Lori Stanley Roeleveld's Blog, page 59

The Most Frightening Good News

Lepers.

They’re all over the gospels.

The choices Jesus made fascinate me because He’s the ultimate communicator. He told stories with His stories but also with His choices.

So, why all the lepers?

Jesus healed many people but the Holy Spirit inspired the gospel writers to focus on the lame, the blind, and the lepers.

We’ve learned much about leprosy since Biblical times and some of what is referred to in the Bible as leprosy was likely other skin diseases but leprosy causes a deadening of the nerves. In many patients, this results in a loss of feeling – including pain. Which you would think would be a plus but pain is part of our design. It’s a handy warning system when we touch something hot. Without the warning of pain, we might leave our hands on a burner incurring permanent damage without realizing it. Leprosy isn’t a desired condition and in Jesus’ day, lepers were often quarantined for fear of contagion.

In effect, though, by healing a leper, Jesus was reawakening them to a world of pain.

Think about that. Healing for lepers meant saying yes to experiencing pain once again. Most of us have thought it would be wonderful to live in a world without pain but too often, numbing ourselves to pain means losing our ability to sense any feeling. And pain can be useful as a protective factor, as a deterrent to destructive behavior, and as a warning system.

Much of the modern world is choosing a form of spiritual leprosy. We’ve become so resistant to pain and discomfort that we do anything to numb ourselves. We use work, entertainment, medication, relationships, and vices of every sort to avoid pain.

Then, we encounter Jesus. We seek healing. He offers it. But then, we learn the deal. To be healed means to reawaken to a world of pain. Loving the lost. Engaging in Christian community. Allowing change into our ordered world. Taking risks. Trusting God in the dark. Pain. Pain. Pain.

So, we have a choice. Refuse healing. Turn from relationship with Jesus and return to our orderly, entertained, medicated, pain-free lives. Or receive healing. Choose to get to know Jesus. But then, follow Him into all the messiness that ministering to a dark, numb world has to offer and open ourselves up to pain.

There will also be joy – lasting joy, not fleeting happiness. There will also be a host of other pleasurable experiences because awakening to Jesus means fullness of life – the full range of feelings. To love deeply is incredible but it makes us vulnerable to  pain. That’s the Jesus deal. He loved us and that love led Him to the cross but also to resurrection.

It’s harder to write about the usefulness of pain when you’re in it but it does help to keep the conversation real. There’s nothing romantic about pain but there is purpose in it when Jesus is involved.

What about you? Are you ready to be healed?

The Most Frightening Good News http://t.co/OhDb5OAZ7H

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 14, 2015

Step Aside, People, This is a Job for an Old Woman

I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but God doesn’t see old women the way the world does.

The world looks at gray hair, wrinkles, and saggy parts and says,“Woah, take a load off, Annie. You just sit your old bones over in that rocker and rest up for . . . well, you just rest.”

Where as Jesus, well, He’s just as likely to see the same conglomeration of battered bones and liver spots but instead of shuffling her off to the home He’s after her with an assignment– and no light duty, either. He called Sarah and Elizabeth to give birth, special babies with callings, Deborah

to lead the nation of Israel, Noah’s wife to survive when all others were doomed, and countless other old women to similar acts of courage and faith.

And neither He doesn’t wink at the sin of old women.

He knows that just as some women age with light and grace,others age bent like gnarled tree roots or tough and leathered like road kill in a freeze. He doesn’t excuse their meanness or their vitriol any more than He excuses the blood lust of young men or the foolish gossip of young girls.

When Athaliah set out to destroy her own family in a bid f

or power, God had her put to death by the sword. When Jezebel faced judgment for persecuting His prophets, God had her thrown out of a window, her body devoured by dogs. And when Sapphira insisted on lying to the apostles to cover the greed she shared with her husband, moments later she lay cold and dead beside him, at the will of the Lord.

God knows that old women are a force. There’s something that happens to those of us of a certain age. We lose our need to please people. We understand that nice isn’t one of the fruits of the spirit. We grasp the value of truth, of courage, of perseverance, and know that at its core love is a sinewy muscle,like the heart, that weathers on despite its burdens and the ravages of time, love is a feisty thing with bulldog teeth and the iron grip a mother clinging to a child in a gale force wind.

Old women without God are agents of evil so terrible there should be a special forces unit assigned just to hunt down godless women over fifty. Old women sold out to Jesus Christ, though, are light sabers in the hand of the Master Jedi, able to lacerate the darkness with razor precision, slice away bonds of evil freeing those enslaved, and light the way for those lost so they may emerge from the catacombs of delusion.

I believe God is raising up old women across the planet to contend against the evil one in the battle for souls. He’s fostering a spiritual militia of bold, stouthearted, fearless, articulate, compassionate soldiers adorned with crowns of gray and eyes bright with eternal life.

One of them made the Charisma new last year. In a report f

rom China about thousands of Chinese believers forming a human shield to protect their church, there is this quote from Yang Zhumei, age 74: “On Thursday evening, several hundred police officers with bulldozers took up positions around the church. “I held their hands and said, ‘Comrades, don’t take down our cross. I can give you my head instead,'” Yang Zhumei, 74, told the Telegraph.“Even if they take my head, I can still find happiness with God,” she shouted.”

http://www.charismanews.com/world/43416-thousands-of-christians-form-human-shield-to-protect-church

It takes a few decades on this planet, walking every day with Jesus, to know that happiness can be found even if one is decapitated.

