Lori Stanley Roeleveld's Blog, page 30

Don’t Treat Jesus Like a Baby

You know how sometimes when you go home at Christmas, your family treats you like you’re still a kid even though you’re twenty-three? or fifty-six?

Sometimes, especially at Christmas, we treat Jesus as if He was still a baby. He’s not.

The babe in a manger grew up,

took the sins of all humanity upon His shoulders,

descended to the depths of hell,

and rose triumphant over death.

God is now unswaddled.

He’s coming again, and when He does, He’ll be riding a white horse and He’ll be armed with justice.

“I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and wages war.

His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him that no one knows but he himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God. The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean.

Coming out of his mouth is a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. “He will rule them with an iron scepter.” He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: king of kings and lord of lords.” Revelation 19:11-16

Jesus who faced down death – and won – isn’t afraid of anything in your world.

He’s not afraid of the cruel words exchanged in your bedroom moments before the dinner guests arrive. He’s not put off by your son’s addiction. He’s not appalled that your daughter sent racy pictures of herself to a boy who then pasted them to Facebook.

He won’t cringe when your father-in-law curses or your brother arrives with his new boyfriend or when Aunt Hildy passes out from mixing pills with wine. He still wants to come to dinner. He’s like that.

He died to invite you to His table. He rose again, so you’d be certain that He is Life.

In a world of shooters, sex traffickers, poverty, and politics, Jesus walks unafraid, knocking on doors, asking to come in and dine with sinners.

Now, I do imagine He’s angry with Christians who send money and shoeboxes overseas, but won’t dirty their pews with the locals who don’t clean up so well on Sabbath mornings.

He’ll likely have a word or two, served up on the edge of that sword, for clergy who would never swear or get a tattoo, but who exploit children even as they say they represent God.

You can bet that the posers and pretenders of the faith, those wearing sheepskin over their primal, hunting souls, those who praise Him with their mouths, but curse Him with their lives, I do believe this population has something to worry about when He arrives for second-coming breakfast.

But not you, loved one. He’s eager to come to your table.

He’s not a baby who needs to protection from your family situation – or you. He’s ready to step out of the wooden crèche on your mantle and eat at the grown-up table right beside you,

loving you,

loving those you love,

even the challenging ones you don’t know how to love,

even if you’re the challenging one.

He knows, loved one. He sees you and He is undaunted, unafraid, unshakeable in His pursuit of you.

Invite Him along to dinner this Christmas, and don’t be surprised when He stays.

Don’t Treat Jesus Like a Baby https://t.co/NK2ElNzK1i #HolidayStressRelievers #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) November 25, 2017

The Four Kinds of Embarrassing Christians

Sometimes I’m embarrassed by other Christians. 

Often, that says more about my spiritual development than theirs.

Recently, I revisited one of my all-time favorite movie characters, Blanche Gunderson. In the 2009 movie, New in Town, Blanche is the secretary at a Minnesota manufacturing plant assigned to the corporate executive from Miami, Lucy, sent in to disassemble the plant.

Blanche welcomes Lucy and demonstrates seven kinds of small-town, Christian love and friendship before she discovers Lucy’s true mission. In perfect genuine fashion, Blanche brings Lucy a bowl of tapioca when she confronts her on the truth, leading to this quote:

“Blanche Gunderson: And that’s okay? It’s okay to pull the rug out from under folks as long as it’s nobody that you know? It’s okay because we’re just silly podunk Minnesotans, right? We talk funny and we ice-fish and we scrapbook and we drag Jesus into regular conversation. We’re not cool like you, right? So we don’t matter.”

Blanche, to me, is a hero and role-model. She made me reflect on the embarrassment Christians sometimes cause one another. I believe there are four kinds of embarrassing Christians.

The first kind, are the Blanche Gundersons of the church. These Christians aren’t trying to be sophisticated, cool, or relevant. They simply love Jesus and others with their whole genuine, unguarded selves. They’re not reading the latest blogs or studying ways to make their faith more palatable to the world. They’re simply living their lives, loving Jesus, and speaking freely what pops into their minds.

Any of us who are embarrassed by or uncomfortable around the Blanche Gundersons in our lives need to seriously get over ourselves.

That’s right. We Christians belong to an extensive, diverse family of believers and not everyone wears or shares their faith in the same way. Some cross-stitch Bible verses on pillow cases, others sing or preach from grand stages, another slips tracts describing the Roman road under their plates at restaurants, and others shout from street corners wearing sandwich boards proclaiming John 3:16.

