Lori Stanley Roeleveld's Blog, page 49

The Danger of Settling for Answers (or why seekers fail to find satisfaction)

This generation worships the seeker.

We elevate those on a spiritual quest, the perpetual walkabout traveler, the dreamer whose dreams lead to more dreams. We romanticize the restless wanderer willing to travel endlessly in search of ever-elusive answers. Like Jack Kerouac, we want a spirituality that lives on the road. We believe God is a hobo and think we’re more likely to encounter him in a freight car or under a bridge than in a building designed to house Him for an hour a week.

Oddly enough, while we love questions, we’re suspicious of answers. Answers look like spiritual SUV’s, designed for people who settle, not for those yearning to travel light. Maybe we haven’t found the right answers or maybe, if we never find the answers, we can always believe that we’ll like them when we do.

Churches have worked to become “seeker friendly.” At the heart of this effort is a love for those who have yet to choose to follow Jesus, a true desire to reflect God’s nature, and sincere submission to the theology of hospitality. And yet, too often, we botch things up once they’ve crossed the threshold. We stuff them with the spiritual equivalent of Mc-answers and nurse our frustration when no one ends up saved or satisfied.

Book publishing, too, has apparently fallen in love with the seeker. What better audience for endless books than those on a perpetual search for answers? This is a line sure to thrive. So, maybe it isn’t love so much as an attraction to a perpetual market that will continue to grow as long as the answers are always a carrot stick away and clouded with incense.

An article in Huffpost Religion says, “This fall, HarperOne, the San Francisco-based imprint of HarperCollins, launched HarperElixir, a line of books specifically targeting people who seek the answers to life’s big questions. ‘The audience is the modern seeker… people who are spiritual and magical and passionate and curious and they want to answer the call to go deeper,’ said Claudia Boutote, senior vice president and publisher of Harper Elixir.” *

That sounds cool, doesn’t it? Who wouldn’t want to be people who are spiritual, magical, passionate, curious and answering the call to go deeper? Still, it begs the question of what a seeker becomes once the answers are found. What then, o curious heart? Is the journey over? What’s the name for what you are now?

Here’s what I think. Answers aren’t sufficient treasure for the yearning quest of the human heart. Not like we think they’ll be. Answers aren’t enough for anyone. They aren’t enough for me. When I’m asking spiritual questions, it feels as though answers are what I want, but then when I get them, I want more. Answers doesn’t scratch the itch that sparked the questions.

Turns out, the itch is our hard-wired desire for God. Questions are just sparkplugs in the engine that drives us toward Him or away. True answers come from God but they still aren’t the end of our journey. If we settle for answers, we stall and to stall is just one letter off from stale. He designed us to be on an endless journey but it’s one of exploration, not answer-seeking. Seek answers and that’s all you’ll find. Seek God and your soul will be set ablaze traversing the glorious mystery of the Almighty.

There is an ancient text I believe speaks to the nature of our generation. It was written by a wildly spiritual soul, Haggai, and is contained in one of sixty-six revered scrolls known as the Holy Bible. “Now, therefore, thus says the Lord of hosts: Consider your ways. You have sown much, and harvested little. You eat, but you never have enough; you drink, but you never have your fill. You clothe yourselves, but no one is warm. And he who earns wages does so to put them into a bag with holes.” Haggai 1:5-6

Too often, the seeker-friendly church effort fails because the church acts like a religious version of NASA. “Do you love the idea of exploring outerspace? Join NASA,” they say. “Oh, we don’t go there anymore but you can help curate the museum to our past efforts.” Hearing this, true space seekers march right out of NASA’s offices and sign up with fringe science billionaires making promises that they still intend to pursue space’s mysteries.

Likewise, when seekers arrive at church with their passionate, churning, magic-seeking curiosity and are handed a can full of answers from people who have long since lost their sense of wonder at an awesome God, it’s no curiosity that they head to the local bookstore for the latest release from Harper Elixir.

The remedy is that none of us settle for answers but we all continue seeking to go ever deeper with God. Abraham didn’t spend his lifetime exploring answers; He spent it exploring the mystery of the El Shaddai who called him away from everything he knew to follow Him.

Of course, there are answers. There are absolutes. There are sound doctrines and acceptable life practices that align us with God. Those sixty-six ancient texts are God-breathed and we do well to study them every day. And Jesus, Jesus is the answer but He’s not an answer that kills our search. He is an answer that opens a doorway to an endless exploration of an infinite mystery – our relationship with an eternal Creator God.

No one should settle for a religion that looks like a soccer mom’s SUV loaded with pre-packaged answers to stale questions. Like chips, your soul can munch on these forever and remain famished.

God led Abraham away from everything he knew and took him to a land inhabited by violent tribes. He told Abraham this land would be his inheritance – this famine-ridden land full of hostile men with evil practices. So, sure, that was an answer for Abraham, “here’s your land,” but the answer contained a mystery that kept him leaning into God. Then, God brought him out under the vast, starry night and promised the old man he would have a son of his own though his wife was long past childbearing years. This was an answer that also contained a mystery that kept Abraham leaning into God.