If Yang Zhumei can face down communist soldiers, others of us can stand up and be heard where we are. We can minister to drug addicts and rock crack babies through withdrawal. We can take planes to foreign lands to fight sex trafficking or serve in orphanages or translate God’s word into unknown languages.

We can intercede in the night. We can speak out in the day. We can take on schools that threaten to silence our children when they speak about Jesus and we can inspire lukewarm believers warming pews to rise up and walk.

Old women are a force – for God or evil – we choose now and we’ll answer for our choice when He returns- we face the dogs like Jezebel or birth new life even in our twilight years like Sarah, like Yang Zhumei. And so I pray with the Psalmist: “So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come.” Psalm 71:18 (ESV)

Who is with me?  Sometimes the job of kingdom building calls for a tough old broad, so rise up, and bring along the old men, too. We can be light sabers, all.

Step Aside, People! This is a Job for an Old Woman! http://t.co/7qGipvuBK0 #amwriting #oldwoman #Jesus #DowntonAbbey #MaggieSmith

Step Aside, People! This is a Job for an Old Woman! http://t.co/7qGipvuBK0 #amwriting #oldwoman #Jesus #DowntonAbbey #MaggieSmith

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 12, 2015

Relentless Wounds in the Glorious Quest

All good soldiers rise to their first wound. They expect it. Fresh off the battlefield, they accept the treatment – embrace the cure – grateful they will fight again.

It’s when the wound is reopened – not just once, but repeatedly, that the true warrior is revealed in the testing. Will he or she be able to press through the relentless cycle of rewounding that occurs when a war wages on?

My initial wound is a good story. I incurred it in battle – physical combat. Well, as close as I ever get to that.

To say I’m not athletic is to say that Meryl Streep enjoys acting. If sitting were an Olympic sport, I would gold medal for the U.S. But, in my early forties, I got up off my chair and spent several years training toward my black belt in karate.

Five minutes into the second hour of my final six-hour black belt test, I was sparring. That’s where two people throw punches and kicks at one another, not intending to cause injury, but definitely aiming to make contact. (The combatants generally wear protective gear.)

I was paired with my good friend, Tony, when I made the bonehead move of stepping right into his spinning back kick. I took it square to my sternum.

As I paused, windless, to absorb the full impact of the blow, my sensei came up behind and said, “If you walk off the floor, you’re out of the test.”

Now, I was, without argument, the worst student in my class. Truly remedial. Never the sparring partner anyone expected to win. But, four years of stinkin’ hard work was on the line and I wasn’t about to let Tony earn his black belt without me. So, I stayed on the dojo floor. Sparring. Push-ups. Kata. Practice falls. For four and three-quarter more excruciatingly agonizing hours.

I managed to push through the entire test with what I later learned was an injury known as costochondral separation – some of my ribs separated from my sternum. Not a preferred condition. Famously painful.

I spent weeks in extra-ordinary pain but now I know that, I – Miss Pillsbury Doughboy – I can keep fighting through Lethal Weapon-type pain. I can push past the wound and cross the finish line. Once.

Like I said, the first story is a good one.

The second time the wound resurfaced in brilliant agony is not a great story. I’d worked too long in the wrong position at my laptop. A blogging injury. That aggravated the former injury site resulting in costochondritis – painful, excruciating, but a dull tale.

Now, once again, the seatbelt injury from our spinout on the ice, has forced me to revisit the blinding, restrictive pain. And it’s made me think about relentlessly, reopened wounds.

Wounds sap strength. They require energy to cope with pain, to push past discomfort, to compensate for injury. Life is demanding enough without wounds. With them, it’s downright discouraging.

There’s something particularly disheartening about old wounds.

The victim is achingly familiar with the pain and the process of recovery. The boredom complicates the predicament. Comforters grow weary of comforting. Compassion fatigue grows evident in those closest to the victim. These things are bad enough.

But with every reopened wound, there are other temptations – fears that the wound will never heal, bitterness about the original occurrence, an openness to go to greater lengths and more ridiculous measures to speed healing, regret, self-reproach, blame.

All of these things requires energy, too, and that can rob a person of life – not in a flash, not in a brilliant death ray, but in a slow, imperceptible leak of soul.

God warns us to guard against bitterness, self-pity, blame, and obsessing over what is past. No one gets through this life without wounds. We all have them. Many of us rise to the initial wound. We go to God. We cooperate with the cure. We’re patient with healing.

That’s why Satan thrills at the revisited wound. He knows it makes us more susceptible to temptation than we were the first time, the second, or the third time. He knows how easy it will be for us to yield to those things that drain the energy we need to push past the wound and continue the work of building His kingdom. One of Satan’s favorite weapons is the spiritual battering ram.

So, for the third time now, I’m turning this wound over to God. I’m trusting Him enough to rest, to follow the course of treatment, and to receive healing. I’m putting a guard over my heart and mind against bitterness, anger, regret, self-pity, and blame. I’m letting God run the agenda of my wound – not the enemy.

