Close Your Eyes and Picture This

[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: https://www.encounterchurch.org/messages/]

“If you close your eyes and picture Samson…”, Dirk said.. I did, though I never had before, but I did as I was told. I believe most people who did what they were told Sunday morning came up with a similar image, that of a buff, not-bad-looking, bodybuilding male human hunk of a species.

Photo by EverypixelSISE Stock Image Search Engine on Unsplash

Not Dirk. He said something like, “I think Samson was a soft, skinny, but sneaky son of a gun who apparently spent a little too much time over the Philistine border when he was supposed to be protecting HIS land and HIS people from the Philistines.” Everyone was so surprised by Samson’s feats of strength. So he probably didn’t have the appearance of superhuman strength.

Most of my knowledge of the Samson stories center around his powerful acts, killing men and animals with brute force and bare hands. Sounds like a barbell-lifting border guard to me. I just can't picture small, soft, skinny. The rest of my knowledge of Samson stories center around the battle of the lies between him and the infamous Delilah.

Delilah. We were not asked to visualize her, but my eyes were opened this week to yet another part of the story I missed. The money. She exchanged vital information for so much financial gain. Foolish, wicked, selfish. How could she? Samson loved her.

Dirk says, Delilah wasn’t Samson’s first rodeo, and certainly not his first female Philistine romance. I missed all that prior to Sunday. So I went back and read Samson’s story in full. I now give anyone who is reading this full permission to stop reading right now and go read Judges 13 - 16. Read it all, remembering that those chapters are not written “based on a true story.” They are the true story. Now go read…

Samson was appointed a judge following a line of not-so-good judges who led the people of Israel. He was set apart from the time he was conceived. A Nazarite Vow required he would stay away from all things grape, all things dead, and never ever cut his hair. He was a judge in the time of war between countries. It appears that he did not stay away from the women and wine or out of the warring nation of the Philistines. He was certainly strong in body, though may not have looked like it, but he was so very weak in character. Samson’s life story is easy to point fingers at and say, “How foolish, unhealthy, selfish, self-destructive.” His interactions with Delilah made me think, “Really, Samson? Are you that stupid? Why do you keep going back to her? Does your love make you blind to someone who is clearly just using you?”

I know people who have or are making life choices like Samson, like Delilah. It is so easy to to see the stupid in someone else. True confessions: I am someone who has made life choices that are foolish, wicked, selfish, and self-destructive. In fact I refer to one whole season of my life as “The Stupid Year.” My story did not end there, thankfully. Nor did Samson’s in Gaza, bound in bronze and blindly grinding grain.

Because God knew everything about Samson. He knew what Samson would say before he said it. Samson could not escape from the Spirit of God, even in dark places. God made every part of Samson's skinny, soft, delicate inner parts and knit him together in his once barren mother’s womb. Samson was wonderfully complex because God’s workmanship is so wonderful. Every day of Samson’s life was recorded in God's book.

Insert your name for Samson’s name in this paragraph or in all of Psalm 139 because it's true of you too. Samson belonged to God. You belong to God. Samson knew God well enough to ask for the return of the strong-man gift. Samson knew where that gift came from, that he needed God’s favor even for this final act of revenge on his enemies, knowing he would lose his own life in the process. And that true story is recorded for us to look at, listen to, learn from.

We cannot understand the mystery, the magnificence, the majesty of God Almighty. We can, however, trust that the strength, love, and wisdom of God will always overcome the weakness of men and women. Because God is always good. And he love us so - those he made in his very own image. May we know God in adversity and not forget him in success. May we never forget His forgiveness is limitless and His provision for us is perfect.

Now close your eyes and picture God.

[Laura DeGroot likes to laugh out loud, drink good coffee and eat delicious food...with Jesus her family and friends. She has lived from the West to the East coast but Grand Rapids is home as of two whole years. As The Caffeinated Woman, she speaks to groups of people about how ordinary life is profoundly better knowing an Extraordinary God, and works at Art Of The Table. And she loves books and just published her first one.]

Belonging in the Family of God

[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://encounterchurch.org/messages] 

A Facebook post caught my eye recently—it revealed a level of vulnerability I don’t often see on social media. It simply read, “Even though I’m not in high school anymore, it still hurts not to be invited to the party.” Ouch. I think we’ve all been there. Rejected by people we thought were friends. Passed over by those we long to be with. On the outside looking in with no way to enter that inner circle.