We weren’t designed to be satisfied with answers. We were designed to only find satisfaction in our creator, to explore His endless mystery forever like a universe of galaxies and stars beyond our imagining.

Have you lost your sense of wonder? Have you missed the adventure of Jesus Christ? Perhaps you’ve settled for answers and that’s what’s causing that stale, hollow feeling in your soul. Seeking only answers leads to a thousand experiences that all leave you feeling as if you’ve been there before.

Seeking Jesus leads you ever deeper into the wondrous mystery of God where there are colors, angles, and aspects of love only the soul seeking Jesus can see. Do you really love the seeker? Don’t give her answers. Show her, by your life, the adventure of seeking Him. Lead her to Jesus and she’ll begin a quest of eternal satisfaction.

**If you’re following along with my wild goose chase, you’ll find the notes on week two’s Bible readings by clicking HERE.

The Danger of Settling for Answers (or why seekers fail to find satisfaction) https://t.co/h6nkfVLSPU #amwriting #seekingfaith #seekers

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) January 12, 2016

*Antonia Blumberg, How Seeker Spirituality Is Shaping The World Of Publishing, 12/28/2015, The Huffington Post, Huffpost Religion.

The Secret to Saving Tinkerbell

You know how to keep Tinkerbell alive, don’t you?

Fairies die if people don’t believe in them so you must believe or “poof.” A crowd can revive a fairy, if you get them to clap for her and say they believe. The bigger the crowd, the faster she revives.

Jesus has nothing in common with Tinkerbell. He exists, full of power, unchanged, sovereign, strong to deliver, loving, full of mercy, entirely holy, Son of God whether my beliefs waver or not.

Phew, right? Who needs a god who relies on what I bring to the party for his own life? Especially when my level of belief can be affected by a stray remark from a coworker, a scary headline, or a rough patch of life.

So many of our idols work like Tinkerbell. They need adoring crowds, multitudes, and our constant attendance in order to pay off. False gods and slot machines have a relentless appetite for our quarters. That’s not how Jesus operates. He isn’t powered by our praise, nor is He deflated by our lapses.

Jesus is.

Abraham wavered. This isn’t my judgement of Abraham because I totally get it. He was afraid for his life in Egypt. In that moment, his faith in God’s willingness or ability to protect him faltered in the face of the world-powerful Pharaoh and his army. So, he told a half-lie. His beautiful wife was only his sister. No need to hurt him to get to her. No, in fact, treat him well, as her brother.

Abraham (Abram still) failed both God and Sarai, but God remained strong and on His throne, which was above Pharaoh’s. He sent a plague on Pharaoh’s house that rattled enough cages to shake loose the truth. Sarai returned to husband and they were sent packing.

Where do you go when you’ve panicked, floundered, strayed from the faith that set you straight in the first place? You return to the first place. Which is what Abram does. I imagine it was a long silent trip while Sarai let God do the talking as the caravan made its way back to the place where Abram believed God’s promise to him. Too often, when we falter, others pay the price with us. Most of us have had at least one long, sobering sojourn back to the place of believing accompanied by silent victims recovering from the pain of our panicked choices.

There are long times of waiting between God’s promises and their realization. Long, dry, desert moments where bills need to be paid, nights are lonely, and other options to God’s way pop up like – well – like Internet pop ups. Faith can waver. God never does.

That’s our story, isn’t it? Not that we’ve never faltered. Not that we’ve never failed. But, that we follow a God whose name is Faithful and True. A God whose commitment to us never wavers or fails. His light never dims the way Tinkerbell’s does but then, He’s no fairy and our faith is no fairy tale.

This is always what we need to teach and proclaim to others – best not to sin, but when we do, God remains true and provides a way back if we acknowledge our sin. This is the long pole we carry across the high wire of faith – “best not to sin” on the one side and “He has provided a way of forgiveness” on the other.

Abram returned to that altar a changed man. A man who remembered that he served a God who provides. So, when he and his nephew come to splitting up their land, Abram displays his trust in God by letting Lot choose first. Faith, now, in God’s willingness and ability to protect his interests.

That’s God’s story with us. We falter but we can learn from our mistakes. We can grow. We can change. The same man who quaked in the halls of a Pharaoh will soon ride out against an army of kings and prevail. He’ll turn over a tenth of the spoils without hesitation. He’ll build another altar one day and lay on it his son.

So, you’ve had a lapse of faith. Welcome to this place we call “the church.” You’ll fit right in. Go back to the place you first believed. God’s not like Tinkerbell. He never missed a beat, even when you did. Jesus just always is.

The secret to saving Tinkerbell is to always travel with the crowds. This is the only way a Tinkerbell faith will survive. But the one who follows Jesus follows a God strong enough to help us stand, even when we walk alone.

The Secret to Saving Tinkerbell https://t.co/kaDHF6tiAu what follows a crisis of faith #amwriting #fairytale #Faith

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) January 8, 2016

Chasing the Wrong Goose

Sometimes I am all wet.