And, I’m praying that God shows me the reopened wounds of my heart, mind, and soul that need His healing touch, too.

How about you? Do you wrestle with old wounds – physical or otherwise? How do you defend against soul-draining temptations? Where do you go for hope when the pain resurfaces?

Have you found me yet on Youtube? I’m learning to create video posts. Here’s one. Stop by and let me know what you think!

Relentless Wounds in the Glorious Quest http://t.co/d04x2nleo2 #amwriting #amwritingfaith #openwounds #woundedwarriors #spiritualbattle

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 11, 2015

Strange Testimonies (or Stories We Tell in the Desert)

It was testimony night.

The leader poked the fire as the others stared at the flames, the stars, or the shadows on the desert dunes. “Who wants to share? Who’s seen God at work this week? Moses? You haven’t shared in – you know – ten years.”

Moses pulled himself up by his staff and inhaled the damp smoke. “I saw Him work in the hills one night a month back. One of my ewes was near death birthing a lamb. I saw the light go clear out of her eyes and I whispered a prayer to spare her. Next moment, the lamb arrived and that ewe was licking my hand, as full of life as the day she was born.”

Old Caiaphas sighed. “That’s it?”

Moses shifted his weight to his other leg. “Well, I still dream about finding a way to help my people, a way to loosen the bondage of their oppression. I talk with the Almighty about it when we’re alone out here. But, it’s been a long time since I ran off.”

“You need to let that go, Moses.” Caiaphas said. “Maybe that was His plan for you at one point but you blew it. There’s no way you kill a man and then God uses you to help others. You should be grateful for what He’s allowed you out here. A quiet life. A little family. Let it go, already, brother. That’s your testimony. You’ve been out in the desert twenty years or more. If He was going to use you, He’d have done it by now, wouldn’t He?”

Moses lowered himself back to his place and Joseph stood. Around one of his ankles was a tether secured to the waistband of another at the fire. Joseph looked at the ground as he spoke. “First, I want to thank Ari the jailer for bringing me out to the fire tonight.”

Ari nodded. “You’ve earned it, Joe. You work hard.”

“Thank you. You would think I don’t have a testimony from prison but I have a lot of time there to pray and meditate on God’s teachings. Some days, although I miss my family and freedom, I can’t imagine that it’s better than the relationship I share now with the Almighty in the long days of my imprisonment.”

Several around the fire grunted. A log popped on the fire.

“There was a time God gave me dreams that I would be a leader over my brothers. The dreams still come to me. I do believe God has a plan but, that sounds like a prison fantasy now.”

Caiaphas nodded. “You sure got a raw deal, kid. We all know what Potiphar’s wife pulled, although I have to say, I can’t imagine you weren’t leading her on a little. Where there’s smoke there’s fire, right? Maybe it was your arrogance that bugged God with all these dreams about being a leader and thinking you were better than everyone else. God wouldn’t have allowed you to be in prison if He didn’t think you deserved it somehow. Ari says you do well there. Maybe leading prisoners is what those dreams were about. Don’t get your hopes up thinking there’s more. You’re not even a niggle in that Pharaoh’s mind.”

As Joseph sat, the leader scanned the group, ignoring one man’s upraised hand.

“Ooh, I have a story.” The man said jumping to his feet.

The leader shook his head. “Sit down, Sampson. We’re talking God testimonies not your newest conquest tale.”

“But this one’s different! I promise. Her name’s Delilah.” He started.

“Sit down.” The men said as one.

Caiaphas looked around. “Hey, where’s that runt, Gideon? Are you hiding again, boy?”

The leader lifted a torch and located the young man huddled behind one of the camels. “For Pete’s sake, Gideon, there are no Midianites out in this part of the desert. Stand up and testify about seeing God at work.”

Gideon shuffled over.

“He said stand up, Gideon.” Sampson said as he snickered. “Oh, wait, you are standing up!”

Everyone shushed Sampson.

“Okay, I do have a testimony but it’s not one you’ll believe. He came to me this week. I saw Him.”

Caiaphas guffawed. “Came to you? Not likely. What did He say?”

“He said, ‘The Lord is with you, O mighty man of valor.’”

Sampson and Caiaphas rolled with laughter but the leader silenced them with a glance. “Tell us what else.”

Gideon looked off into the desert. “No. I mean, there was more. He said more. I asked some questions but I don’t think I can talk about it yet. I’m waiting for confirmation but until it comes, you’ll just think I’m stupid.”

“Got that right.” said Sampson.

Gideon sat and the group fell into a long silence. The only sound was the scurry of small creatures dashing scurrying about and eventually, Sampson’s snore.

Moses looked over at their leader and said, “Peter, what made you get this group together, anyway? None of us have any testimony worth telling but you made it sound important.”

Peter smiled as he poked again at the fire. “We’re gathered in the desert that lies between vision and fulfillment, between calling and consummation, between visitation and realization, loved ones. It’s just as important to pause and tell our stories here as it will be at the end. You don’t know that now but I know it and there are others who even now will hang on these words.”

“I don’t have a vision or a dream or a calling.” Said Caiaphas. “I’m just here out of religious duty. Why did you invite me?”

“Because, old friend, I can’t wait to see your face when we tell the end of our stories. God isn’t done with any of us gathered here.”