Some of us think we serve God better by distancing ourselves from the quirkiest among us, but that’s not God’s command.

Romans 12:10 says, “Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.” Throughout the New Testament, God’s command to the church is to be devoted to one another and to continually increase in brotherly affection.

We grow when we bear with one another. We testify to God’s gracious, abundant, reckless love when we stand by one another. And we please the Lord when we go out of our way to go beyond tolerating brothers and sisters with different ways, but seek to see them as He does.

Keep in mind that one person’s sophistication is another person’s Podunk, so your quirks may be the source of another Christian’s discomfort in a different setting!

The second kind of embarrassing Christian is one whose hidden sin comes to light, leading to the need for public confession and repentance. While this is a wildly uncomfortable moment for the Body of Christ, how we love one another through that fall from grace testifies to the world about the nature of Jesus’ love.

Of course, Christians should “act like Christians,” and of course, sin shouldn’t be tolerated. But, we all sin. We all fall short. And the brother or sister having to process public repentance deserves to have the family of God stand beside them acknowledging it could have been any of us that fell.

Galatians 6:1-3 is clear on this matter. “Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. For if anyone thinks he is something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself.”

The third kind of embarrassing Christian is one who is engaged in sin, but is unrepentant because they don’t recognize their behavior as sinful. This is where we learn to exercise self-control, studied restraint, and love-inspired courage.

We need to be certain that our assessment of sinful behavior is based on a thorough knowledge of scripture and not a cultural or societal norm. We need to remember that there are different understandings of some aspects of our faith on which good Christians disagree.

But, we also need to have the courage to have uncomfortable or hard conversations when we have conflicting understandings of what it means to live Christ-like lives, so others have opportunity to repent if they’ve been misled by false teaching or have simply deceived themselves by hardening their hearts.

Either way, we are always to express the truth without condemnation, with love, and with clarity. We can even thank God when we’re involved in these situations because they force us to dig in to His Word and press in to Him to gain a stronger understanding of what we believe is truth.

When speaking with “outsiders,” we serve the body best by focusing on our biblical understanding of behaviors and choices and avoiding second-guessing the nature of another soul’s state of salvation.

The fourth kind of embarrassing Christian is no Christian at all. God has warned us that false teachers will rise up and teach what is not truth. When others are presenting a gospel as Christian, and yet it is so foreign to God’s Word as to not be recognizable as representing Jesus, we should educate others to the truth.

Calmly inform people that there are wolves in the church disguised as sheep and use the opportunity, not to focus on the wolf, but to describe genuine sheep and the voice of the shepherd, so they can learn to discern.

The family of God is always in process, and will be, until we’re home. Be devoted, be diligent about knowing what you believe, and be discerning.

Above all, let us learn to excel at love, to boldly proclaim the truth, and to represent Jesus together.

The Four Kinds of Embarrassing Christians https://t.co/RJppR2ahXh how do we handle embarrassment in the church? #Jesus #Christians

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) November 21, 2017

Why the Church Loves so Badly

Once, I did something badly until I achieved success.

In my early forties, after several years of intense training, I earned my first-degree black belt. I was last in my class from start to finish.

It never stopped being a surprise to everyone, including me, that I’d managed this feat. I was driven, at the time, by my love for the martial artists in my Bible Study and by all God was teaching me through the experience of working at something for which I was clearly ill-suited.

Before that time, I’d only invested time in things at which I excelled. I was a good student. A talented musician. A promising writer.

Clumsy with my feet, I never attempted athletic pursuits. Clumsy with my hands, I abandoned sewing and crafts after my first failures.

Initially, I thought God drafted me into karate for the sake of the women in my small group – so I could know them better and minister well. After I time, I came to see the value of pursuing a goal that seemed impossible and where I trailed my classmates from day one to graduation.

Besides the honing of my humility, God showed me that He does, indeed, call His people to do some things badly.

He commands us out of our comfortable chairs and into pursuits that don’t present us in the best light, that remind us we have much to learn, require us to depend on others, and drive us to cry out to Him for strength and persistence when ours has drained from us.

There has never been a time when this was more needed in the church than now. As the battle for souls intensifies, God is calling all hands on deck.

There are countless souls wandering the earth in darkness, blindly groping for the truth, wondering if they’ll ever find their way and feeling unloved by God, angry, hopeless, and alone. There are more people than your pastor can reach, or Beth Moore, Billy Graham, Kevin Sorbo, even KLove.

