A Fruitful Life
My dad was an enthusiastic gardener—and his kids and grandkids were his co-gardeners. His half-acre garden was gloriously, phenomenally productive. From mid-summer to late fall, we harvested bags brimming with sweet peas, string beans and broccoli; gunny-sacks stuffed with sweet corn, squash and potatoes; thirty-pound fruit boxes spilling over with tomatoes, beets and carrots; a pickup jammed with pumpkins; and on and on. Though his seeds only filled a couple of shoeboxes, the produce could not be contained in a pickup--would a semi-trailer have been enough?!
Dad kept pace with most garden work--until the harvest. Every year—to the dismay of my depression-raised dad—a sizeable amount of produce went unharvested. One day as we were leaving the farm, hot and tired but with a carload of vegetables, dad whined: "When are you going to get back and pick the rest of those beans? They're getting old.” A bit peeved, I teased: "What was that you said? `Thanks for helping?'" Dad heartily agreed with Jesus: The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few!
Even Mom became frustrated with the abundance—she had the task of cleaning and storing them. Though I had never heard my mom cuss, one day after Dad unloaded another pile of produce, she protested, "Al, what am I going to do with all these damn vegetables?!" (Dad tried to solve the problem of abundance by buying two refrigerators for his garage and an extra refrigerator for each of his kids! But the problem wasn't solved until he discovered that our local soup kitchen would gladly take his excess produce.)
The harvest is one of the most tangible miracles in our world. Laura Simon explains: "You drop a seed in the dirt, water it, and wait for it to sprout. That's kind of magical, don't you think? I mean, here's a seed, a tiny fleck of matter, smaller, in some cases than the period that will end this sentence. But in-side its insignificant little carcass are the makings of a five-foot-tall delphinium, say, with flowers so twinkling blue they'll make you suck in your breath."
The average ratio of harvested seeds to planted seeds in Biblical Palestine was about 8-1. When Jesus asserted that a fertile heart could produce a hundred, sixty, or thirty times what was sown, he envisioned a lavish productivity that would stun even my garden-wise father. God's goal is to make your life brim with marvelous fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentle-ness, and self-control. But it won’t happen until you humbly invite Him to take charge of your whole garden. Will you do that?
2010/10/15
2010/09/27
Gardening the Soul: Weeding the Garden, 5
Removing the Roots
I recently toured a friend's garden that she inherited when she bought the house of an avid gardener. My friend was enchanted by the flowers that marched through her garden from spring to fall. Just days before my tour, she attacked the weeds that were gobbling her garden. In an hour, she had decapitated most of the weeds with a weed-eater. It looked great--temporarily. This neophyte gardener didn't know that most weeds grow lustily from any roots left in the ground. Getting the root is dirty work--that's why I have blackened fingernails all summer long!
The weeds in life must also be uprooted. Not long ago a former high school friend phoned me. Herb [not his true name] explained to me that at the height of an alcohol-induced argument with his father, he had bellowed: "And you bought me right-handed golf clubs when I was a kid!" What did Herb mean? Herb is left-handed. He views the purchase of those right-handed golf clubs as a symbol of his dad's careless concern: "If Dad had truly loved me, he would have bought me left-handed golf clubs." The author of Hebrews warned: See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many." (12:15). A bitter root has been tunneling and spreading in Herb's life for over forty years. It has stolen the nutrients he needed to grow into a healthy human being. It has choked his ability to experience God's love. He lives a lonely, alcohol-dependent life largely because he has not removed that poisonous root.
Which root is easier to remove -- a two-year old child's naughty insistence on throwing his food or a seventeen year-old's haughty refusal to help at home? If parents overlook this sprouting weed: "Oh, but isn't he cute?”, they won't think the mature weed is cute at all: "Just try to make me clean my room!" Now the parents have a lusty weed whose toxic roots have spread throughout this young rebel's life, causing him to be expelled from school, arrested for underage drinking, and kicked off his soccer team. So many mature weeds are growing in the soil of his life that they won't be uprooted without blistered hands. If we wait until the neighbors can see the weeds in our garden, we have greatly inflated our task!