The men all glanced over as one at Sampson and Peter’s laughter rang out over the dunes. “Even that one, my friends. Just wait and see. The best stories have all passed through this desert, trust me.”

Is your testimony in the desert between vision and fulfillment? between calling and consummation? between visitation and realization, loved ones? Gather here, around the fire, and tell what you know. Trust God to bring about the end He desires. One day, we’ll tell our stories for a thousand years.

Strange Testimonies (or stories we tell in the desert) http://t.co/aTr6T896Ii #amwriting #amwritingfaith #longdesertnights #enduringtrials

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 7, 2015

Confessions of a Second-Class Christian

Recently, I visited a place that reminded me I don’t really belong in the church.

You know, because they know my stuff.

Some people have met me through my writing, others through my work, some have become friends through shared struggles, but these church people knew me in failure, pain, rumors, and lies. For some, that cancels me out of full-on belonging in the family.

You know, I can sit with them because Jesus even let in prostitutes and tax collectors but I’ll never really be one of them. I can worship, but only from the cheapseats.

I feel as though it’s always been that way with me and the church. There was a story I used to read at Christmas when I was child called “The Little Match Girl,” by Hans Christian Anderson – a story much more tragic than my own about a homeless little girl who lights magical matches on New Years’ Eve and can see beautiful Christmas tableaus inside people’s homes but she cannot enter. With her last match, she sees her grandmother who has gone on to heaven, beckoning her there to a beautiful place where she is welcome at last.

That story touched me as a child because I imagined that most people had perfect families like the ones the girl saw through the walls. I hoped that if I was very, very perfect, I could overcome my own imperfect origin. And then, if I could create a perfect family with Jesus’ help, then I would belong.

But, you know, there’s no perfection on this side of glory even when we know Jesus. The moment we learn that lesson, when we light our final match and find ourselves still sitting out in the cold, it can shatter our faith, but really what shatters is the illusion of faith and that’s where true faith begins.

Until that moment, many of us believe our entrance into God’s kingdom is some kind of partnership between us and Jesus. We KNOW Jesus does MOST of the work but we function under the delusion that it’s something like a 60/40 proposition – 70/30 at the most. This gives us, we believe, the right to look down on those for whom it seems a 90/10 kind of deal.

But when we light our last match and it fails to save us from the cold reality of our world, that’s when we realize salvation is 100% Jesus. Our entrance to His kingdom rests solely on His shoulders on the cross. He fully redeemed us with no help from us at all. Maybe that’s why the Holy Spirit came with “tongues of fire.” All our matches were spent. We couldn’t even muster a spark without Jesus.

Matthew understood being an outsider. He didn’t belong anywhere. He didn’t belong with his people, the Jews, because he’d sold them out to work for their oppressors, the Romans. He didn’t belong with the Romans because, by birth, he was a Jew. He is, for me, evidence that the disciples didn’t invent a religion because they never would have included Matthew. He didn’t belong.

And yet, Jesus chose Him. Loved Him. Included Him in His inner circle. Commissioned Him. Redeemed Him completely. Selected Him to write one of only four gospels – words that would be read and re-read for centuries by millions. Jesus took the outsider and made him the ultimate inside man.

None of us would have seen anything worth redeeming about Matthew. He stole. He lied. He betrayed his own people. He cooperated with the enemy. He was a low-life. We wouldn’t have seen anything worth redeeming about Matthew because there was nothing worth redeeming. He became of worth through His redemption in Christ. I was not worth redeeming either. But I now have worth because I have been redeemed.

The enemy knows about those of us who feel like second-class Christians. He plays on that. He sticks His finger in that wound and sometimes he orchestrates circumstances to rip it wide open again. He does it to paralyze, to immobilize, to render us impotent in the work of furthering God’s kingdom – if he can. We need to spot his attack and guard against it. Our defense is God’s word – a steady assault of the truth that we are called to belong, as Paul says in Romans 1:6 “including you who are called to belong to Jesus Christ,” (ESV) Our defense is Christ Himself. He chose to redeem us, to include us, to bring us into His family and let no one speak against His work.

Have you ever felt like a second-class Christian either because of your own failings, people’s false impressions of you, or through the failings of loved ones? Resist the enemy’s attempts to contain the work of Christ in you and through you by muting your gifts which are for the building up of the body of Christ. Because you see, even this work of inclusion isn’t about any one of us, it’s about Jesus and about building the church of which He is the head.

Pray for me not to silence myself and I will pray for you, loved ones. No matter what our circumstances, the truth of them or what others think about them, Jesus has the final word on our lives and that word is redeemed.

If you haven’t had a chance to check out my new book, Running from a Crazy Man (and other adventures traveling with Jesus) I hope you will! I wrote it for every Christian who’s been knocked down once or twice and who needs to be invited or incited to keep going deeper with Jesus. If you’ve read it and are considering using it with your Sunday school, Bible study, or small group, you’ll find a free downloadable handout of Hints and Helps for Small Group Leaders here! Thank you, thank you, to the many who have taken a moment to help spread the word about this book by leaving a review on Amazon or by mentioning it to your friends. The book can be found at your local bookstore, Amazon, or Barnes and Noble.