God never intended the furthering of His kingdom to be something accomplished solely by gifted professionals and applauded by amateurs who encourage from their pews. Building God’s kingdom is, in fact, a calling for oafs.

It’s a task uniquely suited for the weak, meek, stumbling, fumbling, falling, appalling, imperfect, unfinished, inept lot of us that Christ called to Himself and adopted into the family of the Most High God.

God designed this work for us outlaws who have already pled guilty, received our sentence and our pardon, and now live free – with nothing to prove and nothing to lose, so we may as well boldly, badly love those who Jesus loves in His name.

If this is how you feel about Christian ministry, about loving people different from you, or about pursuing God – brother and sister, you’ve been called to serve.

It’s been ten years since I actively practiced martial arts. I still have some moves, but it’s fair to say my karate stories are squarely in the rearview mirror.

Even meek, weak oafs for Jesus should always have new stories. It’s fine to illustrate a point with a decades old tale, but there should be more updated ones to add if we’re truly pressing into God.

God drove this home when a group of quilting ladies asked me if I had any crafting skills. The only tool they used with which I have any skill is the seam ripper. I shook my head and waved them off. No, no, these hands fly across the keyboard, but they’re bunglers with needle and thread.

Silently, I inventoried my current activities. Have I slipped back into that comfy space of only taking on what I know I can do in my own strength?

Am I only loving people I find easy to love? Am I only communicating with people I understand or who understand me? Am I only having conversations with those who agree with my perspective? Am I editing conversations, so I never enter tricky territory?

Do I function as if I believe God only ministers through me when I look strong, competent, intelligent, and secure? Am I passing on invitations from God to offer people a love that fumbles around searching for the open door because I don’t want people to think I’m inept or lacking (in other words, the truth?)?

It’s football season and it’s a well-established fact that the most winning NFL team is not always the one with the most talent. 

Winning teams function as a team. They’re staffed with players devoted to the game and to their teammates, not themselves.

They commit to leaving it all on the field and playing the entire game. Even when they lose players to injuries. Even when they fumble play after play. Even when they’re down and no one else thinks they can win. They persist. They play. They invest heart, soul, and kneecap.

This is God’s calling to us, His imperfect church.

Leave everything on the field. Pursue Him and the call to love others with every fiber of our souls.

Don’t worry about fumbles. Get up from the hard tackles and move on.

Don’t focus on the score board. Ignore the jeers from the other team. Even if you play badly, stay on the field. Do your job.

If at first you play badly, this can be overcome with hard work, diligent practice, proper coaching, and reliance on your team. And remember the game’s not over until the final call.

Karate, quilting, kicking the football, or kingdom building – pursuits that aren’t for the most talented, but for those willing to look bad and invest effort long enough to find the goal.

Why does the church love so badly? Because we’re attempting the impossible in a world where most love grows cold. Because we’re trying to love the way God loves. Because we have an enemy placing obstacles in our path at every turn. The amazing thing isn’t how badly we love – it’s that we keep trying.

Let’s get out there tomorrow (and the day after) and love others badly, serve others poorly, and worship like oafs until, by God’s grace, we fumble our way to being His light in a dark world.

Why the Church Loves So Badly https://t.co/zyCIpKcV5X maybe that’s our call #Jesus #Evangelicals #Church

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) November 18, 2017

There’s No Back Pew on the Front Lines

Just another weekend worship service.

Nothing special. Not Easter or Christmas or revival.

We ask God to open our eyes, but what if He truly answered and we could suddenly see what happens when His people gather –the spiritual reality assembled weekly in the foxhole of our churches.

Loved ones, there is no back pew on the front lines.

Some churches are seeker-friendly, motivated by love for those who have yet to know Jesus. People do arrive seeking God, so it’s good to reduce barriers and make it welcoming.

Church should be a place we encourage questions, where the lost can come as they are, as we all have, to discover Christ’s truth, forgiveness, mercy, grace, and the love that leads to repentance. Amen?

But, when the people of God meet to worship, it’s a more than a place for seekers. So much more.

On any given day of worship, church is a gathering of warriors, of poets and priests, of God-explorers, of seed-sowers and harvesters, of kingdom pioneers staking outposts of glory, of the royal family seeking face-time with their father-king.

Did you think you were just going to church? Oh no, loved ones, that’s a pale title for our rich and powerful convocation.

Warriors for Christ have spent the week in battle – some from behind closed doors, others behind prison walls or sitting with shattered families. Holding vigil hospital bedside or in shelters, on the streets, in the schools, on the mission field, or in their own backyard.