I’ve always been skittish around boats and water. I’m not a confident swimmer so that contributes to my nerves. I’ve also always felt awkward and clumsy unlike more graceful, petite friends, so the resulting self-consciousness makes me a serious water hazard.

You’ve seen me, or someone like me, trying to board a boat. We take one hesitant step onto the deck while trying to keep the other foot planted firmly on the dock. The split followed by the splash is as ugly as it is predictable. In these situations, there aren’t points for trying. One must commit either to the ship or to the dock. Indecision winds us up in the drink.

So, it is with matters of faith. What shipwrecks us is not our beliefs nor our failures to believe but almost always, it’s our near-beliefs that leave us all wet. Which is why I’m embarking on a wild goose chase.

In writing my newest book, Jesus and the Beanstalk (releasing September 2016), I used the first half of the Jack and the Beanstalk story to talk about the spiritual growth described in 2 Peter 1:1-10. I believe Jesus is the vine (Jack’s beanstalk) and that by climbing the vine, we, like Jack, learned to topple the giants in our lives.

Since completing the book, I’ve been thinking about how easy it was for Jack to become distracted by the giant’s wealth. How tempting it was for him to become like the giant by stealing the goose that laid the golden eggs and eventually sacrificing the vine for the gold.

How easily am I tempted to see Jesus as a means to an end – not the vine to which I cling but the stalk I climb to achieve a measure of greatness in this world! How often as I cling to my vine do I watch the giants of this world with envy, wanting to topple them, not only so they can be defeated, but secretly so I can take their place?

The early Christians in Celtic lands referred to the Holy Spirit as the Wild Goose. I’ve come to see that too often, I find myself chasing the wrong goose.

I struggle with near-beliefs about money and God’s provision. I nearly believe God will provide all I need. I nearly believe one can only serve God or mammon. I nearly believe God, who did not withhold His only Son, will withhold no good thing. I nearly believe I am not to worry about tomorrow – what I should eat or drink. I nearly believe God is my portion but then – something shiny catches my eye and I’m off running and it takes me too long to notice the absence of the only Goose worth following.

I know the scriptures about worldly riches and I love God but sometimes I find myself loving the security and comforts the world has to offer, too. Not mansions or yachts but basics like electricity and working cars. I’ve learned one doesn’t have to have a lot of money to become a lover of money. I understand George Bailey in “It’s a Wonderful Life” when he encounters Clarence the angel, sent to help him, for the first time:

“George Bailey: I know one way you can help me. You don’t happen to have 8,000 bucks on you?

Clarence: No, we don’t use money in Heaven.

George Bailey: Well, it comes in real handy down here, bud!”

When I realized my struggle anew, I started searching for scriptures on money but the Lord took me in a different direction. You see, He knows my heart. In seeking the scriptures for directions on how to relate to money, I was doing it hoping to secure money. I was climbing the vine in order to attain the golden goose. (Now, others who search the scriptures about money have better motives, I’m sure, but I did not.) Of course, I want to honor God but at the end of my obedience, too often I’m hoping there’s a pot of gold. In focusing on the world, sometimes I forget that Jesus isn’t a leprechaun there to grant my wishes. He is the gold.

What I suspect is that all of scripture speaks to this struggle with chasing the wrong goose. It’s not about money, really, it’s about whether or not I trust God to provide and if I will be satisfied with what He provides. It’s whether I’m seeking Him and killing giants for His glory or if I’m trying to use Him to defeat the giants so I can take their place in this world. (I wonder if others struggle with this, too?)

In watching the current political debates, we see one candidate who exhibits a sense of great freedom and security because of his great wealth. God’s Word says we are free in Jesus. We are secure in Christ. Too often we imagine that in following Christ, He will lead us to the earthly tools we need for freedom and security when in fact, we already have it in Him. We just need to keep our eyes on the right Goose.

My plan is to read scripture, beginning in Genesis, and ask in each chapter what God is saying, revealing, teaching about why we must commit to either the deck of His ship or the dock of this world’s wealth. How even in poverty and financial want, we have all we need in Jesus. How even if we are enslaved and oppressed in this world, we are free in Jesus.

I’m sure there will be blog posts coming from my chase but if you’re interested in following along, I invite you inside my process. I’m taking notes as I do my reading and praying and I’ll post these notes HERE. Click if you’re interested and comment if you will. I’m being transparent here and hope you’ll respect that. I invite you to a conversation about what God says regarding our pursuit of Him verses a pursuit of what the world says is important to obtain. I’m not so much seeking to teach as to learn.

How about you? Do you sometimes end up in the drink because of a “near-belief?” Do you sometimes find yourself chasing the wrong goose? Join me this year as I go on my wild goose chase and seek the freedom that is only found in Christ.

Are you chasing the wrong goose? https://t.co/gNo6SxBgSX join me in a wild goose chase, won't you? #amwriting #amfollowingJesus #Money

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) January 5, 2016

Forget About the New Year – That’s Not the Main Story for 2016

[image error]Too often we are solely fascinated by the new . . . new year, new leaf, new resolution. Our inner perfectionist loves the unmarked journal, the unblemished calendar, the pristine white of the first snow.