Confessions of a Second-Class Christian http://t.co/H6r15RJ4i5 #excluded #amwriting #amwritingfaith #ontheoutsidelookingin #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 5, 2015

A Prayer for Our Battle with ISIS – A Message from the Nation of the Cross for those Who Shed Our Blood

Lord, teach us to pray.

You are sovereign over all the earth. You are the beginning and the end. Our times are no surprise to you and so we praise you that you are a strong tower, a fortress, a bulwark at which we may gather when all around there is turmoil, terror, and pain. Lord, in the name of Jesus Christ, hear our prayer.

There is terror on the earth and you know it better than we. Brothers and sisters we’ve never met, who live far from us, these loved ones are under siege by those who are at war, not with us, but with You.

This enemy doesn’t value life. They show no fear of You. And they multiply daily. These are ones who have fallen under the deception of the evil one. They are victims of the ancient dragon who has sought to destroy humanity since our creation. And so, for this enemy we pray that you would deliver them from deception, free them from the bondage of rebellion and slavery to evil, silence the voice of the enemy in their ears – make them deaf to his commands.

Instead, may your Holy Spirit be free to work within them to convict, to correct, to convert, and to make a clear path for Jesus into their hearts and minds. Assault them Lord with the truth. Wherever they turn, may they encounter the truth of Jesus Christ. It is our prayer that they would repent of their evil ways, turn to you, and see the salvation provided by Jesus Christ on the cross.

Until that day that they bow their knees to Jesus, we pray that you limit their destructive capabilities. Throw their forces into chaos, confuse their communication, cripple their weaponry. May their courage falter, may their ranks dwindle, may they be ensnared by their own traps. Paralyze their forces and render them impotent to carry out their plans. Lord, hear our prayer.

Teach us to pray for the believers in the path of the blade.

For these loved ones, we ask for protection, for mercy, and for a spectacular sense of your presence with them. Grant them peace that you will care for their loved ones. Grant them unusual courage and strength to persevere. Comfort them in the midst of their sorrow, their separation from home and community, and in hunger and pain.

Lord, hold their hearts and minds in your loving arms. Cradle them to yourself as they witness atrocity, as they endure the unimaginable, as their worlds spin out of control. Just as David heard your voice in the wilderness when he ran from King Saul, let these, your children, hear your voice in the face of their captors. Be swift to offer them mercy. Lord, hear our prayer.

Lord, minister to the hearts of their loved ones. Provide for their basic needs when those who provided for them are taken captive or killed. Make the survivors deaf to the taunts of the evil one who would tempt them to bitterness or hatred or to turn from you. Make them resistant to the enemy’s attempts to tempt them to seek revenge. Help them to leave vengeance to you.

Quell their fears, Lord, and be the fire within them so their love does not grow cold in the face of such unbearable evil. Deliver them, Lord, from the path of destruction and grant them the joy of seeing their loved ones’ sacrifices bear fruit in that many hear their story and turn to you. May the enemy’s plan backfire, Lord, in that the blood of the martyrs bears the fruit of repentance in all who hear it told in every nation on the earth.

Lord, deliver us, your children who live far from this danger, those of us blessed with comfort, safety, and privilege, deliver us from complacency, mediocrity, and lazy faith. Galvanize us, Lord, not just to cry out against these crimes with our words but also with our actions. Incite us, Lord, to boldness in testifying to who you are, to greater fervor and faithfulness of worship, to active obedience to Your word, and to deeper love for those You love wherever we encounter them every moment of our day. Make us unafraid but rather make us joyful, hopeful, willing to live sacrificially, and energized in the face of persecution. Defend us against the hardening of our hearts, against doubt, against cynicism, against bloodlust, and against the weakness of hatred and revenge. Instead, make us more like Christ. Refine us through fire, fortify our faith through suffering, and inflame our love by letting us see Your face in the midst of these troublesome days. Open our eyes to see You at work, Lord, and let us be where You are.

You are our fortress. You are our stronghold. You are the Lord over all the earth and we await Your return with eager hearts. Finish Your work within us until the day of Your reappearance and enable us to bring You honor and glory until You come. You are God. You reign over all the earth. One day, every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that You are God. Maranatha, Lord Jesus, come quickly, come.

In the mighty name of Jesus, we pray. And all God’s people said, Amen.

I welcome all believers everywhere to pray and to share this prayer in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen. May God have mercy on us all.

A Prayer for our Battle with #ISIS – A Message from the #Nationofthecross . http://t.co/FQupuaToLU #amwriting #ampraying #JesusChrist

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) February 27, 2015

Spinning Out of Control

Not my actual car

In the dark of early morning Wednesday, I was in the passenger seat when our car hit a patch of ice and spun out of control. I don’t remember much – a sense of horror, a glimpse of guardrail, the name of Jesus. Those are the impressions that remain of the actual crash.

I don’t remember my glasses flying off my face or the seatbelt pressing into my legs and chest enough to cause injury or hitting my knee on something (the dashboard?) to create a bruise.

Horror. Guardrail. Jesus. That’s it.

Sharper the memory of what followed.

Burning pain in my chest. Incredible cold. The dark. My husband talking with 911. He says he’s fine.

Men in turnout coats with neon green stripes. Reassurance. Hands placing me on a backboard. Panic. I was confused by the pain in my chest. I couldn’t link a cause.