Fighting for the lost and broken, doing the work of reconciliation and mediation, sweating out the struggle to stay married, stay faithful, stay clean and sober, stay patient with small children, stay believing, stay sane.

These warriors drag their battered souls into the worship assembly parched for the Living Water, famished for the meat of a solid Word from Christ, in need of fortification, strengthening, encouragement, and a repair of their armor, as they stagger in from the front lines.

Poets and priests arrive for worship yearning for the beauty of the kingdom to be lifted up. They come craving the stained glass, the banners and candles, the harmonious melodious strains, a taste of the bread, a sip of the wine, an escape into the reality of the mystery and holiness of the Most High God.

The poets and priests long for others to share in the wonder they’ve contemplated in the week apart from the rest. They long to say Amen together with the corporate Body of Jesus Christ, our Lord. These singing souls want to hear their part in the great chorus and know the music of the spheres.

God-explorers have spent the week reading His Word and putting it into practice. They’ve been exploring what it means to love their neighbor, show hospitality, be slow to anger, pray for those who persecute, and give sacrificially with varying levels of success.

They want to hear what other explorers have tried; they want guidance, correction, and encouragement. They want to share the joy of what went well and celebrate the experience of knowing there is still more to discover even when the seekers have found the Living God.

The seed-sowers and harvesters, like hard-working farmers, are hoping for a place of quiet contemplation, of Sabbath rest, of refreshment like water from a deep spring-fed well. They want to know if others have been watching the skies and seeing the same signs.

They want to hear what others are doing to tend and protect the tender seedlings peeking through the soil or what methods are most effective for pruning an unruly vine. They aren’t showy in their worship, but are faithful and watchful week after week after patient, enduring week.

The kingdom pioneers staking outposts for glory arrive for worship with their lungs full of oxygen from beyond the veil. They need the gathering, the energy of assembly, the glory songs, and the revelation of God’s Word proclaimed.

They need prayers for their efforts on behalf of the kingdom and confirmation of new territory they’ve noticed where God’s Kingdom needs to come. They need to inventory the crowd and number those still missing. They need the touch-base with the seed-sowers and harvesters, so their feet continue

to touch the ground as they reach their holy hands to the sky.

And the crowd needs them because without their vision, we perish.

And all of us, royal-family, children of the High King, who have spent the week knocking our crowns ask e w, our robes dusty from our common walk, and our manners affected by negative feedback and pressure from those raised outside the kingdom walls, need our memories revived.

We need to hear the story of our adoption through Christ into the family of the High King. We need the reminder of how a royal child conducts him or herself even when away from the family. We need to wash our hands and feet in the basin of the servant Christ and remember who we are.

We need a refresher of the hope of home, the truth of what awaits us when Jesus returns, and we gather at the royal table and step into the realization of our restored glory, of the day when our story is no longer by faith alone but by everlasting sight. We need a weekly family reunion and a reminder of our family name.

So, let us be seeker-friendly but let worship also be warrior welcoming, poet and priest inspiring, God-explorer affirming, seed-sower and harvester refreshing, kingdom pioneering outposts of glory grounding, and children of the king restorative and re-visioning.

This kind of worship is organic, living, and occurs when the Body of Christ exercises faith in the power of congress-ing in the presence of the Living God knowing who we are in Christ.

That service isn’t some common event known as church. No.

The act of worship is a fist raised against the brutal foul forces at work in this world. It’s a flare sent up from the outpost.

It’s a campf ire set in the wilderness. It’s a well in the desert. It’s a family reunion. It’s a vision summit.

It’s the bread and the win e and the blood and the risen Christ, our Head, infusing His Spirit throughout the entire body making what has been dispersed over the days one.

We do not have to wait for our church leaders to create this kind of worship or for our fellow worshipers to “get it.” This worship doesn’t come in a workshop, a weekend, or a movement. This worship is the reality of what occurs, and we just need God to open our eyes to it this week.

So, cry out, loved ones. Open our eyes, Lord. Let us see this gathering as You see it.

Let us know the power of our own corporate gathering in Your presence.

We remember now. We are not church-goers. We are warriors, poets, priests, God-explorers, seed-sowers, harvesters, pioneers in outposts of glory, and children of the most High King. And this is as true on every regular, ordinary day of worship as it is on Easter and revival week.

You see it now, too, don’t you? Take heart, loved ones, it’s almost time to gather again. Brace your soul to worship.