I recently toured a friend's garden that she inherited when she bought the house of an avid gardener. My friend was enchanted by the flowers that marched through her garden from spring to fall. Just days before my tour, she attacked the weeds that were gobbling her garden. In an hour, she had decapitated most of the weeds with a weed-eater. It looked great--temporarily. This neophyte gardener didn't know that most weeds grow lustily from any roots left in the ground. Getting the root is dirty work--that's why I have blackened fingernails all summer long!
The weeds in life must also be uprooted. Not long ago a former high school friend phoned me. Herb [not his true name] explained to me that at the height of an alcohol-induced argument with his father, he had bellowed: "And you bought me right-handed golf clubs when I was a kid!" What did Herb mean? Herb is left-handed. He views the purchase of those right-handed golf clubs as a symbol of his dad's careless concern: "If Dad had truly loved me, he would have bought me left-handed golf clubs." The author of Hebrews warned: See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many." (12:15). A bitter root has been tunneling and spreading in Herb's life for over forty years. It has stolen the nutrients he needed to grow into a healthy human being. It has choked his ability to experience God's love. He lives a lonely, alcohol-dependent life largely because he has not removed that poisonous root.
Which root is easier to remove -- a two-year old child's naughty insistence on throwing his food or a seventeen year-old's haughty refusal to help at home? If parents overlook this sprouting weed: "Oh, but isn't he cute?”, they won't think the mature weed is cute at all: "Just try to make me clean my room!" Now the parents have a lusty weed whose toxic roots have spread throughout this young rebel's life, causing him to be expelled from school, arrested for underage drinking, and kicked off his soccer team. So many mature weeds are growing in the soil of his life that they won't be uprooted without blistered hands. If we wait until the neighbors can see the weeds in our garden, we have greatly inflated our task!
2010/09/06
Gardening the Soul: Weeding the Garden, 4
Is That a Weed?
Weeding is tricky because weeds mimic good plants. Biblical weeds--"tares" in older versions of the Bible--were probably a ryegrass known as darnel. Seedling darnel is almost impossible to distinguish from seedling wheat. Once established, these weeds are nearly intractable. Even sieving the grain to remove their seeds is ineffective because they are the same size as the wheat seeds. Thus, these bitter seeds are milled with the wheat seeds, creating bitter bread.
Life’s weeds also mimic healthy growth. For example, we should nurture our bodies with nutritious food, regular rest, consistent exercise. But a legitimate concern for our health can become a greedy, nutrient-grabbing weed, which suffocates our search for life: "Our efforts at physical perfection offer us tangible solutions to fix what ails us--the newest gym, the latest diet, hip fashions, a nip or tuck here or there. These cures require effort, energy, and money, but actually enable us to avoid the tedious and scary prospect of searching inward. They make us feel alive, but keep us from looking into the recesses of our soul."
As the weed of physical perfection matures, we deceive ourselves by calling it "discipline" or "keeping a trim figure" or "staying in shape." But the bitter seeds remain: "We may look better and be healthier than ever, but continue to feel just as awful."
This past spring I planted a packet of coneflower seeds in my garden. Nothing sprouted for several weeks. Was it bad seed? Finally a few green leaves poked through the soil. Were they weeds? I was on the verge of executing them but decided to let them grow. In another week, I joyously recognized about a dozen seedling coneflowers.
What is sprouting in our hearts? Is it the worship of physical health or the desire to care for our God-given bodies? Since our capacity for self-deception is immense, we must humbly ask God to see with his eyes:
Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting. (Ps.139)
Weeding is tricky because weeds mimic good plants. Biblical weeds--"tares" in older versions of the Bible--were probably a ryegrass known as darnel. Seedling darnel is almost impossible to distinguish from seedling wheat. Once established, these weeds are nearly intractable. Even sieving the grain to remove their seeds is ineffective because they are the same size as the wheat seeds. Thus, these bitter seeds are milled with the wheat seeds, creating bitter bread.