Anger. Definite anger about the crash. Lost wages. Damaged car. Then, the med techs placed restraints and blocks around my head. I’m claustrophobic. Panic ratchets up. Can’t find my glasses. Can’t locate my phone. Panic and pain increasing.

Any history of heart problems? No. How was the pain? An 8, on that bump a 10, back to an 8, on that turn an 11. I really started to lose it. I can’t do this. My kids – is Rob telling them I’m fine? I am fine. They should go to school. Go to work. Drive carefully.

My parents. How to not to stress them? I’m fine. Don’t let this add to your stress. My job. A client scheduled to meet me in just hours. I’m not that fine. I can’t breathe and now these med techs and the hospital staff will see – I’m not fine. Fine is fading in the rearview mirror.

I’m full on panicked. I am totally losing it panicked. Like a second phase spin out strapped to a back board with my head immobilized I can’t breathe from my chest burning panicked. A new sense of horror, will there be an emotional guardrail or am I going to mentally derail? Jesus. Not a prayer, just a name. Jesus.

Where is Jesus when things spin out of control?

I think His name. Speak His name to my mind. It doesn’t work as a sedative. I’m still claustrophobic. Still over my stress threshold. Still crying and losing it when we reach the ER. Yes, yes, I would like whatever meds you have to offer. Yes, I am having a panic attack. Yes, the pain and bruising from the seatbelt injury are real – so is the stress, the cost, the aftermath.

Thinking about it today as I wade through headlines about kidnapped Christians and the factors in my own life, it occurs to me that there is a giant patch of ice lying ahead for Western Christians who have created a theology based on control. Some of you know immediately what I mean.

I’ve believed it. It’s what I heard at Christian college. Follow Jesus. Obey the Bible. Make Godly choices. And if you do . . . the implication is that life will work out, blessings will follow, dreams will come true, and Jesus will always be there for you.

And that’s true but it isn’t the whole truth.

Because, there comes a moment when life spins out of control.

In a bad moment, you make a wrong choice. Or maybe it’s the loved one who hits the ice patch but you’re in the passenger seat of that loved one’s life, spinning out beside them because they tried drugs, rejected Jesus, gambled until they lost it all, cheated on their spouse, or faced a tragedy not of their making.

Maybe you or your loved one made good choices – to serve the Lord on the mission field or the inner city or a small town parish and tragedy still hit – they were raped, kidnapped, subjected to lies over a foolish congregational conflict, fired because they wouldn’t play a game of the world.

I think about Kayla Mueller’s letter home telling her family her biggest regret is that they are suffering, too, because she had found that Jesus was there with her. In the suffering, in the spin, there was Jesus.

The whole truth is that Jesus is there in the midst of the spin – when life is out of control and even when we are out of control. The moment I started to lose the panic yesterday was when I turned into the spin. I stopped trying to control the moment and my response. I let myself freak out. It’s the same advice we give drivers in the snow here in New England – don’t fight the spin. Turn into it.

It is right and good to love Jesus, follow Him, obey Him, trust His word, and make godly choices. But, if your entire theology is based on those things bringing about a right and safe result, if your theology is one of control, you’re headed for a full-on spin out when the icy patch of persecution arrives on our shores.

The Christians kidnapped by ISIS have lost all earthly control over their lives. They can, perhaps, manage their responses, but if they are tortured, maybe not even that. Still, I believe, like Kayla testified, they’ll find that Jesus is present in the spin.

Paul writes in 2 Timothy 2:13, “If we are faithless, he remains faithful – for he cannot deny himself.” I was not full of faith yesterday; I was full of panic but Jesus remained present with me. He was more real than the guardrail and in the midst of the panic, I knew He would be my spiritual guardrail no matter how I reacted in the midst of the spin.

We have every reason to trust Jesus. In the days to come, when the world goes into a full on spin, our theology will expand and will we see that even when we lose control, Jesus is there.

If these post are an encouragement to you, please consider forwarding them to friends through email or social media. Let them know what the blog is about by sending them the link to the I’m In page or the Disturber of Hobbits page. And please let me know if there are topics you’d like to see addressed in an upcoming post by reaching out through the Contact Me page!

Spinning Out of Control – http://t.co/ScqAHZnoBn Where is God in the midst of the spin? #amwriting #amwritingfaith #ISIS #persecutedchurch

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) February 26, 2015

**BTW, I’m fine. I have bruising and pain from a seatbelt injury but I’m home resting and icing my wounds (ice, of all things, right? That’s what caused the injury in the first place!) The car is drive-able for now. Rob is, actually, fine.

One Jesus Story You May Have Missed

Why did He start with fishermen?

Have you ever wondered that?

We get so accustomed to the Jesus story, we don’t stop to ask, why? What story was Jesus telling us by heading down to the docks to find His first disciples?

He could have started anywhere. There were shepherds, rabbis, merchants, musicians, poets, and innkeepers but he went to the shore in search of His rock, Peter. He communicated to us with this strategic choice. Something about the task ahead – the task of fishing for men.

I did a little research into what traits make a good fisherman. One article mentioned four that impressed me. This writer said good fishermen are curious, consistent, persistent and good note-takers. Look at those characteristics. They speak to a task that requires creativity, experimentation, endurance, faithfulness, and a willingness to analyze and learn.