There’s No Back Pew on the Front Lines https://t.co/xXlmWK0tEC what really happens when Christians worship? You have no idea! #Jesus #worshiprevolution #Church

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) November 9, 2017

On the Day They Shoot Me Down in My Pew

Don’t make speeches on the day they shoot me down in my pew, voice raised in praise to the One True God.

Shun the microphones, cameras, and interviews, loved ones, it’s a carnival show.

Refuse to listen to the talking heads, politicians, haters, and those with ready answers. They are only now realizing we’re at battle, and you and I know the weapons of our warfare are not of this world.

Don’t change your Facebook photo with a map of my town the day a stranger I’ve invited to Bible study kills me where I sit as we pray.

Boycott talk radio, social media, and memes. Don’t watch the hours of speculation and public grief.

Close your eyes to my weeping neighbors offering quotes and concern. Pray that my life had an impact on them beyond these fifteen minutes of fame and that any seeds planted in their hearts bear fruit for the gospel of Christ despite (or in the wake of) my passing.

On the day the sanctuary where I worship the Living God is violated by a gunman intent on his own ways, I would rather, my loved ones, you don’t skip a beat.

Be about the work, I know you are about, the work of being light in a dark world, for we are not surprised that trouble has come. I am now safe, and trouble will have another day.

Do what I know you do. Kneel in prayer before the sun rises. Read God’s Word and listen for His Spirit. Put His Word into action in your home, ministry, workplace, or on some foreign soil.

Raise your children. Raise other people’s children. Save those who are abandoned or trafficked or abused. Educate the young. Challenge the older. Treasure the very old.

Heal the sick. Search for the wanderers. Love your spouse. Honor your parents. Serve your community. Serve a community uncomfortable for you to serve. Abandon hate and do the work of reconciliation.

Worship God with your thoughts, words, actions, and resources. Create. Have hard conversations. Encourage. And above all, forgive, and persist in love.

If you add anything to your day, days already filled with the work God has put before you as you follow Him in faith,

if you add anything that day – pray for our young men. Check in with one you know. Get to know one you don’t. Support a ministry reaching this struggling, searching, agonizing generation.

If they reject you, pray and redouble your efforts. Try again. These young men are worth our love and every attempt to reach them in the moments of their pain and anger and sorrow.

And then, on the day I am shot down in God’s house in my hometown, I want you to gather in yours.

Turn up the lights, throw open the windows and doors.

Let the enemy know that where one is fallen more will rise. Where one light is sent on to glory, another will be set aglow.

Where one heart that beats for Christ now sees Him face-to-face, another will begin to beat for Him anew.

For our God can raise armies from dry bones, and He can further His kingdom amid flying bullets, empty words, and angry young men.

We are children of the God who is love. We will continue to love, even under fire.

(We love you, pray for you, and weep with you, Sutherland Springs. May you feel the presence of Jesus in your sorrow.)

On the Day They Shoot Me Down in My Pew https://t.co/8XBEa41F11 #prayersforsutherlandsprings #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) November 5, 2017

A Second Slice of Lie Pie

When we’re watching what we eat, most of us decline a second piece of pie.

When the first slice is offered, we accept, but just a sliver, you know, so as not to insult our host or hostess. We consume for the cook’s comfort, not our own, of course.

But a second piece, well now, of course we decline. A display of self-control we don’t actually own.

Because, every time we enter the kitchen, we take maybe just a nibble. It’s pretty appealing pie, after all. Designed to entice. By the second day, there is decidedly more missing than if we’d simply committed to a second piece.

Truth is, we can consume an entire pie one nibble at a time.

Likewise, as we navigate each day, we know enough, as followers of the truth, to decline even a first slice of lie pie, no matter how delectable the presentation.

But, our enemy knows if he leaves it within reach, if he confronts us at every turn with his offering, if lie pies stands are

set up on every corner and hawked on every air wave,

 

we’ll likely nibble until we’ve consumed entire slices of deception. In the belly of our souls, it won’t sit well, and we’ll need a remedy.

There are times, when we’ve progressed from crisis to crisis full tilt, that we need to recalibrate our souls with hefty doses of truth. Bible in hand and coffee at the ready, we sit in the white space of early morning and remember what is true.

 

This morning, my stomach in knots from too many nibbles, I applied this remedy to my own soul. These are truths that reset my spirit. Perhaps they will speak to yours:

God is my comfort, for He is the God of all comfort. I turn to Him for consolation (not food, nor drink, nor complaining, nor inward turning, nor spending, nor Netflix numbing). I wait for His reward, rather than rely on rewards of my own creation.