Life’s weeds also mimic healthy growth. For example, we should nurture our bodies with nutritious food, regular rest, consistent exercise. But a legitimate concern for our health can become a greedy, nutrient-grabbing weed, which suffocates our search for life: "Our efforts at physical perfection offer us tangible solutions to fix what ails us--the newest gym, the latest diet, hip fashions, a nip or tuck here or there. These cures require effort, energy, and money, but actually enable us to avoid the tedious and scary prospect of searching inward. They make us feel alive, but keep us from looking into the recesses of our soul."
As the weed of physical perfection matures, we deceive ourselves by calling it "discipline" or "keeping a trim figure" or "staying in shape." But the bitter seeds remain: "We may look better and be healthier than ever, but continue to feel just as awful."
This past spring I planted a packet of coneflower seeds in my garden. Nothing sprouted for several weeks. Was it bad seed? Finally a few green leaves poked through the soil. Were they weeds? I was on the verge of executing them but decided to let them grow. In another week, I joyously recognized about a dozen seedling coneflowers.
What is sprouting in our hearts? Is it the worship of physical health or the desire to care for our God-given bodies? Since our capacity for self-deception is immense, we must humbly ask God to see with his eyes:
Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting. (Ps.139)
2010/08/22
Gardening the Soul: Weeding the Garden,3
"The Weed of Greed"
Jesus also said that the weed of greed (the deceitfulness of wealth) would strangle my garden. A number of years ago I received a modest amount of money from the sale of our family's business. Following my dad's model, I invested most of it in a diversity of stocks—depending on my father, an investment letter, and the Internet for financial advice. At first, I enjoyed the challenge of investing wisely. But at some point, this task became a choking weed. Each time I logged on to my computer I would scrutinize stock prices and news. I would get excited when my stocks went up --" Wow! I made $500 today"--and discouraged when they went down--"Why did he recommend that stock?!" And then I would churn with indecision: "Should I sell? Should I buy?”
Was it wrong for me to research and track my investments? Not at all. But at some point the weeds had taken over, entangling my heart with thoughts of making money. In the Old Testament economy God limited his people’s pursuit of financial gain. Work on the Sabbath was forbidden. Their yearly calendar included several weeks of religious festivals in Jerusalem. Every seventh year they grew no crops to rest the land (and themselves). Newlyweds were given a one-year honeymoon! Lenders charged no interest. And land titles reverted to the original owners on the Jubilee (every 50th year). Meditating on these policies, I was reminded that God cares more about the value of my soul than the value of my stocks. As a result, I shifted some money to investments that I don't need to watch regularly. I also limit how often I check stock prices. And I mostly invest in blue chip companies that don't soar or sink in a few hours of trading. Will I make less money? Possibly. Will I have money to live securely in retirement? Only God knows. But I do know that I have regained control of a weedy patch of my life.
Jesus also said that the weed of greed (the deceitfulness of wealth) would strangle my garden. A number of years ago I received a modest amount of money from the sale of our family's business. Following my dad's model, I invested most of it in a diversity of stocks—depending on my father, an investment letter, and the Internet for financial advice. At first, I enjoyed the challenge of investing wisely. But at some point, this task became a choking weed. Each time I logged on to my computer I would scrutinize stock prices and news. I would get excited when my stocks went up --" Wow! I made $500 today"--and discouraged when they went down--"Why did he recommend that stock?!" And then I would churn with indecision: "Should I sell? Should I buy?”
Was it wrong for me to research and track my investments? Not at all. But at some point the weeds had taken over, entangling my heart with thoughts of making money. In the Old Testament economy God limited his people’s pursuit of financial gain. Work on the Sabbath was forbidden. Their yearly calendar included several weeks of religious festivals in Jerusalem. Every seventh year they grew no crops to rest the land (and themselves). Newlyweds were given a one-year honeymoon! Lenders charged no interest. And land titles reverted to the original owners on the Jubilee (every 50th year). Meditating on these policies, I was reminded that God cares more about the value of my soul than the value of my stocks. As a result, I shifted some money to investments that I don't need to watch regularly. I also limit how often I check stock prices. And I mostly invest in blue chip companies that don't soar or sink in a few hours of trading. Will I make less money? Possibly. Will I have money to live securely in retirement? Only God knows. But I do know that I have regained control of a weedy patch of my life.