We’re drawn to the new because, much as a recent amputee senses a phantom limb, we imagine that through the new, we can somehow recover the selves we lost in the garden. Every new baby evokes a phantom hope that perhaps this one will not choose to eat from the forbidden tree.

And yet, what we see as perfect in this world is a shadow of the perfection to come. Much of what we hold as perfect is an illusion, a false hope that of ourselves, we can achieve something flawless. We are like an endless line of beach walkers, seeking the whitest stone on the shore. As we walk there is always another whiter, and another, and another.

God is not so in love with perfectionism. The God of all truth has no delusions. He is perfect, yes, but He is not enamored of perfect materials. He loves, instead, the work of reclamation, of restoration, of redemption.

I never imagine God in a white suit sitting in a glass office. To me, He’s more the overalls type, strolling thoughtfully in work boots between rows of discarded, rejected, broken human souls, smiling at the thought of their redeemed promise. He loves to pull us back from the brink, to uncover our hidden beauty, to surprise us with our unforeseen purpose and place.

Growing up in the sixties and seventies, I was unpopular and rejected. I was the antithesis of cool. In the age of Aquarius, I was so square, I was a cube. But where I spent Sunday nights, I was welcome, I belonged, I was home. In the basement of the First Baptist Church of Hope Valley, we gathered, a motley crew, around a piano and we sang hymns. We’d take prayer requests, of course, and the pastor would share “a word,” but being Sunday night and him weary from the morning service, it wouldn’t be long or overly convicting. The event, the happening, the gathering was about connecting with God through great hymns.

We were not the cream of the musical crop – or of any crop if we’re being honest. Melva was a socially awkward woman who lived alone and so, in a differently awkward way, was the spinster teacher with the cat glasses and stern face. The pianist would change tempo randomly throughout a single hymn and the pastor was young and untested so his sermons were like a new cook’s first attempts at soufflé. There were some married couples and me and there was Fred Bailey, an older man with only one arm (having lost his as a youth, I think).

There was little in my life that was predictable in those days but every Sunday night, I knew for certain, that I’d be welcome at the First Baptist Church basement hymn sing.

I also knew for sure that as soon as the pastor asked for requests, Fred Bailey would call out “Hymn #333, Blessed Assurance, all three verses, please.” He’d wink at me and we’d rise from our cold metal chairs and blast out the song as if it took volume to reach the heart of God. If we were lagging in enthusiasm, Mr. Bailey would request we sing the chorus again, “with gusto.” This is my story, this is my song, praising my Savior all the day long; this is my story, this is my song, praising my Savior all the day long. And in the singing of that song over and over, it did become my story. As we sang, I claimed my story and allowed no one else – no rejecter, no scornful boy, no hateful girl, no twisted adult to tell me what my story was about. My story is about Jesus.

It seems such a simple thing, gathering for hymns, singing the same one again and again. You wouldn’t think God would use it to teach me solid theology or lay a strong, secure foundation of faith or settle me down when I was at risk of losing my place in this world. But, He did.

Fanny Crosby, who wrote that hymn, was imperfect and had an imperfect life. She was blind from infancy and lost her father before her first birthday. She was, however, a prolific hymn writer, penning over 8000 songs! Fanny once said, “It seemed intended by the blessed providence of God that I should be blind all my life, and I thank him for the dispensation. If perfect earthly sight were offered me tomorrow, I would not accept it. I might not have sung hymns to the praise of God if I had been distracted by the beautiful and interesting things about me.” Like her, I have to say, if God offered me the chance to relive my childhood perfectly free from turmoil and without rejection, I would say, “No. It has been far better to watch You work. Far better the trouble opened my eyes to Jesus.”

We are imperfect souls and we inhabit a world of imperfection. It isn’t perfection we should seek but Jesus, only Jesus. And we should pray our overall-ed God would choose us from among the ruined spirits and do His redemptive, restorative, reclaiming work so that all would see Him.

Whatever else I become in this life, there will always be a part of me standing in the coolness of that church basement that smelled of coffee and Play-doh, beside a one-armed old man singing Hymn #333, Blessed Assurance, all three verses, with gusto. We were an imperfect lot but, oh, the redemptive work Jesus did in our midst! That is a story I will tell until we are all home and long after.

In the year to come, don’t seek perfection, don’t even give it a thought. Instead, seek Jesus, and watch a Master restorer do a miraculous work in your soul.

Forget about the new year – that's not the main story of 2016! https://t.co/jBLIzzuaAD #HappyNewYear #amwriting #BlessedAssurance

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 31, 2015

I Have a Stalker

Death doesn’t scare Jesus.

That alone sets Him apart. Death scares me.

I’m not afraid of what happens after death. I’m confident in a future with Jesus but it’s the good-bye of death, the parting with loved ones, the unfinished work and experiences of this life that make me resistant to welcoming my end or the end of anyone I love. Plus, the process of dying is daunting and honestly, part of the reason death does scare me.

I know what you’re thinking. Because I’m a Christian I’m supposed to say that I it doesn’t. That’s the right answer. I know, but here, we’re being honest, aren’t we?

