Tuesday, July 26, 2016

The Grace of Closed Doors

[The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, MI. These posts are reflections on Sunday's message, which can be heard here each week: http://myencounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]

I once applied for a job I just knew was going to be great. It was right around the time I was graduating from college, my experience was in line with what they were looking for, and it was a field I was very much interested in entering. Then, without so much as a phone interview, I was told I was not selected for the position. It was disappointing, confusing, and disheartening. So I carried on and applied for a slew of different jobs, mostly not hearing back at all, or if I did it was only to tell me I was not selected.  No after no kept coming, and I couldn’t understand why.

In Revelation 3 we read the letter to the church of Philadelphia. For these Christians, the “no” was likely accompanied by the physical shutting of a door. Instead of being allowed to continue to worship in the synagogue with the Jews, with the people they had grown up with and loved, their decision to follow Jesus meant the synagogue doors were literally shut for them. The closing of those doors probably had an impact on their family relationships, their social circles, and their very way of everyday life. 


While we may not know what it’s like to be barred from a place of worship that was integral to how we viewed ourselves, we’ve likely all had situations where doors seemed to be shutting in our faces. Whether it’s rejections from job applications, frustrating situations with children that never seem to get better, or relationships that keep ending, they all have their own disappointments that go along with them. Jesus’ words to the church in Philadelphia ring true for us as well. He reminds the people that he sees them. Jesus knows what it’s like to be rejected, and he is with us in our deep pain. As he continues on, he tells them, “I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut.” It’s his way of reminding the people that wherever their story has them right now, it is not done being written yet.

When we hit closed doors, it’s easy to fall into thinking that God is unkind or unloving. After all, if he really cared about us, wouldn’t he be opening the doors that we want him to open? And of course, sometimes he does--we get into the dream school, we meet a wonderful man or woman, we succeed financially--but in those times, we also have to remember that it’s not because of anything particularly awesome we do, it’s because of his grace. At the same time, the closed doors are their own kind of grace, even though it might be a painful one. Closed doors can hurt, but they can allow us to turn and find another way, the way God is opening. 

Months after I applied for the job that seemed so great, I found myself applying for a different job at the same company. While I wasn’t as confident that I was a fit for this new role I was applying for, I sent in my resume anyway--and over a month later, I accepted their offer. After being in my new job for a while, I realized that the original position I had applied for would not have been a good fit for my skills and personality, but my new role was. At the time I couldn’t see why God was letting me be turned down for all those jobs, but now I can truly say I’m grateful for it. Often times we can’t see these truths when we’re stuck in the mess of constant “no” without the glimmer of a “yes” anywhere in sight, which is why it’s so powerful to be able to look back on those times when we finally can see the closed doors for the good that they were. 

As much as this is true in our own individual circumstances, it was true for the church in Philadelphia, and it’s true for Encounter Church in Kentwood, Michigan in the year 2016. From the time that Pastor Dirk and a small team of people originally had a vision for a new church, God has continued to open doors for us in a variety of ways. At the same time, he’s also closed doors for us as a church, not because he’s unkind or unloving, but because he had a different way for us to go. Although the church in Philadelphia was comparatively small and of little influence compared to other cities, God kept it thriving because he had a mission for it fulfill. For those of us who consider Encounter our spiritual home, it is good for us to consider how we can be a part of what God has said “yes” to for our church. He has opened doors for us to serve our community in unique ways, and it’s our privilege and our responsibility to use those opportunities well. As we continue to grow and change, what are other ways we can continue to look for the doors God is opening, or closing, out of his grace? And are we willing to walk through those doors when we see them?


[Brianna DeWitt believes in Jesus, surrounding yourself with good people, and that desserts are best when they involve chocolate and peanut butter. She writes about faith, growing up, and whatever else pops into her head on her own blog, and tweets (largely about food) at @bwitt722.]

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

The Weighty Truth

[The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, MI. These posts are reflections on Sunday's message, which can be heard here each week: http://myencounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]

“You've overcome too much to just die of lung cancer.” I couldn't meet the eyes of my good friend, who had spoken these words after I had admitted to caving into smoking. Again. She had caught me completely off guard, using the words that were on everyone's minds, but few dared to utter. Die. Cancer. It stung, but deep down I knew the discomfort was right and just, and I knew what I had to do to change things.

I wish constantly that I could be as courageous as this friend of mine, but I take comfort in the fact that I am not alone in my struggle to be truthful towards others. It's not necessarily that we lie and say something dishonest; on the contrary, usually what causes the most damage is what we fail to say. We sugarcoat; we dismiss; we excuse. Anything to avoid our responsibility to the truth. This is not what God wants for us.