2010/08/03
Gardening the Soul: Weeding the Garden,2
Choking Weeds
Michael Pollan began his gardening experience with Ralph Waldo Emerson's optimism that weeds are simply plants whose virtues we haven't discovered. (Did Emerson garden?!) Experience quickly shattered the romance. He found that once these malevolent weeds are rooted in the garden, they will have to be wrestled out before they will leave. And their passion is to throw raucous parties for their "seedy" friends, who also want to linger when the party is over. But it is certainly no party for the gardener.
It is no wonder, then, that Jesus used weeds as a picture of the adversaries of a Christian's growth: What was sown among the thorns is the man who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke it, making it unfruitful. (Mt.13:22). Weeds in the garden and in life share many life-strangling characteristics.
The Weed of Worry
I am a champion worrier whose skills have been honed through years of practice. Like Laura Simon, I can worry over the trivial as well as the eternal: “If there isn't an impending catastrophe that requires my concern, I will find an ordinary event, some more modest matter, to fret over and dwell on."
During my early thirties I led a small church. In my journals from those years, I sound like a fretful mother agonizing over her baby's health:
• "Are we going to make it?"
• "How important are numbers?"
• "Should we continue to meet in a home?"
• "Do I measure the ministry on the basis of my growing maturity? or the church's? or both?
• "Are my gifts best suited for a pastoral ministry?"
• "Would the church be better off without me?"
• "Should I go back to school to earn my doctorate so I can teach at a college or seminary?"
Jesus instructed those choked by worry to observe the growth of wild flowers: They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. The valleys in the Black Hills of western South Dakota are home to a stunning abundance of wild flowers—the creamy lilies, the sunny black-eyed susans, and the shaggy bergamots. Such effortless splendor is breathtaking.
Jesus had a stinging question for us faithless worriers: If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? The wild grasses live for a season. We will live forever. Isn't God much more committed to beautifying his eternal creatures? When it came to worries about my professional life, I didn't know the future. But as I learned to trust the flowering of my life to the Gardener's hands, I relaxed. I knew that my heavenly Father was much more committed to turning my shabby garden into a creation of greater beauty than the mountain meadows.
What worries are choking your life? Do you worry about losing your job? about the safety of your child? about your retirement income? about potential severe weather? Jesus challenges us: Do not worry, saying “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” ... Your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness—and all these things will be added onto you. If we direct our time and energy and thoughts toward pursuing God, He will take care of the rest!
Michael Pollan began his gardening experience with Ralph Waldo Emerson's optimism that weeds are simply plants whose virtues we haven't discovered. (Did Emerson garden?!) Experience quickly shattered the romance. He found that once these malevolent weeds are rooted in the garden, they will have to be wrestled out before they will leave. And their passion is to throw raucous parties for their "seedy" friends, who also want to linger when the party is over. But it is certainly no party for the gardener.
It is no wonder, then, that Jesus used weeds as a picture of the adversaries of a Christian's growth: What was sown among the thorns is the man who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke it, making it unfruitful. (Mt.13:22). Weeds in the garden and in life share many life-strangling characteristics.
The Weed of Worry
I am a champion worrier whose skills have been honed through years of practice. Like Laura Simon, I can worry over the trivial as well as the eternal: “If there isn't an impending catastrophe that requires my concern, I will find an ordinary event, some more modest matter, to fret over and dwell on."
During my early thirties I led a small church. In my journals from those years, I sound like a fretful mother agonizing over her baby's health:
• "Are we going to make it?"
• "How important are numbers?"
• "Should we continue to meet in a home?"
• "Do I measure the ministry on the basis of my growing maturity? or the church's? or both?
• "Are my gifts best suited for a pastoral ministry?"
• "Would the church be better off without me?"
• "Should I go back to school to earn my doctorate so I can teach at a college or seminary?"
Jesus instructed those choked by worry to observe the growth of wild flowers: They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. The valleys in the Black Hills of western South Dakota are home to a stunning abundance of wild flowers—the creamy lilies, the sunny black-eyed susans, and the shaggy bergamots. Such effortless splendor is breathtaking.