In my defense, I’m fearless in my head. From safe inside my quiet time, I say, “Bring it on.” Theologically speaking, I’m an Onward Christian Soldier warrior, prepared for any call at any moment. My brain knows there’s nothing to fear from death but too often, it sends the wrong message to my racing heart and wobbly knees. In the passenger side of the car, my theology clashes with my primal drive for safety and control, especially since my husband and I had our run-in with a guardrail last winter. I believe in being brave but sometimes that belief skids hard on the pavement and my soul limps away with road rash.

I’m not alone. Death is supremely unnerving even to hardened soldiers. Death stalks us all from the womb. We sense its breath on our necks at the worst times. Bravery isn’t the absence of fear but taking action despite one’s fear. Any fool knows death is a game-changer. Humanly speaking, there’s no coming back from death, so it’s understandably terrifying to the healthy soul who looks forward to each sunrise, another meal, every breath.

Death is a formidable enemy. Such a force against humanity, God used the heavy artillery of the cross to defeat it. Jesus, who was living, breathing, and looking forward to sunrise didn’t take that final walk to Calvary without agonizing on His knees before the Father. But when the Father said “Go,” Jesus faced death down and rose from the fight victorious, perfect love, perfect trust in the Father, lived out on the cross, conquering death. That is our reality. The truth that reigns over the truth we see. The ultimate override.

I fight with panic when my husband is behind the wheel and it’s rainy or snowy as it was the night we crashed. I was nervous before – now it’s even less pretty. It’s true we took one nasty spin into a guardrail. It’s just as true that we have had twenty-seven years of otherwise uneventful car rides. Accessing that truth when I flashback to the spinout in the dark and the snow is challenging. My husband is being very patient.

Harder it is for Jesus’ followers to believe in His triumph over death on this side of glory. Here, we see death win – a lot. On the rocky soil of this life, we fall easily into the earth from which we came. Fear can set in like a winter chill and we huddle around strange fires trying to ward it off. Even though we trust Jesus, it can be hair-raising to be a passenger in His car, too.

The Apostle John saw many loved ones fall. In the years following Jesus’ resurrection, the early church suffered strong persecution. Many were martyred. John may not have seen his survival and his exile to the island of Patmos as a kindness. He who witnessed Jesus firsthand must still have longed for assurance and comfort in the land of the dead and dying.

And so, when he received the Revelation of Jesus Christ and heard His voice say, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades,” it must have come down like a cool rain after a long, torturous drought. (Revelation 1:17b-18 ESV)

Death does not scare Jesus. He owns death. He presides over death. Death is conquered. In the dead of winter, we celebrate Jesus’ birth into a world that hunted Him from the womb. He knows all about being stalked by death. King Herod took out a hit on Jesus before the child could walk and the religious rulers plotted against Him throughout His days of ministry. He knows how it is to live in a world where the grave awaits, where others plan your demise, where death waits just over the next hill.

I believe He has compassion on us as we wrestle in the valley of the shadow of death. My mind knows the truth, my soul testifies to the victory, my racing heart and wobbly knees work to absorb the truth that overrides this present reality. Jesus died and is alive forevermore. He has the keys of Death and Hades. Our lives are in His capable hands.

Even in the spinouts, even when others plot our demise, even when we turn into death’s high beams, even then, Jesus reigns and death is just a threshold where He is the door to a life where death no longer has any place to call home.

I Have a Stalker so sometimes I feel afraid https://t.co/Qdu8QTuU2v the answer to my fears #Jesuslives #amwriting #truthoverride

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 28, 2015

The Blessed Theology of “Enough”

When I was young (back when gifts only appeared on birthdays and Christmas and allowances were a kid’s only means of obtaining stuff in between) I used to try to save up for things. Sometimes, the thing I wanted was truly out of reach. I can recall once or twice my parents asking how much I’d saved toward something. Knowing it would take me forever on my piddling allowance, they would make up the difference.

Oh, the joy of someone making up the difference!

I thought of that this week during a news story about an anonymous donor who paid off all the gifts on layaway in a certain store. What a lovely surprise to learn that those things you’d been trying to pay off slowly in installments would now be yours!

Imagine if you had gifts for loved ones on layaway in a store that constantly raised the prices for things as you made payments. Imagine the weary frustration of making continual payments, hoping one day the item would be yours but suspecting the game would always be stacked in the store’s favor.

That’s how most people live. With the sense that their lives are on layaway and every day they make payments but the store owner is constantly raising the price. A life built on the theology of “if I just give a little more” is an exercise in desperation, sadness, and fatigue.

This is why Jesus came.

This is why we celebrate His birth.

Our lives were held hostage in the layaway closet of the prince of this world. Many of us were making payments through good works and good choices but always with the suspicion that it would never be enough. And this was the truth. We would never do enough to have the gift of our own lives released back to us to enjoy.

So, God sent His only Son. And He calls each one of us to Him and asks, would you like me to pay off your balance? When we say “yes,” He pays our debt and hands us our lives as a gift – an eternal, everlasting gift.