It’s even worse when those doing the rejecting are family, the people who are supposed to care about you the most, and want only the best for you. “Not good enough” might be stamped on our forehead. I have someone in my extended family that has, over the years, let me know that she does not really want to spend time with me. I have yet to figure out why. It may be that some of the things I do embarrass her, which to be fair, my children might say the same. But twenty years later, it still hurts. We all carry bits of that kind of baggage if we are honest about it.

The woman at the well in John 4 in the Bible carried that baggage as well. Rejected by multiple husbands, the women of the town, and society in general, she comes to the well alone. Jesus meets her in her pain and loneliness—he sees her in a way her community does not. I love that Jesus offers himself to her as living water—water that moves and cleanses. Years ago, when debating the merits of showers versus tub baths, my son declared, “Who wants a tub bath? It’s like sitting in your own filth.” Being a confirmed tub-bather, I continued the debate, but I understood his point. Moving water washes dirt away and with its continuing movement keeps washing us clean.

One of my favorite songs contains the lyrics, “You make me new, you are making me new.” God’s living water, Jesus, washes us clean, and continues to work each day to move us closer to being people after God’s own heart. I keep coming back to this thought: again and again God comes back for his people. He comes to gather in the rejected, the broken hearted, the depressed, the weird ones, the estranged, the outsiders. The ones who feel entitled, or swear too much, those who whine, the pushy ones, the resentful. In other words, all of us.

This is so not me, and probably, if you are truthful, not you either. We want to believe God loves and hates all the same people we do. But back again and again God’s grace taps us on the shoulder and says, “I want YOU” like a cosmic Uncle Sam, not pulling us into an army, but back into his family, his chosen ones, his dearly loved kiddos. He wants that so much that he became flesh and blood and entered into our humanity. He washes us clean and we become sons and daughters in the family of God.

[Sandy Navis is happily retired and spends her days doing pretty much whatever she wants to do. She is a firm believer in the power of laughter, singing while doing the dishes, crazy dancing while cleaning house, and eating chocolate every day. Sandy has three grandkids, who she loves to talk about even more than breadmaking.]

When Following Jesus Isn't Easy

[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 can’t remember a time when I didn’t know about Jesus. Growing up this way was an immense blessing in many respects, but leaves my answer to “Why do you follow Jesus?” feeling a bit flat. As a kid I followed him because that’s what my parents did and what I was taught to do at church and at school, and in those environments, it wasn’t a very difficult thing to do most of the time. I prayed, read my Bible, and tried to be nice to people. It was a seemingly simple matter to follow Jesus, yet the longer I did and the more serious about it I got, I came to realize it’s definitely not such an easy thing after all. To really mean it when I say I follow Jesus demands my life be arranged and lived differently than if I were merely living for myself, and learning to look more like Jesus is a process that’s never fully complete.

Photo by Tim Trad on Unsplash

In Luke 22 we find we’re not the only ones who struggle to follow God well. After the Passover meal, Jesus took some of his disciples with him into the garden where he went to pray. Yet his disciples weren’t even able to stay awake while he prayed, even though Jesus had warned them against falling into temptation. Meanwhile, Jesus prayed, “Let this cup be taken from me.” I find those words so fascinating and so convicting. He knew he was about to accomplish the reason he came to earth. Yet while Jesus had the audacity to pray for something different than what he wanted to happen, he trusted his Father enough to know that those plans had to be accomplished and would ultimately serve the best possible purpose.

This is where we so often run into trouble. It’s not overly difficult to say we believe in God and we want to strive to follow Jesus in the best way possible. Suddenly though, when we’re faced with choices where God’s way doesn’t line up with our own, those words don’t come so readily. Perhaps, like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, we know saying yes to God will lead us to a place of deep pain, struggle, and anguish. Or maybe following God means continuing to say no to dreams we’ve held tightly for so long. 

"Not my will, but thy will" are some of the hardest words we might ever say. 

While it’s true following Jesus starts with one big decision, after that one, it involves many, many more. Every day, sometimes every hour or every minute, we’re faced with decisions of whether to obey our own will or God’s will. Those decisions may be obvious, or may be complex and hard to discern at first. When we dig deep, the core of our question is whether or not we truly believe following Jesus is worth it. Do we trust God to work out his purpose for us, even if it may not be what we want, or may not seem like it’s best for us? Or do we say we follow Jesus, while all the while doubting if he can really do what he says he can, for us, in our specific situation? 