Jesus had a stinging question for us faithless worriers: If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? The wild grasses live for a season. We will live forever. Isn't God much more committed to beautifying his eternal creatures? When it came to worries about my professional life, I didn't know the future. But as I learned to trust the flowering of my life to the Gardener's hands, I relaxed. I knew that my heavenly Father was much more committed to turning my shabby garden into a creation of greater beauty than the mountain meadows.
What worries are choking your life? Do you worry about losing your job? about the safety of your child? about your retirement income? about potential severe weather? Jesus challenges us: Do not worry, saying “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” ... Your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness—and all these things will be added onto you. If we direct our time and energy and thoughts toward pursuing God, He will take care of the rest!
2010/07/22
Gardening the Soul: Weeding the Garden, 1
The Curse of Weeds
Weeding is my most demanding garden chore. It consumes nearly half of my time in spring and early summer. The drudgery of weeding is probably the #1 reason inexperienced gardeners never graduate and become experienced gardeners! Without an ongoing attack on this powerful opponent, my garden beds would be quickly devoured by a horde of ravenous weeds. Genesis explains why weeds are such a robust foe for gardeners:
Cursed is the ground because of you;
through painful toil you will eat of it
all the days of your life.
It will produce thorns and thistles for you,
and you will eat the plants of the field.
By the sweat of your brow
you will eat your food
until you return to the ground. (Gen.3:17-19)
After Adam and Eve’s rebellion, no garden yielded its bounty without painful toil and the sweat of your brow. Thorns and thistles perennially contest our work in the garden.
Weeding is my most demanding garden chore. It consumes nearly half of my time in spring and early summer. The drudgery of weeding is probably the #1 reason inexperienced gardeners never graduate and become experienced gardeners! Without an ongoing attack on this powerful opponent, my garden beds would be quickly devoured by a horde of ravenous weeds. Genesis explains why weeds are such a robust foe for gardeners:
Cursed is the ground because of you;
through painful toil you will eat of it
all the days of your life.
It will produce thorns and thistles for you,
and you will eat the plants of the field.
By the sweat of your brow
you will eat your food
until you return to the ground. (Gen.3:17-19)
After Adam and Eve’s rebellion, no garden yielded its bounty without painful toil and the sweat of your brow. Thorns and thistles perennially contest our work in the garden.
But if weeds are so vigorous, why haven't they covered the planet? Why were there few weeds when the Puritans landed in New England? Why don’t I see more weeds on my hikes in the Black Hills? Michael Pollan explains that weeds: are plants particularly well adapted to man-made places. They don't grow in forests or prairies—in "the wild." Weeds thrive in gardens, meadows, lawns, vacant lots, railroad sidings, hard by dumpsters and in the cracks of sidewalks. They grow where we live, in other words, and hardly anywhere else.
Where mankind rests, weeds rest. But wherever I plunge my spade, weeds rush to challenge my claim. (Where do they come from?!) Like a child who has no interest in a toy until his sibling picks it up, weeds jealously contest my interest in the soil. Weeds are man's, not nature's, curse. When people ask me why I believe the Bible is a revelation from God, one of my answers is: “Weeds.” Weeds confirm the truth of Genesis.
Weeds are part of God’s overall judgment on us rebels. In addition to weeds, life is filled with cancer and canker sores, tornadoes and tomato worms, asps and AIDS, calamity and cavities, aging and arguing, famine and fat, ad infinitum.” Why did God do this? If He had left us in Eden, how would we have recognized our need for Him? A few years ago when a friend of my brother’s was experiencing hard times, he complained: “I thought God wouldn’t give me more than I can handle.” My brother wisely disagreed: “I find that God frequently does give me more than I can handle—that way I am forced to depend on Him.”
The weeds of life will never go away. But the great news is that I don’t have to wage that war on my own. There is a Gardener who has His gloves on and a hoe in His hand, eager to help me attack those weeds! Will you invite Him into your garden?
2010/06/29
The Father Waters His Garden, 3
“Yoked to God”
Jeremiah charged that God’s people were in rebellion: Long ago you broke off your yoke and said, `I will not serve you!’ This yoke—a crossbeam placed on the shoulders of an ox with a loop of rope for its neck—allowed a farmer to harness and direct the power of the animal. God’s people had thrown off their yoke, unwilling to submit to His guidance.