No fool would continue to make payments to a store once the balance was paid and the gift was theirs. The prince of this world is a cruel store manager and sometimes tries to continue to send us bills. We can ignore these because we now have life within us as proof that they are ours, free and clear.

Don’t allow yourself to be driven by the theology of “just a little more.” It’s a lie. If you haven’t decided to follow Jesus, know that it will never go away. You will always be chasing “more” and at the end, you will still owe the store your life.

If you do follow Jesus, you can ignore those phantom, harassing demands for continual payments. Use the Word of God to stamp on them “Paid in Full” and send them right back to where they came from.

Loved ones, we are free. Truly free. In the midst of the flurry, the work, the activity, and the celebrating, stop for just one moment to remember you no longer operate under the theology of “just a little more.” Because of Jesus, you know rest in the theology of “enough.” He has paid the price to give you your life and you can now rest in Him, rejoice in the freedom, and freely live.

“His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence,” I Peter 1:3 ESV Celebrate Jesus. Because of Him, we have all we need for life and in Him, we are enough to be called children of God.

Merry Christmas, loved ones. I call you that because that is what we are – loved ones. Deeply, completely, thoroughly loved by the Almighty God and that is surely enough. I need nothing more and neither do you. You have done enough. You are enough. Enough, already, rejoice! In Jesus, we have been completely freed! Tidings of great joy, indeed.

The Blessed Theology of “Enough” https://t.co/zcBOCKaDZb #MerryChristmas #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 24, 2015

Manger Danger

Jesus would have stood out in his generation for a sad reason.

He would have been in a minority of young men his age because Herod tried to exterminate Him shortly after Jesus’ birth by ordering the execution of all males two and under in Bethlehem and the surrounding area.

A slaughter. A bloodbath. The deaths of the innocents by a king worried that another threatened his throne.

Matthew 2 records the tragic subplot of the Christmas narrative this way: “Then Herod, when he saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, became furious, and he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had ascertained from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what was spoken by the prophet Jeremiah:  “A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more.” Matthew 2:16-28 (ESV)

She refused to be comforted because they are no more.

God sent His Son into a brutal world. A serrated edge sojourn in a hair-trigger land. That is the place where we still live.

In December 2012, the lives of twenty children and six adults ended in Newtown, CT, gunned down in their innocence. This December we’ve seen more innocents slaughtered across our nation and throughout the world, evidence that there is still a prince of this world worried that another is coming for his throne. Oh, He’s coming, all right. And when He comes, all things will be set right.

Don’t make the mistake of treating Jesus like a baby. He’s all grown up and ascended to His throne. When He returns, all things will be set to right.

There will be no more weeping or mourning. The only bloodbath will be the one prepared for those who thought that babies and bystanders were fair play in this war and that swords and automatic weapons ruled the day. And if they turn to Jesus, even these will be received with love. There is a day coming when love and peace will be the only law.

I wonder if Mary told her son about the slaughter surrounding His birth. How did they process that? How many mothers wept? How many fathers grieved? How many little girls grew up wondering why they were so many among so few because of the loss of the innocents?

Jesus was acquainted with sorrow from birth and carried the burden of knowing that unnumbered children lost their lives as His was protected, guided, and celebrated. The holidays are a complex emotional concoction of joy, nostalgia, hope, and sadness – especially when we’ve lost one we love.

Jesus knows.

Jesus knows.

Jesus knows.

In your sorrow, sadness, grief, or confusion, know that you celebrate Him and honor Him, too, in that. For He was a man of sorrows. He holds your heart in His calloused, gentle hands. Sorrow will have its season but joy will stretch into eternity. Know this.

This is the true joy of Christmas and the lasting triumph over evil. The kings of this world and those who wield weapons will not have the last word. Jesus. First, last, and forever.

Manger Danger https://t.co/uK1eSQX8l4 Christmas in a terrorized world, #Christmas #grievingatChristmas #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 22, 2015

Proof that Jesus Lives in Rhode Island

Jesus lives here in Rhode Island.

He lives other places, too, but He has a residence here with us rocky soil believers in the North East, for certain. Even though we qualify as an unreached people group. Even though Providence scores near the bottom of the country for biblical literacy. Even though you won’t hear us saying, “Bless your heart,” or “Y’all come back now.” Still, Jesus loves and abides with us.

The church is a battered and beaten entity, taking hits from outsiders and insider alike. It’s tricky to talk about her because there’s the church, which is a living organism comprised of people who love Jesus and there’s The Church, which is a religious organization that resembles the true church much like carob resembles chocolate.

Sometimes, people are exposed to The Church in a way that creates a barrier between them and Jesus. Which is sad because Jesus Is the door to life and those who walk through that door find they are in this amazing, colorful, inclusive, lively, diverse, crazy family known as the church.

Those of us who love the church, sometimes have such an overwhelming sense of our own sinfulness and shortcomings (that can happen when you’re standing in the light), we do her a disservice and don’t speak well enough of the amazing work Jesus does through her on earth. We must remember that He is the head of the church, and that no amount of counterfeiting on the part of The Church will ultimately prevail over what Jesus has established.