God will provide all my needs because He is Jehovah Jireh. I do not need to worry, grasp, grab, or strive. I can live with an open hand and a generous heart, because He is my shepherd and I shall not want.

God will protect and defend me. I will not rely on armor of my own design – not anger, fear, depression, distance, irritability, manipulation, or revenge. I am His child and He is my Deliverer, in Him will I trust and, so I will rest from my anxious thoughts and twitching soul.

God won’t lose sight of me because He is the God who sees. If I feel forgotten, unseen, set aside, ignored – my feelings lie, not my Bible, and I must remind them of the truth. I follow El Roi and none of my ways, needs, thoughts, or activities escape His attention or care.

God was, is, and is to come, so I will not fear the future for He is already there. Nor will I regret the past, as He is able and willing to redeem me, despite my transgressions, and to heal and renew me following the transgressions of others.

He designed me for now – placed me in these times and in this location. It’s a waste of spirit, focus, and inner resources to try to renovate the past or manipulate tomorrow. I have followed My Father here and I am present with Him. He is also in tomorrow and will prepare a place for me in that day.

God is my Father, Redeemer, and Friend, so I will live as one who is loved, free, and included. I will be content, generous, humble, creative, intentional, joyful, gentle, forgiving, patient, loving, and attentive.

I will be transparent and available to my Father and to those He places in my path to love. Because I belong to Jesus, I have nothing to lose and nothing to prove.

I will feast on truth and decline even a nibble of the lie pies Satan’s willing to deliver to every door, all of us only one click away from total deception. There’s zero nutritive value anyway, and they leave a nasty aftertaste.

My palate is supernaturally attuned to eternal truth, my appetite cultivated for the bread and wine that is Jesus, my heart turns toward truth like a grape seeks the sun on the vine.

A Second Slice of Lie Pie https://t.co/usZ0nNLTAT overcoming evil with good #Jesus #deception #truth

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 29, 2017

A Christian By Any Other Name . . .

What’s in a name?

Apparently, a lot, according to those of us who follow Jesus!

We clearly attribute much to what we’re called. “Christian” isn’t doing it anymore, so we twist ourselves into linguistic pretzels coming up with labels that don’t have negative connotations for anyone and that adequately describe who we are as new creations.

“Christian” used to do it. It distinguished us from followers of Mohammed or from those who practice Judaism or Buddhists. But, for some, that feels like a broad generic label that covers so much, it says too little. Two people who identify as Christians can meet and five minutes in — find they have very little in common – sometimes not even Jesus!

Denominational labels used to help, but there are so many ways to divide and we’re all looking for points of agreement, so they are limited in their usefulness. Some of us come up with blends like “baptigelicostal,” to explain our various leanings and inclusions. We’re trying, right? We’re trying.

Modifiers assist, until they don’t. Progressive, liberal, inclusive, conservative, fundamental, mainline, independent, evangelical. Maybe they helped at one time, but now they’ve become politicized, popularized, demonized, inflated, divisive, more walls than windows. Plus, the moment we utter them, we expand by defining them, and by then, our listener has moved on and barely has energy left to hear about Jesus.

Ugh.

We try to get back to our root – which is why we have “radical” Christians, biblical Christians, people of the Way, or simply Jesus-followers. Strip it down. Go back to go forward. Keep it simple, right? There’s something to this. We’re trying, right? We’re trying.

We’re trying, which is fine, as long as we’re not denying, that a Christian by any other name is still, by new nature, not at home in the world, unwelcome, a trespasser, a sojourner, a citizen of a city yet to come, offensive to those opposed to truth, an enemy – even – of those sold out to the enemy of our Father.

And yes, we love all – those who persecute us, those who hate us, those who call us enemy – and we seek to build bridges, open doors and hearts, get ourselves out of the way of the gospel, represent the One who is Love – but we will, by virtue of our affiliation with Christ – be rejected by many – even if we devise the perfect name.

A name is not nothing. God names His creations. He passed this love of naming on to Adam. Jesus renamed those He loved. And when we are home, He will tell us all our true names and we will sigh and say, “Yes, that’s exactly the word my soul was searching to find.”

Until then, it’s an imperfect science, and endless art, this pursuit of our name. Perhaps it’s like trying to say something in a foreign tongue that has no equivalent in that language. A phrase that is perfect in Swahili, but loses something in the translation to English. Perhaps that’s why we struggle.

When our hearts take the turn from dancing with the piper of this world to following in the footsteps of Jesus, we become citizens of a realm whose tongue we will spend a lifetime (and beyond) learning to speak. When we try to speak into this world exactly who we are and what we’ve become, there are no words equal to the task.

