[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.]
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
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.
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| Photo credit to Jenelle Ball |
[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]
[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.]
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.]
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Change of Identity
[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]
When I was in middle school, I distinctly remember a time when I couldn't figure out which version of me to be. A friend was going somewhere with my family, and it was creating a collision of "at school" Brianna meeting "at home" Brianna. In hindsight, the two versions of me weren't drastically different, but during a time in my life when I was trying to figure out who I was and what defined me, they felt enough at odds with each other that I wasn't sure how to handle it.
As adults, we probably (or at least hopefully) don't think of ourselves in terms of different versions of ourselves. But if we were to look closely at our lives, I suspect we'd all find an area or two where who we say we are and want to be doesn't always perfectly align with what we actually do. We may post Bible verses and accounts of being #blessed on Instagram, then turn around and commit the same sin over and over without a hint of remorse. We may dole out parenting advice and present our kids as model children, and then secretly wonder why it feels like we're doing everything wrong. We may act like the most productive and knowledgeable employee at the company when we're in a meeting, then go back to our desk and spend the whole day wasting time.
On the outside, the church in Sardis probably looked pretty good. As the letter in Revelation 3 records, they "have a reputation of being alive." Truthfully though, things were very different, as Rev. 3:1 continues with, "but you are dead." It goes on to give them a stern warning:
While the letter to Sardis is rather gloomy, there's also a hint of hope, hope that we can hold onto as well. Jesus instructs the church to remember what they've learned and to hold fast to it, and to repent from the ways they've gone astray. In a word, Jesus is urging them to change. As someone who struggles with change, at first that sounds overwhelming. Jesus sounds pretty urgent, reminding the people that they don't know when he'll come back, so they need to be ready. And while that's certainly true, we do not, on our own, have the ability to instantly stop faking it and become completely new people. Fortunately, we follow a God who is continually at work making all things new. There is urgency, but not urgency to make ourselves instantly better--urgency to turn to the God who works on us to enact the needed change.
Thinking back to younger Brianna, I couldn't tell you exactly when I changed and starting feeling like I could be the same version of me all the time, but I do remember a point in high school where I consciously realized I had reached that milestone. It was a slow melding of the seemingly disparate pieces of myself into the kind of cohesive personality where I could be the same no matter which setting I was in. As with all change though, it's never truly over. We may become more authentic in the way we present ourselves on social media or as parents or as workers, but God always has more he can do to draw us closer to him. The first step is realizing we need him to do it.
[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.]
When I was in middle school, I distinctly remember a time when I couldn't figure out which version of me to be. A friend was going somewhere with my family, and it was creating a collision of "at school" Brianna meeting "at home" Brianna. In hindsight, the two versions of me weren't drastically different, but during a time in my life when I was trying to figure out who I was and what defined me, they felt enough at odds with each other that I wasn't sure how to handle it.
![]() |
| Photo Credit: Timo Vijn |
As adults, we probably (or at least hopefully) don't think of ourselves in terms of different versions of ourselves. But if we were to look closely at our lives, I suspect we'd all find an area or two where who we say we are and want to be doesn't always perfectly align with what we actually do. We may post Bible verses and accounts of being #blessed on Instagram, then turn around and commit the same sin over and over without a hint of remorse. We may dole out parenting advice and present our kids as model children, and then secretly wonder why it feels like we're doing everything wrong. We may act like the most productive and knowledgeable employee at the company when we're in a meeting, then go back to our desk and spend the whole day wasting time.
On the outside, the church in Sardis probably looked pretty good. As the letter in Revelation 3 records, they "have a reputation of being alive." Truthfully though, things were very different, as Rev. 3:1 continues with, "but you are dead." It goes on to give them a stern warning:
Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; hold it fast, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you.There aren't many details offered here about how the church in Sardis was dead, but given that they had a "reputation of being alive," there must have been something disjointed about the way they presented themselves versus the way they actually were. In our own lives, it's so tempting, even easy to fake parts of our lives. Putting on a good face may get us through for a while, and we may fool the people around us--our fellow churchgoers, our boss, or even our family. Faking it can breed dangerous consequences as it spills over into our spiritual life though, leading us to believe that we're close to God as long as other people look at us and think we're "good." Of course, we can never actually fool God. He always knows who we truly are, more fully than we even know ourselves.