The Body of Christ rocks. Like the Grand Canyon, Victoria Falls, or a newborn baby, the church is an awe-inspiring creation of God. I’ve seen her in action from my childhood to now and I continue to find innumerable reasons to love her. Sometimes, like a warm home or a sibling, we take her for granted but that doesn’t mean she’s lost her capacity to amaze.

Consider her quiet generosity and her compassion for those who have been failed by all other systems humanity has created. In my day job, I work with families in need. Those needs may be basic, physical needs like food and shelter or things like friendship and guidance. The state and federal government have put systems in place to address many of these needs but there are countless cracks in that system. Whenever a family is in danger of falling through that crack, some part of Jesus’ church in RI has been there to catch them in its arms in very real and practical ways.

The thing about the church is she likes to move unnoticed through her administration of grace. She doesn’t trumpet and clang, she moves quietly in love, but she does move on behalf of others, inspired by Jesus.

Here in rocky soil Rhode Island, I’ve seen people who love Jesus buy brand new bunk beds and quality mattresses for siblings who’d been sharing a bed – without ever knowing the family. I’ve seen the family of God pay hundreds of dollars to provide shelter for women with children fleeing unsafe situations.

I’ve seen them cover everyday bills like electricity and heat and I’ve seen them supply food from their own cupboards and freezers when strangers fall short. I’ve seen Jesus-followers give handmade quilts to children who own nothing beautiful and buy countless toys for birthdays and Christmases to children with no connection to any church anywhere.

I’ve known Jesus-followers to be willing to befriend lonely single parents, to embrace people of other faiths and cultures in their gatherings, to go out of their way to help families dealing with chronic addiction, chronic homelessness, chronic hunger and never lose patience or hope. To offer jobs or job training, tutoring, and mentoring to adults and teens. Children with no means have gone to camp, taken guitar lessons, or worn brand new clothes for the first time because someone in the family of God sacrificed to make it happen.

Christians call me offering help without ever having to know names or specific situations. When I’ve called on people from the church with a family in need, I’ve never heard anyone hesitate, not even for a heartbeat. This isn’t just a Christmas phenomenon either. Jesus-followers ask year-round how they can assist. They are relentless in their quest to serve.

These aren’t acts mentioned on the nightly news. Daily sacrifices don’t make headlines. And these aren’t people trying to earn heaven – it’s already theirs. This is Jesus living and touching lives through those who love Him – not to be noticed or to get something in return but simply to express the love that He is.

Church scandals are headline news simply because it’s such the anti-thesis of what the church truly is everyday in countless ways. She is a thing of beauty to behold – like fine stained-glass flooded with the light of Jesus Christ which makes all her colors shine.

Does Jesus live where you are? If He lives in you, He does, and you shine, too. Let the lights of the season remind you of the brilliant beauty of His bride, the church, and know you are part of a glorious, generous, gracious family that give light to the world until He comes.

Proof that Jesus Lives in Rhode Island https://t.co/bT6GAa3oVf light through stained-glass #ChristmasLights #amwriting #giving

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 19, 2015

A Democrat, a Republican, and Jesus Walk Into a Bar

A Democrat, a Republican, and Jesus walk into a bar.

The debate is on TV and it’s a fun crowd so they hang for a while over burgers and watch the opposing candidates duke it out. (Jesus nurses one glass of wine throughout if that helps you with this scenario.)

At the end, the Democrat and the Republican are both cheering and each confidently proclaims his/her candidate the winner. Jesus is smiling up at the television and they turn to Him as He says, “I really love that person.”

“Which one?” they ask Him.

“Exactly.” He answers, as He picks up the tab for the house and heads out to do some work more acceptable to the Baptists peeking in the from the street.

What you hear in the Presidential debates will depend a lot on you and what you’re listening for but this blog isn’t about politics. Because what you hear is dependent on how you listen in every area of life. This blog is about your soul and this one truth: what you hear all depends on your ears.

Our society places a great deal of pressure on the communicator.

I’m sure all presidential candidates have been drilled on their talking points for weeks. They’ve been coached on their phrasing, body language, eye contact, and hand gestures. They’ve been advised to appear natural, authentic, presidential, and on message. Ministers, youth leaders, missionaries, teachers, parents, writers, speakers, motivators, counselors, musicians, poets, filmmakers, and communicators of all kinds work harder than you can imagine to present their message in the optimal way for their audience. The stress can be overwhelming.

But Jesus, Master communicator, Story-teller extraordinaire, Speech-writer to the Stars (the actual stars) knew a secret He shared often:

the completion of the message all depends on the ears on which it lands.

In Luke 8:18a, Jesus warns us, “Therefore, consider carefully how you listen.” That is a warning worth meditating on every day for at least a week. Take it on as a challenge. Pay attention to how you listen for one whole day.

Ask yourself: are you listening to hear OR are you listening to criticize, judge, find fault, mock, scorn, reject, correct, be entertained, satisfy curiosity, argue, prove a point, conflict, endure until it’s your turn to speak, escape, feel superior, get it over with, avoid talking. Are you listening at all?