This business to which we’re called – this fishing for men – this kingdom building – requires calling, passion, and commitment. There is so much hardship involved in making a living as a fisherman, a person has to either love it or be committed to it for a higher purpose. Hauling in a loaded net or reeling in a desired catch are moments, brief, fleeting, rewarding moments preceded and followed by hours of backbreaking work, mind-numbing tedium, and crazy-making solitude.

Fishermen are smart in ways the world often discounts. They persist when others head back to shore. They brave the cold, the waves, and the labor but they see the wonders of our Creator others miss. Frequently misunderstood and underestimated, their efforts sometimes yield little result so they need the faith to wake up the next day and lower their nets again.

Can you hear the story Jesus told when He went to the docks for disciples?

It hasn’t gotten any easier – fishing for men. Perhaps you fish from the pulpit or in a preschool. Perhaps you fish in a foreign land or in the nursery of your own home. You may fish through the creative arts or through the business world through teaching or through healing. You may haul in nets laden with fish or angle for one catch at a time. It’s all hard.

So, sometimes you ask yourself: what if it comes to nothing?

What if, after all the hard work, sacrifice, self-denial, and risk, the result collapses beneath the weight of your hopes and expectations? Because, that can happen. That’s a real possibility if you’re attempting to make that huge dream appear – to live out His calling on your life.

So then, you have to ask yourself another question, right?: what else would I be doing?

How else would I spend my time? If I lay aside the work on this great vision, if I set aside my nets, what pursuits would fill my days? Then, if they appeal to you more – well, go do those things and choose to be someone who finds contentment in accomplishment. Let it be written on your grave “Here lies one who achieved every small thing she set out to do.”

But if that’s not an epitaph you can live with, if you would prefer that your eulogy contain the phrase, “Yes, there was a measure of failure in his pursuits but every day he aimed at greater things than many dare to dream,” then get back to the work. Cast off. Try again.

Bury fear, self-pity, and lesser goals in the shallow grave beneath that first headstone. For you were called to the impossible work even now waiting to be attempted just there beneath your restless hands.

And remember this, even Peter wasn’t the Rock until Jesus. Jesus chose fishermen so we’d understand the nature of the task – then, He transformed them just as He transforms us.

We have every reason to hope – not in ourselves – but in the One who had a story to tell in His choices down at the docks. What story is He choosing to tell by choosing you?

One Jesus Story You May Have Missed http://t.co/iIKc0VbBAb #amwriting #amenduring #fishersofmen #livingthedream

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) February 24, 2015

You Brood of Vipers Gathered at the Shore – Hear This

It isn’t hard to condemn the slaughter of 21 Christians by ISIS in Libya.

It isn’t hard to say we should intercede for those who love them and pray for those in the path of the next blade.

It also isn’t hard to say we should love this masked enemy, pray for them, and forgive them.

It’s not hard to write and share blog posts spreading the word about this anti-Christian terror and it isn’t hard to prophesy that more martyrdom lies ahead.

Here’s what’s hard – living for Jesus every day.

Reading God’s word, believing it, and obeying it even on a dreary weekday in America when there’s no immediate threat at the door, this is hard. Hard is dealing with the unmasked enemy in my daily life – forgiving a coworker who gossips about me, loving a sibling who keeps the family in perpetual dramatic crisis, serving a spouse who repeatedly disappoints, interceding for a wayward child turning her back on her upbringing. Loving sacrificially in Jesus’ name – this is hard!

Telling the truth in America. This is hard. But, it was no easier for John the Baptist when he prepared the way for Jesus the first time. He spoke the truth to the crowds, to those in religious power, to the leaders of the day.

They tried to come to him, to join in on the movement in an outward fashion, hoping, perhaps, to win the favor of the people by making a show of unity. But John called them out:

“when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham. Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees. Every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

That was no more popular a speech then than it is now, but it continues to need to be said. John prepared the way of the Lord’s first appearance with his life, his words, and his death.  By our lives, our words, our obedience, and sometimes by our spilled blood, we prepare the way for Jesus’ return.

Our obedience can pave the way for someone else’s repentance.

Through the Internet and social media, we have all gathered on the beach at Libya around these twenty-one souls, martyred in the name of Jesus. Easy to condemn the act. Easy to mourn those whose blood seeped into the sand that day. Easy to speak in theory about forgiving murderers.

But John the Baptist stands beside us on that shore and even today he sees Pharisees in the crowd. Even today he says, WHO WARNED YOU TO FLEE FROM THE WRATH TO COME? BEAR FRUIT IN KEEPING WITH REPENTANCE!

You who say this murder was wrong, do you remember Jesus’ words recorded in Matthew 5:21-22?  “You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to the hell of fire.”

You who admire these twenty-one for their obedience to Christ, do you obey the words of Jesus in Luke 9:23 to take up your cross every day right where you are?

You who speak in theory of intercession and forgiveness of the masked enemy – do you intercede for the unmasked aggressors in your own life?

Many of us have slipped into an easy discipleship, a wide path, a lazy faith and we think that clicking “Share” or “Like” on another story about those in the arena earns us a seat at the banquet table.