But, we’re trying, right? We follow Jesus. We are a peculiar people. We live by His Word. We are a royal priesthood. Chosen. Holy. Sons and daughters of the Most High God. Sacred servants. Friends of God. Alive who were once dead. Free who were once enslaved.

Names are important, but more important is who we are, who are lives reveal us to be, and what they reveal about Jesus.

If we are alive to Him, walking in His ways, will others not say, “I don’t care what you’re called, I’m drawn to your life and want to know what you know.” And will we not answer, “It’s not a what, it’s a who – His name is Jesus, and that’s the only name you really need to know.”

Who are we? Forget the labels. Let us say only

I am loved by God.

I am freed by truth.

I am Redeemed.

What are you calling yourself, these days? I’d love to know.

A Christian By Any Other Name . . . https://t.co/r25SPs37kl What are you called? #Jesus #Christian

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 25, 2017

Miserable Comforters All!

Comfort food.

The headlines and photos stare at in me the market. ‘Tis the season in New England, for breads, soups, cheese, and pie. We set in our stores and hunker down for the winds of winter are about to blow.

Creatures of comfort,

aren’t we all, here in the west? Other places, as well, but I only write what I know. We dress for comfort, prefer comfortable chairs, quilts and soft bedding, warm sweaters, and hot coffee. There are industries who know the way to build their customer base is to offer us comfort. We bite every time.

Comfortable friends.

This is how we choose, is it not? Who will breach our inner circle and gain our most heart-felt trust. Those with whom we feel most comfortable and at ease. People with whom we can “just be ourselves” unfiltered.

We are experts at comfort. We seek it for ourselves and we desire it for others. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.” “It’s important for visitors to be completely comfortable.” “We’ve designed these pews for comfort.”

And I’m just like this, hobbit that I am. Putting in my store of comfortable shoes, pillows, and friends.

But, recently, I heard a speaker teach on Jesus in the desert. She remarked that the evil one tempted our hungry Lord to provide His own comfort by turning stones into bread. And this was entirely in Jesus’ power, but Jesus chose, instead, to wait for the comfort of the Lord.

And, I thought about the things to which I turn for comfort – food, drink, my own abilities, influential friends and connections, the job/church/town/people I know who are like me, money in the bank – and I wondered.

Am I so quick to self-sooth, I miss out on the comfort God wants to provide?

His comfort may not initially appeal, and I may not even recognize it as comfort, but still, wouldn’t it be better to receive what I need from the God of all Comforts than from my own design?

There was nothing wrong with bread. It’s not wrong to eat when we’re hungry. Nor is it wrong to use our God-given abilities to provide. But, in the desert, Jesus learned to wait on His Father and to rely completely on Him. And isn’t our story all about learning to live like He lived?

How will Jesus-followers comfort others with the comfort we’ve received from Christ, if we continually provide our own comfort?

This is no small concern. We’re in times when anxiety and fear are high. I hear it in the conversations around me every day. People are distressed and seeking comfort.

What will we offer them? A comfort we’ve devised? How unloving to offer them less than something directly from our Source!

And, if we continually seek comfort, what will we do when our comfort collides with His commands? It’s uncomfortable to cultivate friendships with people with whom we are NOT initially comfortable (or ever!)

It’s uncomfortable to speak unpopular truths.

It’s uncomfortable to miss our favorite television shows or pass on the latest best-seller so we can research what God’s Word says so we can speak intelligently about it with a friend who is disheartened or straying or experiencing grief.

It’s uncomfortable to visit hospital rooms or addiction treatment centers. It’s uncomfortable to sit beside an inconsolable friend in grief. It’s uncomfortable to help clean the house of a hoarder.

It’s uncomfortable to remain calm in the face of a teen’s wrath to show them they won’t scare you away. It’s uncomfortable to listen to someone who has been wounded by the church.

It’s uncomfortable to make others uncomfortable by refusing to go along with status quo, to play the game. Trouble-makers foster discomfort, and we are entering times where just living biblically will make us radicals, disrupters, and revolutionaries.

Are we ready to abandon the comforts of our own devices to wait for the comfort of the Lord?

And if warm bread, hot coffee, influential connections, and soft beds that comfort for the moment, but then are gone appeal – imagine what the comforts of the God of all Comfort will do for the eternal soul?

Imagine facing a hurting, frightened, confused people seeking comfort, you with no visible source of comfort assuring them that God is sufficient, and abundantly so! A moment when even our emptiness testifies to God’s riches and strength.