It’s nice to think these matters will eventually all get wrapped up tidily, as solid evidence we can point to and say, “God is good, because he did ________.” I love those kinds of stories, and they absolutely have to be told. Other stories have to be told as well though, the ones where God hasn’t wrapped things up tidily yet, and we don’t know if he ever will. In my own life, it’s looked like friendships that went wrong and I’ve never been able to figure out where or why. It’s looked like prayers prayed for years on end with absolutely no tangible answer. It’s looked liked dead ends to what I thought could be amazing opportunities. So my answer of why I follow Jesus isn’t based on big, flashy things he’s done in my life (though I’d argue the many small things add up to big ones), but on the basis of who he is and who he’s transforming me to become. Jesus trusted a plan that was bigger than his own, and the closer we follow him, the more we’ll learn the same. 

[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.]

Go and Do. Go and Do.

[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] 

Have you ever thought that Jesus’ parables—the stories that he tells—can sometimes be a bit dramatic? I mean, imagine that you’re in a foreign land, just passing through, and you find yourself in a particularly dangerous part of town. You’re already nervous because you know that people are often robbed in the area, and then you come across a naked, half-dead body. What would you do? This is the premise of Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan, and I’ll admit that at first read it can seem a bit far-fetched.

But, just as every story in the Bible points to Jesus, so too does Jesus’ own parable point to the truth of who he is. Jesus is the one who came into a hostile land, was cruelly murdered in it, and then pledged to return in order to redeem the very people who executed him.

Jesus lived out an impossibly far-fetched, radical love, and he challenged us to go and do the same. While some of us may cringe at the thought of bandaging the seeping wounds of a stranger, especially a stranger encountered in a dangerous and foreign place, there can be many permutations of this work.

I don’t think we necessarily have to risk personal safety to be like the Good Samaritan, but we have to risk something for the gospel. Perhaps it’s social danger. Perhaps we befriend the person who everyone thinks is a little strange, or socially awkward, or too different. Perhaps the risk is actually inviting that neighbor or co-worker to church. Perhaps we spend our money differently and live in a smaller home or drive an older car so that we have more money to give away, all the while enduring the judgement from colleagues who take nicer vacations or live in a more desirable zip code. Perhaps we stand up for a stranger who is suffering under discrimination, or follow the holy spirit’s prompting to post something risky but true to social media.

The Lord asked us to go and do. Go and do.

Sometimes the risk might be our own personal satisfaction. Through his church, my dad has been delivering Thanksgiving meal baskets to families who qualify for a free meal through a local program. My dad purchases the “traditional” (to him) Thanksgiving dinner items—a turkey with a disposable roasting pan, seasonings, vegetables and stuffing, rolls, and a pie, and drops the meal off (with cooking instructions in case any of the food is unfamiliar) at the family’s home. A few years ago, my dad dropped off a basket to a family who opened the door, took the basket, and slammed the door shut without saying a single word. My dad was a bit surprised by the reception, but he got back into his car and continued delivering baskets of food around the community. Jesus didn’t tell us to offer kindness, hospitality, or gospel to people who express gratitude in a manner that fulfills our own cultural expectations.

The Lord asked us to go and do. Go and do.

It can be tempting to ask what the minimum threshold is for living a selfless life. What’s the minimum commitment I can make to charitable giving, volunteering, hosting, or sharing? What’s the least I can do to be neighborly? The challenge, according to Jesus, is not to limit ourselves to the minimum, but rather to push ourselves to the maximum. What’s the greatest sacrifice I can possibly make of my finances, my time, my home, my influence, my knowledge, my resources? As Dirk preached on Sunday, people are not an interruption or an inconvenience. People are an invitation to love as Jesus loves.

After all, Jesus is the only one who went and did, perfectly.

[Kristin vanEyk loves partnering with the people and the mission of Encounter Church. Learn more about Encounter or listen to Sunday's message here.]

You're Not What You Do

[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 like to stay busy, whether it’s work, spending time with friends, or volunteering at church. But I also like to relax, so I enjoy spending time reading, watching Netflix, or sometimes just scrolling through social media. It’s the social media scrolling that can get me in trouble though. Amidst the gorgeous sunsets and cute kittens, I often come across photos of things people have done lately. It could be climbing a mountain, cooking a fancy meal, or woodcrafting a piece of furniture, but it seems like other people are capable of getting so much more done than I am. Any scrap of contentment I had about my own life can dissipate in a matter of seconds when I play the comparison game. 