We need to listen to John who prepared the way for Jesus the first time as we prepare the way for Jesus’ return when he said: “I baptize you with water for repentance, but he who is coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into the barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” Matthew 3:7-10 ESV

And lest you think that Jesus softened the message John had preached in preparation for His ministry read this: “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the gospel of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.” Mark 1:14-15 ESV

Repent does not mean – “be sorry.” Repent does not mean – “feel really, really bad.” Repent means to change, to be changed, to think differently after, to turn and act in a different way. This isn’t about legalism or earning our way to salvation by our behavior or holiness living. This is about the fact that Jesus said if you love me, you’ll do what I command.

Do you love Jesus? Repent, believe in the gospel, bear fruit in keeping with repentance. If we do not remind ourselves that kingdom building is an urgent and immediate business about which we should be busy – He will allow our enemies to remind us.

Who warned YOU to flee from the coming wrath? Bear fruit in keeping with repentance!

Stand on the shore of the waters and hear the voice of the one crying out in the wilderness to us now: Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord!

Are you a voice in the wilderness? It is time we all were.

If you believe this is a message we need to hear, please consider it sharing it with others through email, social media, or printing it out and giving it to others. I encourage you to share this in any way you feel the Lord leads. If you would like prayer for yourself or those around you, let me know

You Brood of Vipers Gathered at the Shore – Hear This! http://t.co/jPjFqEx80a #21Copts #PersecutedChurch #amwriting #amspeakingout

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) February 21, 2015

A Bad Diagnosis

Three times, I’ve been relieved to hear a bad diagnosis.

Only people who have struggled with mysterious symptoms that seem to have no treatment, no abatement, no cure will understand how a bad diagnosis can be good news.

Years ago, my husband’s life was, for five years, like a real life medical drama. He battled a mystery illness and pursued courses of treatment that created more problems than they cured.

Whenever we prepared to visit a new doctor to receive test results, we were more devastated to have no answers than we would be if we were receiving news of a life-threatening disease with a name. When at last he met a doctor with the correct hard diagnosis and an effective challenging treatment, we were relieved.

Frustration and despair could easily have been added to his symptom list before that. I experienced the same maddening aggravation in my late teens before I was diagnosed with lupus. Enduring treatments that don’t touch the disease is a trial in its own right. When a doctor named my condition, I was re-energized to battle it.

My college psychology professor used to say “the facts are our friends; truth is always on our side no matter what that truth is.” An inaccurate diagnosis, a wrong course of treatment, false hopes – these are the enemies – not the truth.

My husband and I used to enjoy watching House. That’s the medical drama about the damaged but brilliant doctor who solves medical mysteries that elude other medical professionals. He was usually the last hope for his patients and because of that, unlike other medical shows where a patient is devastated to receive a dire diagnosis; these patients welcomed the life-altering news.

Why? The patients have suffered with symptoms they know are real. They’ve tried, sometimes, dozens of other avenues for treatment and cure. More often than not, the incorrect treatment was not only ineffective for solving their problem; it created more problems and sometimes threatened their lives.

The correct diagnosis, even if it is a terrible one, is better than not knowing the truth.

This is why most Christians were relieved to learn the condemning news, the devastating diagnosis, that we are sinners with no hope of saving ourselves.

You see, we knew something was wrong inside us – something life threatening.

We suffered from the symptoms but could not find the root cause no matter where we looked – and we looked. We pursued all kinds of false diagnoses. We tried every self-help treatment available and followed every healer who told us they knew the cure for what ailed us. Those false cures were not only ineffective; they usually created more problems, some of them life-threatening.

Then, one day, someone told us they knew what was wrong. That person may have exhibited compassion or they may have had the bedside manner of Dr. House, we didn’t care. They knew the truth about our condition – we were sinners with no hope of saving ourselves facing a sentence of death.

This was one of the three times in my life I welcomed a bad diagnosis. The news that I am a sinner incapable of arranging my own salvation.

Rather than be offended or devastated by the news, we were relieved to hear the truth that somehow we already knew. We’d suffered the symptoms of our sinful condition for so long we were ready for the cure.

And THAT was the good news. The cure is available for us. The cure of trusting Jesus Christ with our lives.

No longer did we have to search bookstores and drugstores, gurus and shamans, backrooms or bedrooms for treatments that only quelled the symptoms but did nothing to touch the disease. Now we were free to pursue the effective treatment available through an eternal relationship with the God of the universe.

The Great Physician has a 100% survival rate among those who are willing to receive the truth and trust His prescription for their lives.

When is a bad diagnosis good news? When it leads to a cure. Jesus is the cure for what ails you. Are you ready to take the cure? Do you want to be healed?

**I have been healed of lupus going on 22 years now. My husband was healed of that rare kidney disease. We have both been healed through our relationship with Jesus Christ. That doesn’t mean life is free of challenges. In the recent past, we’ve faced other hard medical diagnoses. We’ve learned to endure and learn to thrive even in troubled times. I’ve learned some effective strategies for hard times by studying David’s time on the run from Saul. I’d love to share it with you. Contact me. We’ll talk.

A Bad Diagnosis http://t.co/qWnEjBrdbw #Jesus #salvation #Christianity #GoodNews

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) February 19, 2015