In his letter to Thyatira, God addresses the city's evasiveness of correcting injustice. Like other letters compiled in the book of Revelation, the letter is tailored specifically to the church in question. Historically, Thyatira's main purpose was to forge bronze armor for the Roman army. In Rev. 2:18, God compares himself to fire and to bronze to provide an analogy applicable to the recipients:

Photo credit to Jakub Skafiraik
“These are the words of the Son of God, whose eyes are like blazing fire and whose feet are like burnished bronze.”

It is here we are reminded that our loving and gracious God is also the Lord of truth and justice. The truth is unshakable and unmovable, like bronze. Its fire might burn, but it also refines. God urges us not to try to change His truth, but instead, to allow it to change us.

Like my friend who called me out when I reeked of cigarettes, God is unafraid to call us out on our sinfulness. He is also unafraid to call us out on not calling each other out. Revelation 2:20 describes Thyatira's toleration of a false prophet, a prophet dangerous enough to be referenced to Jezebel, the wicked queen from the Old Testament. Jezebel had introduced Baal worship to Israel, polluting its people with untruthful beliefs. The false prophet of Thyatira likewise led the people astray as they participated in adultery and other sacrilegious immoralities. The guild of bronze workers, which had been meant to serve as a type of union, was transformed into a cult. Just as the injustices we continue to see plague our world anger us, they also anger God. In Revelation 2:21-23, God states that wickedness requires correction and repentance:

“I have given her time to repent of her immorality, but she is unwilling. So I will cast her on a bed of suffering, and I will make those who commit adultery with her suffer intensely, unless they repent of her ways. I will strike her children dead. Then all the churches will know that I am he who searches hearts and minds, and I will repay each of you according to your deeds.”


Admittedly, this passage is troubling to read. We prefer to cling to the rainbows and sunshine Jesus who radiates love and compassion and dismiss the God who seeks justice. We forget that God's enforcement of the truth stems from His love for us. 1 Corinthians 13:6 reminds us that “love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.” God indeed calls us to love one another, but this does not equivocate to condoning evil.

Although the citizens of Thyatira were aware of their wrongdoings, they did not hold one another accountable, allowing each other to delve deeper into sin. As a Christian community, we are responsible not only for our own morality, but for each other's. The purpose of fellowship is not merely to encourage one another, but to encourage one another to go in the right direction. As I write this, I feel hypocritical, as I am guilty of sacrificing truth at the expense of my love for others. Fear of destroying a friendship, of hurting someone's feelings, or of coming off as condescending or judgmental, often prevent us from stepping in when a fellow sister or brother has wandered down a dangerous path. This is not to say that grace and toleration are not important; they are a crucial component to embodying the love of Christ. But grace and toleration only make up for one half of what it means to love someone. Love absent of truth is of no help to anyone. Love absent of truth allows your co-worker to sink deeper into a porn addiction. It allows your roommate with an eating disorder to avoid seeking help, or permits your son or daughter to repeatedly fall into unhealthy relationships.

Photo credit to Jenelle Ball
Receiving the truth can be painful, and perhaps telling it even more so. I have no doubt that it hurt my friend a great deal to look me in the eyes and tell me that what I was doing could eventually kill me. The truth is heavy: it forces us to pause and evaluate, to correct and repent. My friend embodied the love of Christ not by sparing me of the truth, but by commingling the truth with grace. She reminded me that I had overcome worse and that God had been helped me to prevail in the past. She reminded me that she believed in me. The truth is a powerful, weighty force, but I know that she didn't speak those words to drag me down. She used the truth to pull me forward.  

[Abby Hocking is a senior at Calvin College, where she studies psychology and writing. She is employed at Pine Rest Christian Mental Services and plans to become a therapist. Abby is a proud literature nerd, running addict, and puppy enthusiast. She thanks God daily for her wonderful family, her loving friends, and for Twenty One Pilots.]

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Overcome

 [The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, MI. These posts are reflections on Sunday's message, which can be heard here each week: http://myencounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]

I stood next to the hospital bed where my dad was dying (this won’t be a funny blog – sorry!), and the prayer group from my mom’s church stood around us. His lungs weren’t working at all anymore, and they were praying for miraculous healing. In that moment, I have to admit, I wasn’t praying at all. At noon I had been having a normal day, teaching and shouting at kids in the hallway four states away. Then a phone call, a ride home, plane tickets, connecting flights, and now an ICU bed with my family and the prayer team; I wasn’t in a great place and so instead of praying, I was thinking of the absurdity of their prayers. (Please know that in retrospect, I am so thankful for the ministry of those anonymous people who had gathered to stand in that gap.)