While the letter to Sardis is rather gloomy, there's also a hint of hope, hope that we can hold onto as well. Jesus instructs the church to remember what they've learned and to hold fast to it, and to repent from the ways they've gone astray. In a word, Jesus is urging them to change. As someone who struggles with change, at first that sounds overwhelming. Jesus sounds pretty urgent, reminding the people that they don't know when he'll come back, so they need to be ready. And while that's certainly true, we do not, on our own, have the ability to instantly stop faking it and become completely new people. Fortunately, we follow a God who is continually at work making all things new. There is urgency, but not urgency to make ourselves instantly better--urgency to turn to the God who works on us to enact the needed change.
Thinking back to younger Brianna, I couldn't tell you exactly when I changed and starting feeling like I could be the same version of me all the time, but I do remember a point in high school where I consciously realized I had reached that milestone. It was a slow melding of the seemingly disparate pieces of myself into the kind of cohesive personality where I could be the same no matter which setting I was in. As with all change though, it's never truly over. We may become more authentic in the way we present ourselves on social media or as parents or as workers, but God always has more he can do to draw us closer to him. The first step is realizing we need him to do it.
[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.]
Thursday, June 23, 2016
Getting Uncomfortable
[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]
High school probably went one of two ways for you. Perhaps those years were gold-tinged glory days that you smile back on with your friends over coffee, or maybe for you, it was the equivalent of being trapped in a den of wolves for four years. Like so many unfortunate others, the latter experience was mine. As an introverted freshman, I had trouble making friends, preferring to curl up with a book while everyone else did whatever it is “normal” teenagers do on Saturday nights. My sophomore year and onward I was seduced into a dark dance with anorexia, and my senior year contained the emergence of Major Depressive Disorder. By the time I reached college, I would look to the heavens and ask if enough was enough. After all of the suffering I had been through, didn't I deserve a break? Hadn't I earned the comfort of a smooth college career and a tranquil “happily ever after?”
Everyone yearns for comfort, whether it is of a mental, physical, or materialistic nature; it is an instinctual human reflex to avoid pain and seek pleasure. When we are not challenged, however, we have a way of being lulled into complacency, and become numb to God's urging for us to venture out of our safe havens.
Revelation 3:14-22 is a letter from God to the church of Laodicea, with the apostle John as the middle-man. Historically, Laodicea was one of the most comfortable cities in Asia Minor, known for its financial prosperity, luxurious fashions, and excellent medicine. Ironically enough, the city did not possess the most basic of all human needs: a water source. When we slip into the apathy of worldly comforts, we may have an abundance of food and a secure job and a house in a safe neighborhood, but if we do not seek Christ, the living water and indeed, the most basic and crucial of human needs, what good is our cushy lifestyle?
God tells the church of Laodicea: “So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you from my mouth. You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.” (Rev. 3:16-17). This might seem harsh at first glance, but our God always speaks in a perfect balance of grace and truth: “For those whom I love, I rebuke and discipline.” (Rev. 3:19). While God certainly hates to see any of us miserable, the Scripture warns us of how physical comfort can breed spiritual stagnation. Perhaps in our own eyes we are prosperous and knowledgeable, but spiritually we are stumbling fools, naked and blind.
If Christ were to walk into our church today, undoubtedly the assessment would be that we are mirroring the mistakes our brothers and sisters in Laodicea made centuries ago. We are far too comfortable: in our material situations, in our interactions with each other, and in our deeply entrenched beliefs. Our financial security hinders us from taking unnecessary risks. In an attempt to keep the peace with others, we sacrifice opportunities to nudge each other toward Christ. When we are put in a position that challenges our beliefs, we shrink from the chance to grow, and we hide in the safety of the status quo.
Personally, the moments that I felt God's presence the strongest were during my most uncomfortable moments. The turbulent years of high school are behind me. Medication, therapy, and support from family and friends has helped me to better control my mental illness. I found my way back to God, was baptized, and go to church nearly every Sunday. My grades are good. I have a promising job. I have made many wonderful friends. I have finally acquired the comfort that I so desperately yearned for years ago. I am grateful, certainly, but I will admit to you that I cling to these comforts too tightly.
It is so easy to kneel in prayer when it is the world that drives you to your knees. We go to God so willingly when we are afraid, when we are weak, when we are depressed, when we are lonely. In our suffering, we are closer to God because we are actively seeking our Heavenly Father out. Why isn't this desire as strong when we are content and life is being kind? I often am guilty of saying something along these lines: “Okay God, thank you so much for getting me here, but I don't really need anything right now. I'm all good. Talk to you later.”