His presence as we engage to build relationships with people unlike us,

as we minister through disasters and threats of war,

as we work to build bridges across the great divide of souls,

as we stand with no ability to self-sooth, but completely reliant on Him –

His presence will fill our lives, our relationships, and our stories, so that never again will we settle for bread of our own making

But only the Bread of Heaven.

Where are we seeking comfort, loved ones? What if we delayed just long enough to ask God what He might provide instead?

Will be represent Jesus, or like Job’s friends, be just “miserable comforters all?” It’s important we each answer that question.

What comfort can we offer in these times? Are we offering the best? #Jesus #comfort #hardtimes
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Sisyphus Goes to Lunch

Why is it that we can know absolutely we’re not the only one who feels a thing, and yet when we do feel it, it isolates us from others?

There are days (okay, almost every one) where my life feels like an endless middle school lunchroom and I can’t find a seat.

The thing I want you to know about me is that I really try.

That’s what I used to tell my art teacher whenever he looked at my project, shook his head, and asked if I’d understood the instructions. I did. That’s the sad part! I did understand the goal, and yet looking at my work, you’d think I was in the restroom when it was assigned.

When I’m tired, the evil one convinces me that’s how God will see my life. The accuser whispers to me in every room I enter that no one has saved me a seat, I’ll never find my place, and I’ll likely wander endlessly – doomed to carry my tray from table to table. Sisyphus goes to lunch.

Which is why I sat in my car weeping earlier this week as I listened to Matthew West’s worship song tell me there’s a place at our Father’s table waiting for me.

Are there words more beautiful than that? I have a place at the table. Jesus has gone ahead to prepare a place for me.

He’s already seen my life. I’m the only one surprised by its shortcomings. I’m the only one dismayed when my results don’t match my aspirations. Jesus has changed the matrix by which my life and heart are measured, so I have nothing to fear.

He saves me a seat.

When we follow Jesus, we have this promise.  “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” Revelation 3:20

Great and small, on some level, we’re all wandering around, holding our trays, trying to find a seat at a table where we’ll be welcome. He has one saved for you, loved one.

Live like someone who knows they have an invitation and reserved seat. Live like someone who breaks bread with God.

Sisyphus Goes to Lunch https://t.co/R8Op3yZ75y #seatatthetable #Jesus Will anyone save a seat for me?

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 13, 2017

And Now Thou Shalt Shutteth Thy Mouth

Every generation has its challenges. Ours doesn’t know when to shut up.

I could be my generation’s poster girl for this. No one has ever had to encourage me to expand my thoughts on a topic.

Want to be the “voice of our generation?” Good luck trying to be heard. We emerged from the womb expressing opinions and then, invented ways we can continue speaking from beyond the grave.

So the challenge for us is to clam up when clamming up is what it takes.

I never thought I’d say this, but talking doesn’t solve everything.

My father’s generation has taken criticism (and often rightly so) for being unwilling to talk, express their feelings verbally, or engage in constructive dialog.

All that is good, but somewhere along the line, we started to believe that everything could be solved if we just talked long enough, loud enough, and to the right people.

 

Not so.

There’s a time for everything under the sun. A time to speak and a time to refrain from speaking.

 

Sometimes when life is hard and a person is in deep distress, talking about it every moment only adds to the weight of it.  Silence can create a sanctuary in a clanging world. Silence can be just the wedge God uses to open stuck doors.

When God led the children of Israel out of Egypt they stood on the banks of the impassable Red Sea and turned around to find Pharaoh’s army gaining on them from behind.

Imagine the sound of thousands of Israelites crying out to Moses, “Have you brought us out into the desert to die?” This was a major freak out moment for God’s people.

Moses then speaks saying, “Everybody get a grip! Pipe down a minute!”

Okay, that’s my paraphrase.

The actual verse in Exodus 14:13-14 reads, “And Moses said to the people, “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”

And, because our generation invented amazing special effects, you can readily imagine what happened next as God parted the Red Sea, allowing the impossible – the Israelites cross on foot. The Egyptian army follows suit, the sea closes back around them and the people are saved.

Not by words, but by the power of the Living God.

Sometimes we need to speak up, express ourselves, talk things out. Sometimes words are the answer.

But once in a while, we need to stand firm, close our mouths, stand back, and watch God move – in silence.

And Now Thou Shalt Shutteth They Mouth https://t.co/zrpCMqDgWV a time to be silent #powerofsilence #Jesus #refrainfromspeaking

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 8, 2017