Photo by mauro mora on Unsplash

What I often forget is that my worth isn’t based on my productivity or achievements. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul was writing from a jail cell. In our modern way of viewing things, he was being the absolute opposite of productive--he didn’t have the option to get anything done besides what he could do from his jail cell (which is to say, not very much). Yet, in Chapter 4:13, he wrote, “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” When we see this verse thrown around, it’s rarely used in a context like Paul’s. Instead, we like to claim our ability to “do all things” when we win a sports game, or get the promotion at work, or pass an exam with flying colors, or perhaps to encourage someone to persevere when they’re going through a difficult time. Rarely do we feel the need to proclaim our ability to do all things when we just had a fight with a loved one, or got fired, or said words we deeply regret. 

Paul’s reason for writing those words wasn’t because he had accomplished something awesome or even to encourage people in a difficult situation--he was the one in the difficult situation, and from his jail cell he wasn’t exactly able to run marathons or graduate at the top of his class from college. Instead, Paul knew better than to get distracted by what other people were doing versus what he was very clearly not doing. He found contentment because he was following what really mattered--God. Paul shows us that our ability to “do all things” isn’t based on our circumstances. Our ability to “do all things” is based on our Creator. 

When we can’t seem to achieve what we want to, it is often because we’re focusing in the wrong direction. Instead of striving after our own end goals, God only asks us to strive after one thing--him. It’s not bad to want to succeed in various aspects of our life, but any earthly success has to be secondary to simply following Jesus. If we succeed in every sense of the word but that one, we’ve actually failed. God doesn’t love us because of what we do, but because of who he is. 

Comparing ourselves to others only makes everyone lose. We think less of ourselves because of what we see other people do, then try to make ourselves feel better by patting ourselves on the back for what we have done, or perhaps for certain ways we don’t behave. It’s a vicious cycle, a constant game of belittling others to make ourselves feel better. Through Paul though, we see we don’t have to be this way. God can be glorified through climbing mountains, cooking fancy meals, or woodcrafting furniture, but he can also be glorified in the way we simply recognize how all the love, worth, and value we truly need is ultimately found in him. 


[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.]

The Last Word

[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] 

Ten minutes after hearing a sermon about justice and fairness I find myself saying, “That’s not fair.” I’m 100 steps away from where I was sitting, listening. I was even taking notes. Those words came out of my mouth not because I was summarizing what I had just learned. They were spoken in response to hearing that a person in the wrong might be the recipient of having their debt paid, and a free night in downtown Chicago.  

Isn’t it reasonable to expect the wrongdoer to be penalized and the victim of wrongdoing to be compensated for their loss, injury, inconvenience, and expenses? What if the wrongdoer gets away free of any consequence? That’s. Not. Fair. Right? That’s what I said.  

Photo Credit: Max Newhall

“Life’s not fair,” parents to children when they encounter the world’s inequity. Though I heard that and believe it to be true, I still point it out when I see justice I want served, or wrongs I want righted. An ex-husband is financially wounding his ex-wife yet again. A known sex offender gets to live without consequences. A parent denies, defends, protects, and excuses their child's bullying behavior. An employee is shut down, demoted, or let go because the person in charge is cowardly, proud, jealous, insecure, and weak. An elderly woman is robbed in broad daylight because the offender needs another drug fix. A brother kills his brother because he is hotheaded, hardhearted, and hates. Life isn’t fair.  

 “Cain, what have you done?” the Lord asks.
 “Eve, what have you done?” the Lord asked Cain’s mother a chapter before.  

The Lord can ask me and you the same question. Prior to that question, the Lord made it clear to Eve and Adam that they were not to touch fruit of one and only one tree. Prior to the question asked of Cain, the Lord made it clear that acceptance of the offering came with right-doing and a strong warning about devastation because of wrongdoing. Always there is the option of our will to be humble and obedient. But there is also always the option of following a proud unbelieving will.  This battle goes on in all of humanity. The Lord reasons with Cain, calls him to repentance. However, hate in Cain’s heart is well watered and hearty. So hate led to death by his hands and lying from his mouth. And then what kills me (pun intended) is that when Cain is caught and confronted, he complains about his punishment. There is no remorse. There is only self-pity. 

Did anyone else find themselves getting spooled up by Cain's actions?  

