one. Pray for that one. Ask God to let you know who else may need a call or visit to say, I’m not at a great party or happy feast either. Let’s be alone together and Jesus will make three.

Sanity Check Number Eight: Christmas feels like a battleground because it is and always has been.

The clock has been ticking on the evil one since the foundation of time, but the birth of Christ brought the plan to light for all humanity. In Bethlehem, God pulled back the curtain on Satan and unveiled the limits of his earthly powers to destroy us. The end is decided but skirmishes continue. As in any battle, the best strategy is to remain calm, stand your post, and pay attention to the One in charge.

Sanity Check Number Nine: People don’t come to Jesus because we say Merry Christmas or wear buttons about reasons.

People are drawn to Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit and by hearing the truth of Christ. The most important items to wear this season are your pieces of spiritual armor and the most valuable words you can utter are the words of the gospel. Just ask Linus.

Sanity Check Number Ten: Our loved ones aren’t trying to ruin our holidays, they’re just reminding us how much we all needed Jesus to come.

We get on one another’s nerves. We fail each other. We sometimes are abominable and mean and unkind even at Christmas. We are as much in need of forgiveness and mercy on December 25th as we were in July so let grace be the dish you bring to the potluck. Let it be the first item across the threshold and remember Christ has a serving of that to heap on your plate as well.

Sanity Check Number Eleven: The poor and needy will be with us in January, too.

Your neighbors helped at a soup kitchen. Your sister and her family invited in refugees for a meal. Your college roommate moved to the inner city to work on racial reconciliation in Christ. You can barely manage to get presents and a meal on the table for your own brood. Don’t dismiss those stirrings of wanting to be active in the work to be done in the world and don’t settle them by resolving to do more next Christmas. People will be needing to see Jesus in the hands and feet and arms of the Body of Christ the week after Christmas, too. The calendar doesn’t empower Christ-like charity, the Holy Spirit does. Ask for direction and then follow it on December 26 and beyond.

Sanity Check Number Twelve: Don’t treat Jesus like a baby. Jesus came as a baby but He grew up. He’s with us at the grown up table and is a present help in every situation.

Don’t try to shield Him from anything your facing this season – marital strife, drug addiction, discord, church schism, moral failing, desperation of soul, despair, sorrow, utter fright for the future, doubt, disappointment, greed, selfishness, or the desire to hide from it all. He is the One who is undisturbed by the wind and storm. He is the One who raises the dead, who makes the blind see, the lame walk, and the hardened sinner repent. He came to be with us so let Him. He isn’t a fragile babe in a manger made of imported china, He is the King who has come and is coming again.

Jesus is powerful and present. Humans are amazing, fascinating, engaging creations but we need Jesus to save us from our sinfulness and failings. He did and He does. He inhabited our humanity. He lived a sinless life. He died on the cross and rose again. He lives now and is coming again. He is merciful, strong, holy, just, and able to save. He is the love that is stronger than death. He is the way, the truth, and the life.

Beyond the panic. Beyond the presents. Beyond the fragile peace we create for twenty-four hours of our own devices, He is and He wants to be with us, loved ones.

This is the sanity of Christmas in a mad, mad world. Let us pour this truth into our cups and drink our fill.

The Twelve Sanity Checks of Christmas https://t.co/7NfGt3lcou #holidaystress #Christmas #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 8, 2018