Our thirst is so falsely quenched by earthly comforts that we do not notice our souls are running dry; we need the living water of Christ to be truly nourished. This doesn't mean that we should actively seek discomfort. We don't have to give away all of our material possessions or force ourselves to suffer. Instead, we should remember the desperation for God we felt when we were suffering, and pursue God with equal fervor even when we are not. We should live each day as if we have never tasted the living water before.
[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 21 Pilots.]
High school probably went one of two ways for you. Perhaps those years were gold-tinged glory days that you smile back on with your friends over coffee, or maybe for you, it was the equivalent of being trapped in a den of wolves for four years. Like so many unfortunate others, the latter experience was mine. As an introverted freshman, I had trouble making friends, preferring to curl up with a book while everyone else did whatever it is “normal” teenagers do on Saturday nights. My sophomore year and onward I was seduced into a dark dance with anorexia, and my senior year contained the emergence of Major Depressive Disorder. By the time I reached college, I would look to the heavens and ask if enough was enough. After all of the suffering I had been through, didn't I deserve a break? Hadn't I earned the comfort of a smooth college career and a tranquil “happily ever after?”
![]() |
| Photo Credit: F Romero |
Everyone yearns for comfort, whether it is of a mental, physical, or materialistic nature; it is an instinctual human reflex to avoid pain and seek pleasure. When we are not challenged, however, we have a way of being lulled into complacency, and become numb to God's urging for us to venture out of our safe havens.
Revelation 3:14-22 is a letter from God to the church of Laodicea, with the apostle John as the middle-man. Historically, Laodicea was one of the most comfortable cities in Asia Minor, known for its financial prosperity, luxurious fashions, and excellent medicine. Ironically enough, the city did not possess the most basic of all human needs: a water source. When we slip into the apathy of worldly comforts, we may have an abundance of food and a secure job and a house in a safe neighborhood, but if we do not seek Christ, the living water and indeed, the most basic and crucial of human needs, what good is our cushy lifestyle?
God tells the church of Laodicea: “So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you from my mouth. You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.” (Rev. 3:16-17). This might seem harsh at first glance, but our God always speaks in a perfect balance of grace and truth: “For those whom I love, I rebuke and discipline.” (Rev. 3:19). While God certainly hates to see any of us miserable, the Scripture warns us of how physical comfort can breed spiritual stagnation. Perhaps in our own eyes we are prosperous and knowledgeable, but spiritually we are stumbling fools, naked and blind.
If Christ were to walk into our church today, undoubtedly the assessment would be that we are mirroring the mistakes our brothers and sisters in Laodicea made centuries ago. We are far too comfortable: in our material situations, in our interactions with each other, and in our deeply entrenched beliefs. Our financial security hinders us from taking unnecessary risks. In an attempt to keep the peace with others, we sacrifice opportunities to nudge each other toward Christ. When we are put in a position that challenges our beliefs, we shrink from the chance to grow, and we hide in the safety of the status quo.
Personally, the moments that I felt God's presence the strongest were during my most uncomfortable moments. The turbulent years of high school are behind me. Medication, therapy, and support from family and friends has helped me to better control my mental illness. I found my way back to God, was baptized, and go to church nearly every Sunday. My grades are good. I have a promising job. I have made many wonderful friends. I have finally acquired the comfort that I so desperately yearned for years ago. I am grateful, certainly, but I will admit to you that I cling to these comforts too tightly.
It is so easy to kneel in prayer when it is the world that drives you to your knees. We go to God so willingly when we are afraid, when we are weak, when we are depressed, when we are lonely. In our suffering, we are closer to God because we are actively seeking our Heavenly Father out. Why isn't this desire as strong when we are content and life is being kind? I often am guilty of saying something along these lines: “Okay God, thank you so much for getting me here, but I don't really need anything right now. I'm all good. Talk to you later.”
Our thirst is so falsely quenched by earthly comforts that we do not notice our souls are running dry; we need the living water of Christ to be truly nourished. This doesn't mean that we should actively seek discomfort. We don't have to give away all of our material possessions or force ourselves to suffer. Instead, we should remember the desperation for God we felt when we were suffering, and pursue God with equal fervor even when we are not. We should live each day as if we have never tasted the living water before.
[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 21 Pilots.]
Thursday, June 16, 2016
Grace and Truth: W.W.J.D.?