Maybe I got spooled up because I’m reminded of my own hardheartedness, my own wrongdoing, the battle of obedience versus disobedience in my own will. Maybe I needed that reminder so I can talk with Jesus about that. Maybe I needed that reminder so I could also hear the rest of the message - the part about hope and holiness. Thanks be to God that Jesus did something about our wrongdoing. Thanks be to Jesus for his death and resurrection, for his forgiveness, kindness, and mercy toward us. Thank you Jesus for the ongoing call to turn away from sin and death and turn toward the Life Giver. Thank you for not leaving us estranged from you, homeless, helpless, hopeless. Thank you for giving us hearts of flesh in exchange for hearts of stone. Thank you Jesus for your breath in our lungs so we can pour out our praise to You Only.  

This story of God and his interaction with his created ones is in the fourth chapter of the whole Bible. Crouching sin that’s eager to control is still a threat. We need to know that. And we need to know - not just know about - but know with as much faith as we have, that God’s grace is greater than that which wants to subdue us. Sin is great. But grace gets the last word.  

[Laura DeGroot likes to laugh out loud, drink good coffee and eat delicious food...with Jesus her family and friends. She has lived from the West to the East coast but Grand Rapids is home as of one whole year. As The Caffeinated Woman, she speaks to groups of people about how ordinary life is profoundly better knowing an Extraordinary God, and works at Art Of The Table. And she loves books.]

Treasure and 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://encounterchurch.org/messages] 

I was recently involved in a production at Spectrum Theater with the following story line: An elderly woman travels to the Middle East and unknowingly brings back a teapot containing a powerful genie. (Yeah…a comedy.) The bad-guy-previous owner will do anything to retrieve this priceless genie—travel to America, break into her apartment, hold a knife to her throat, and threaten murder—all to gain the treasure contained in the teapot. Let’s face it—a genie with unlimited power to fulfill one’s dreams and fantasies is pretty good motivation to seek out a treasure. And who isn’t intrigued by a good treasure hunt story?

The Bible also contains stories about seeking or finding treasure. Jesus’ two parables of people seeking or finding treasure are found in Matthew 13. Looking back at what Jesus had been talking about before this, I discovered that these two parables about the kingdom of God are smack-dab in the middle of a whole bunch of parables about the kingdom of God. Jesus compared the kingdom of God to a farmer and seeds, weeds, mustard seeds, yeast and dough, and the treasure parable is followed by a parable of a net and fish. All these stories begin with “The kingdom of God…” or “The kingdom of heaven…” Seems like a pretty random list of things to describe God’s kingdom.

But in the past, when I was asked to lead a short children’s message on the sermon topic, I would walk about my house looking for ordinary objects to help me make abstract concepts into concrete ideas that children could understand. Okay, I admit, it also helped me understand them better. Cans of Campbell’s soup, a charcoal briquette, a broom, and a tape recorder all made their appearance at one time or another. So I can imagine Jesus walking along trying to think of ways to make real or concrete the very abstract idea of the kingdom of God. Seeds and weeds, yeast and dough……and treasure. I bet the disciple’s ears perked up at that one.

However, the treasure turns out to be us. What a wild and crazy idea! The kingdom of God happens to actually be the people who live in it. All of us---the broken, the messed-up, the dysfunctional, the selfish, the greedy—we are the treasure that Christ bought and redeemed at the highest cost ever. As simple as that is, I often find it hard to wrap my mind around that thought.

Author Anne Lamott relates that when she teaches Sunday School, a favorite ritual of hers to do with the children is called Loved and Chosen.

“I sat on the couch and glanced slowly around in a goofy, menacing way, and then said “Is anyone here wearing a blue sweatshirt with Pokemon on it?” The four-year-old looked down at his chest, astonished to discover that he matched the description—like, what are the odds? He raised his hand. “Come over to the couch,” I said. “You are so loved and chosen.” He clutched at himself like a beauty pageant finalist. Then I asked if anyone that day was wearing green socks with brown shoes, a Giants cap, an argyle vest? Each of them turned out to be loved and chosen, which does not happen so often. Even Neshama—Anyone in red shoes today?—leapt towards the couch with relief.” (from Grace Eventually)

In truth, we are all loved and chosen. The good people, the rotten people, people we respect, and people that, if we are truthful, we wished lived far, far away.  All of us—the treasure chosen, bought and paid for by Jesus.

The Lord your God is with you,

the Mighty Warrior who saves.

He will take great delight in you;

in his love he will no longer rebuke you,

but will rejoice over you with singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

[Sandy Navis is happily retired and spends her days doing pretty much whatever she wants to do. She is a firm believer in the power of laughter, singing while doing the dishes, crazy dancing while cleaning house, and eating chocolate every day. Sandy has three grandkids, who she loves to talk about even more than breadmaking.]