What we hear in any given situation really depends on the ears we bring to the moment. Jesus called out again and again, “Whoever has ears, let him hear.” In the gospels and then again in Revelation, He repeats this crucial exhortation. “Whoever has ears, let him hear.” Do you have ears that hear?

When you sit through a sermon, are you listening for what God is saying to you or are you reviewing the pastor’s style? When you sit across the table from your spouse, are you listening for the cry of his heart or are you waiting for your turn so you can point out where he’s wrong? When your coworker is yakking on about her issues with the church and Christians who judge, are you formulating an argument or are you trying to hear the pain and the ache of her soul? Are you listening for the voice of the Holy Spirit whispering to you what she really needs to hear when it’s your turn to speak?

Maybe you aren’t listening at all. Maybe you live in a world of earbuds, iPods, Bluetooth, and constantly yammering screens so there is barely a moment when your ears are not assaulted with the noise that rushes the airwaves like a tsunami.

Is it hard to believe that Satan is the prince of the air? His lies sail like arrows along the currents that connect his message of deception to the receivers in our minds through the channel that Jesus warned us is wide open and can be the key to successful message delivery – our ears.

Do you have ears that hear?

Spend tonight or tomorrow paying attention to how you listen and how you hear. Ask God to show you what messages are getting through that are deceptive and what truths are hitting a firewall when they try to penetrate your airways.

If you have ears that hear, you’ll know what Jesus was saying back at the bar when He was watching the candidates on the screen. Can you hear Him now, loved ones? Do you hear what I hear?

A Republican, A Democrat, and Jesus Walk into a Bar https://t.co/8qxRaHXFXo do you hear what I hear? #republicandebate #Trump #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 16, 2015

Christians – We Have the Right to Remain Silent

We have the right to remain silent –and it just may be time to exercise it.

Peter the Apostle warned us to, “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” He didn’t, however, say that Christians need to have an answer for everything. This nuance is lost on many.

Words fly, in fact, these days, they swarm! Around here, winter moths plague us by the thousands. Like snowflakes fluttering up from the ground, drawn to white houses, walls, or cars, a person has to bat his way through them to get anywhere at night. It’s like that with words in this information age. They flock like moths and come at us from the moment we wake to the time we drop off to sleep. They’re everywhere.

I love words, of course. I’m a woman of words. Love to read them, write them, hear them, sing them, type them, absorb them, and live them out. But, like anything else we love, words can become an idol. When we’ve come to rely on words more than we rely on Jesus, it’s time to step into silence. There, we’ll discover that it’s true there is no place where we can flee from God. We find Him in words and we find Him, also, in silence.

Five Times to Silent

When words have become our idol – When we find ourselves hoping our words will provide all we need – comfort, wisdom, food, clothes, warmth, self-esteem, fulfillment, riches, acceptance, forgiveness, salvation, nurture, and belonging. When we turn to words to validate our existence. When we cannot bear silence because it ratchets up our fear/anxiety/loneliness/insecurity/loss/sense of failure/inadequacy or lack of love, then, especially then, we must throw ourselves into the silence and ask God to meet us there to remind us He is all we need.
When words are a way we to control the world – Words can be weapons, a means of control, battering rams, Trojan horses, flaming arrows, billy clubs, suits of armor, shields, swords, daggers. So look around you. If your loved ones are lying bleeding on the floor, it’s time to wave the white flag of silence. Disarm. Refuse to enter into the sin of self-protection. God is our fortress, He is our deliverer, in Him will we trust – not our ability to rule the world (and others) with words.
When words are a substitute – There is a time for words but there are times for other things, too. Some moments call for words but others call for action, presence, shared grief, touch, labor, money, food, service, sacrifice, or grand gestures. To offer words when other actions are required is like sending clowns to entertain a starving child. There are times when words are such an offense, we should have a way to turn the air blue around those who dare speak rather than act or mute themselves.
When to speak is to throw one’s pearls before swine – It’s likely that for many of the hundred years Noah spent building the ark, he appealed to those watching (looking on, mocking perhaps) to repent and turn back to God. But at some point, it was time to stop talking and pack up the boat. Jesus preached repentance to all who would hear but before His accusers, He stood silent. When we have told the truth, when we have testified to what we know, when we’ve delivered the message of repentance leading to salvation, there can come a time to stand silent, giving the Spirit room to work. We can stand silently before scorn, hatred, misunderstanding, rebuke, abuse, mocking, and all manner of persecution. The hot air of our speeches does not control the wind.
When the Spirit is silent – Jesus did nothing without the Father and so we should do nothing, not even speak or write, without the Spirit of Him who lived in perfect obedience. When the Spirit calls for silence, we can rest in silence, knowing that all words beyond it would be of our own making – like using paper airplanes to land on the moon. So all who speak must also listen. This act, in itself, requires silence, like rests in a musical score.

Let’s not allow the world to pressure us into speaking or into thinking we need to have an answer for everything. Be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope you have but know there are other times where you have the right to remain silent.

Silent night, holy night – good advice for all seasons.

Christians – We Have the Right to Remain Silent https://t.co/BRVAT1DxVf #SilentNight #amwriting #Silence

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) December 15, 2015