[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]
As a 90’s kid, I grew up
sporting the very popular W.W.J.D. bracelets throughout my childhood, often
wearing mismatching colors at the same time. Because I attended a Christian
school during the week and church on Sundays, it really was the “cool” thing to
do. However, I don’t think I ever spent much time contemplating what those four
letters actually meant: what would Jesus do? When another student was left out
at recess, what would Jesus do? When someone else didn’t understand the math
lesson and it made perfect sense to me, what would Jesus do?
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| Photo Credit: Flickr Creative Commons, user dylanh777 |
Now as an adult, I reflect
on those words and still wonder if I know what they mean in our world today.
How do I act like Jesus amidst severe disagreement between political parties? What
would Jesus do in the aftermath of the horrible violence in Orlando? How can I
reflect Jesus’s love to those living in extreme poverty, experiencing physical
or emotional abuse, or suffering from mental illness or addiction?
In response to these questions,
we can find comfort, hope, and guidance in the passage we read from Revelation
this week. Jesus shares these words with John to give to the church in Ephesus:
I know your deeds, your hard work and your
perseverance. I know that you cannot tolerate wicked people, that you have
tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them false.
You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown
weary. Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at
first. Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at
first. (Revelation 2:2-5)
Can we imagine that Jesus
might share some of the same thoughts with us today—as a global church, as
Encounter Church, or as individuals? The Christian church has endured
persecution in the past and continues to in the present, even if it manifests
itself differently in this age of technology—and we continue to endure by the
power of the Holy Spirit. However, as Jesus shared with the church in Ephesus,
we often forget about the love that brought us to Christ in the first place.
It’s easy to get caught up
in the legality of current hot topics such as immigration, refugees,
homosexuality, pornography, wealth distribution… and the list could go on and
on. Christ recognizes that there is importance to seek truth in all of these
issues, but He also encourages us to live a life of love. It often seems that
there is disconnect between these two ideas—Biblical truth and the love of
Christ—but as Christians, just like the Ephesians, we should seek to harmonize
these two concepts.
I think the best example of
Jesus showing 100% truth and 100% love can be found in John 8:3-11 (my
shortened version):
The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman
who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst they said to him,
“Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now in the Law
Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” …And as they
continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin
among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” …Jesus stood up and said to
her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one,
Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no
more.”
The truth was that this
woman was an adulteress and deserved to face the consequences of her sin.
However, the truth also shows that not one of those accusing her was without
sin, and this is where grace and love appear. Jesus shows great love and grace
by saving this woman from the consequences of her sin and by inviting her to go
and sin no more, to follow Him.
I hope that we can reflect
Jesus’s amazing ability to speak 100% truth into the lives of those he met with
a heart that is full of 100% love and grace. Now when we think about those four
letters, W.W.J.D, it is my prayer that we can rely on the power of the Holy
Spirit to guide us in showing Jesus’s grace and truth in all that we say and
do.
In closing, I want to share
these words from John 1:14, 16-17:
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us,
and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of
grace and truth… For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.
For the law was given through Moses; grace
and truth came through Jesus Christ.
[Megan Stephenson is a recent graduate of Grand Valley State University and works for a private education group in Grand Rapids as an Assistant Registrar. She loves spending time with her husband, Ben, trying out new breweries, restaurants, and local attractions. She also self-identifies as a crazy cat lady, despite owning no cats of her own, thanks to her loving and allergic husband.]
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Wednesday, June 8, 2016
How to Bring Peace to Your City
[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]
Though I’ve lived in Grand Rapids my whole life, I’m in the process of moving for the fifth time in three years. This time though, it’s different, because I’ve bought a place and plan to live there for the foreseeable future. I’m excited, certainly, but there’s a bit of trepidation--I’ve never lived by myself like this, I don’t know anyone who lives in the neighborhood, and I’m wondering how long, and exactly what it will take, for it to really feel like home.
My current housing transition made me listen to the story of God’s people as found in Jeremiah 29 in a different way. They’re living as exiles in Bablyon, having been ripped away from their home city of Jerusalem. If I were in their situation, I don’t think I would receive God’s words to them in Jeremiah 29:7 with a very positive attitude:
Our situations may not be the same as the exiles living in Babylon, but God’s words to them hold truth for us wherever we are and whatever our circumstances are. There’s a line in the Mumford and Sons song “Hopeless Wanderer” that seems so fitting--“I will learn to love the skies I’m under.” God has us where we are for a reason, and whether we like that place or not, we have a mission: To love where we are and to seek its good.