My dad had been in a coma for a week, as a result of complications after what should have been a simple surgery. Doctors were scrambling for explanations of why his lungs were failing, why so many body systems were breaking down; all of my confidence was in the medicine. I felt like if God couldn’t work through the medicine and the doctors, we were pretty much done. In the moment, I found their prayers frustrating, and their presence intrusive. They left, we cried, he died. No miracle.

There were lots of quiet hours that followed that day. We didn’t have loud kids yet, and we moved to a new city soon after; I didn’t even have a job or friends to get in the way of my thoughts.


I wasn’t angry with God about my dad’s death – I knew that my dad loved Jesus and trusted Him for his salvation, and I have confident hope that he is full of delight in His presence. But my cynical moments with the prayer team revealed a deep issue in my heart that couldn’t be ignored. Did I believe God could do anything? Did I trust Him? 


I had to wrestle with the question: Who had I been trusting to save my dad, medicine or God? And who do I trust to take care of me, myself or God?

Sometimes big moments reveal the underlying truths that define our daily lives. I began to see that I trusted myself, and my logic and wisdom. I trusted education and money to make my world secure and safe, I trusted my own plan for the future (built on toothpicks of Biblical wisdom, but held together with the glue of human wisdom), to make me happy. I trusted God to take me home at the end…but I trusted Him for very little else.

In my very passive pursuit of God (showing up on Sundays, trying to be good, and occasionally remembering that I claimed to have quiet time and I should dig out my Bible and look at the words inside for a few minutes), I had reduced Him, and then added beliefs in culture’s definitions and methods of happiness and fullness – at least, the ones that were acceptable for a Christian. I knew so little of God (because I had not spent time seeking to know Him!), and so much of culture (because it was so available and easy and unchallenging), God had become small in my life.

This Sunday, Pastor Dirk shared from Jesus’ letter to the church at Pergamum in Revelation 2:12-17. Jesus was calling them out for this same issue – for believing in God, but then adding on other beliefs that rivaled God until their faith was unrecognizable and unremarkable. They believed in Jesus and participated in a faith community; but their inclusion of other beliefs and worship to fulfill their desires revealed their distrust in God. He might not be enough, so they supplemented Him with cultures’ wisdom and practices. They had adapted to the world around them, until they were in a place where they needed a rebuke from Jesus! Their faith became unrecognizable as they added choice after choice to their belief in Jesus Christ as their Savior.

“Compromising with the world begins with a lack of trust that God will see you through.”

That quote from Pastor Dirk reminds me of Eve, that original lady and her struggle with trust – and fruit. She lived in full communion with God, and enjoyed the fullness of His creation. She had everything she needed for the most joy-filled, abundant life. No sin, no death, no brokenness, no shattered dreams or broken hearts, no separation – just peace and contentment and fellowship with her Maker. As she discussed the only thing God had asked her not to do (eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil - fruit she wasn’t supposed to want and definitely didn’t need) with Satan, her trust in God faltered. She began to doubt that God was good, wondering if He was holding back something desirable, depriving her of what she began to imagine was better than everything she already had in Him. Her trust in God shrank, and she compromised and tried the fruit. Her doubt led to sin. See James 1:13-18 for a New Testament description of this same thought process that we can get so caught in!

In those dark months after my father died I wrestled for trust in God; He whispered to my soul, inviting me to know Him in new ways I never had, showing me His faithful love. We are on a journey, and He reveals more and more places where I have compromised, where I have tried to merge faith with worldly wisdom, where I have tried to bend His plan to my own. I’m nowhere near the end of the path, but I trust Him so much more deeply now than I would have if He had not shaken my sleepy, small faith awake!

In the letter to Pergamum, Jesus has some encouragement to those who “overcome.” Way back in Genesis, Jacob (the grandson of Abraham, father of the twelve tribes of Israel) wrestles with God – literally (Genesis 32). Jacob hangs on, wrestling all night until the light begins to dawn. He never pins God, or gets Him to tap out; yet God rewards him with a new name for “overcoming.” It’s striking that God declared Jacob an overcomer simply for remaining in the struggle, and holding on to Him. Jacob wasn’t perfect, he didn’t have exceptional character or morals, he just wouldn’t give up or disengage from God. Might we also stay in the fight, clinging to God, letting Him prove faithful even in our doubts, that we might be called overcomers!

Stay in the fight. Ask God to open your eyes to the places where lack of trust creates compromise with the world in your life.




[Robin Bupp is married to Caleb, and they are from many places east of the Mississippi (but are calling Michigan home for the foreseeable future). A former high school science teacher, Robin is slowly turning the two Bupp kiddos into tiny nerds while they teach her lots of things, especially humility and patience.]