Seeking peace and prosperity for an entire city is, perhaps, a daunting task. So I love that God’s tasks for the people, as outlined in Jeremiah 29:5-6, don’t necessarily call for crazy, outlandish things.
God doesn’t tell them to immediately start out and take the city by storm with all their good deeds. First, he gives them specific examples of actions they can take to seek the peace and prosperity of the city. Some of us may be called to start seeking peace for our city in big, bold ways--by partnering with or starting a food pantry or ministry for homeless people, or running for city council--and others may be called to start in smaller ways. We can start where we are, by looking for the needs of others that we come across every day.
Cities do need big movements, too. We need people who will stand up for injustice in bold ways. We need people who volunteer their time and give prayer and financial support to organizations who are helping to bring about good in our community. We need people who invest in the lives of the people around them and work as God’s ambassadors to bring healing, whether it’s physical, emotional, or spiritual.
For me, I’m hoping to start by meeting my next door neighbors, and then others from there. While I consider myself a friendly and outgoing person, walking up to strangers and saying hello isn’t something I’m totally comfortable with, but I’m going to try. Will learning my neighbor’s name change the city of Grand Rapids? Of course not, not on its own. But big changes find their starting place in the little things. One person meeting their neighbor might not change a city, but what about a hundred people meeting their neighbors? And then taking the next step of really getting to know their neighbors? And then brainstorming, with their neighbors, of the ways they can create positive change on their street, or the next street over? What effect might that have on the city of Grand Rapids?
How can you start this week?
Though I’ve lived in Grand Rapids my whole life, I’m in the process of moving for the fifth time in three years. This time though, it’s different, because I’ve bought a place and plan to live there for the foreseeable future. I’m excited, certainly, but there’s a bit of trepidation--I’ve never lived by myself like this, I don’t know anyone who lives in the neighborhood, and I’m wondering how long, and exactly what it will take, for it to really feel like home.
![]() |
| Photo Credit: Flickr User justinrazmus, Creative Commons |
My current housing transition made me listen to the story of God’s people as found in Jeremiah 29 in a different way. They’re living as exiles in Bablyon, having been ripped away from their home city of Jerusalem. If I were in their situation, I don’t think I would receive God’s words to them in Jeremiah 29:7 with a very positive attitude:
Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.Here the people are, living where they absolutely do not want to be, and God tells them to settle in, put down roots, and invest in their community. What? It seems like the type of situation to be simply endured, not one to be embraced. But God tells them to do just that. He allowed them to be taken into exile, and he had work for them to do during that time.
Our situations may not be the same as the exiles living in Babylon, but God’s words to them hold truth for us wherever we are and whatever our circumstances are. There’s a line in the Mumford and Sons song “Hopeless Wanderer” that seems so fitting--“I will learn to love the skies I’m under.” God has us where we are for a reason, and whether we like that place or not, we have a mission: To love where we are and to seek its good.
Seeking peace and prosperity for an entire city is, perhaps, a daunting task. So I love that God’s tasks for the people, as outlined in Jeremiah 29:5-6, don’t necessarily call for crazy, outlandish things.
Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease.
God doesn’t tell them to immediately start out and take the city by storm with all their good deeds. First, he gives them specific examples of actions they can take to seek the peace and prosperity of the city. Some of us may be called to start seeking peace for our city in big, bold ways--by partnering with or starting a food pantry or ministry for homeless people, or running for city council--and others may be called to start in smaller ways. We can start where we are, by looking for the needs of others that we come across every day.
Cities do need big movements, too. We need people who will stand up for injustice in bold ways. We need people who volunteer their time and give prayer and financial support to organizations who are helping to bring about good in our community. We need people who invest in the lives of the people around them and work as God’s ambassadors to bring healing, whether it’s physical, emotional, or spiritual.
For me, I’m hoping to start by meeting my next door neighbors, and then others from there. While I consider myself a friendly and outgoing person, walking up to strangers and saying hello isn’t something I’m totally comfortable with, but I’m going to try. Will learning my neighbor’s name change the city of Grand Rapids? Of course not, not on its own. But big changes find their starting place in the little things. One person meeting their neighbor might not change a city, but what about a hundred people meeting their neighbors? And then taking the next step of really getting to know their neighbors? And then brainstorming, with their neighbors, of the ways they can create positive change on their street, or the next street over? What effect might that have on the city of Grand Rapids?
How can you start this week?
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