Before his conversion, C.S. Lewis was disturbed by a gospel which proclaimed a “Transcendental Interferer.” He explained: “If true, [I] knew there was no region even in the innermost depth of one's soul which one could surround with a barbed wire fence and guard with a notice of: “No Admittance.” I wanted some place, however small, of which I could say to all other beings, "This is my business and mine only."
But is God's guidance an “interference”? Jesus promised rest to the weary: Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, ... and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Mt.11:28-30) Often a farmer would train an inexperienced animal by yoking it to an experienced one. We who are weary and burdened are invited to place our necks in Jesus’ easy and light yoke, allowing him to gently lead our parched souls to his Refreshing Waters.
The board of directors of my ministry and I began praying for the founding of a Biblically-based counseling center in our city. After several years, we discovered a nearby counseling service that was committed to a Biblical model. During the next two years the head of that ministry visited Sioux Falls to counsel and teach a counseling class. That second year, I taught part of the class with him.
Our group was still unsure how the ministry would begin, but during that second year’s class, one of the participants heard God’s call to this ministry. As events unfolded over the following months, I envisioned that this man with his counseling gifts, and I, with my teaching gifts, would join together to help people become whole in Christ. It seemed a natural, Spirit-led fit.
But before the match was made, it began to unravel. First, this man was warned by an acquaintance: "Watch out for Bernie. He has to control things." Then the counselor who was helping us establish the ministry, came to believe similarly. (Though he later discovered he had misjudged circumstances.) Then a team of men from other biblical counseling centers was invited to Sioux Falls to help us finalize our plans. They strongly advised this man to form his own board and cut any formal ties with my board and me.
As we discussed, debated, and prayed over the next few weeks it became increasingly clear that this new ministry would form its own board. During this time we polled the counseling class—70% said they would not attend if I alone taught the class. When over 90% of my college students rate me an "Excellent" professor, I didn't need to hear an angel’s voice to discern God's leading! I had invested a great deal of prayer and energy to this vision. And it would be a reality—only it would not include me. Even though I was saddened and felt mildly betrayed, this was not a crushing experience. Knowing I am yoked to a vision-directing God, I didn't have to manipulate people or circumstances to fit my vision. A few years later, while serving on the board of this counseling ministry, the director told me that he wished the ministry had been organized the way I had envisioned it. I believe God prevented those involved from adopting that perspective because God wanted my life to bud in a different direction.
When I am drinking from the "reservoir that gushes into eternity," I can peacefully accept whatever life brings. "Lord, I know that Life is not found in the pursuit of my will. So I willingly, joyously submit to the yoke of your will.”
Jeremiah charged that God’s people were in rebellion: Long ago you broke off your yoke and said, `I will not serve you!’ This yoke—a crossbeam placed on the shoulders of an ox with a loop of rope for its neck—allowed a farmer to harness and direct the power of the animal. God’s people had thrown off their yoke, unwilling to submit to His guidance.
Before his conversion, C.S. Lewis was disturbed by a gospel which proclaimed a “Transcendental Interferer.” He explained: “If true, [I] knew there was no region even in the innermost depth of one's soul which one could surround with a barbed wire fence and guard with a notice of: “No Admittance.” I wanted some place, however small, of which I could say to all other beings, "This is my business and mine only."
But is God's guidance an “interference”? Jesus promised rest to the weary: Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, ... and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Mt.11:28-30) Often a farmer would train an inexperienced animal by yoking it to an experienced one. We who are weary and burdened are invited to place our necks in Jesus’ easy and light yoke, allowing him to gently lead our parched souls to his Refreshing Waters.
The board of directors of my ministry and I began praying for the founding of a Biblically-based counseling center in our city. After several years, we discovered a nearby counseling service that was committed to a Biblical model. During the next two years the head of that ministry visited Sioux Falls to counsel and teach a counseling class. That second year, I taught part of the class with him.
Our group was still unsure how the ministry would begin, but during that second year’s class, one of the participants heard God’s call to this ministry. As events unfolded over the following months, I envisioned that this man with his counseling gifts, and I, with my teaching gifts, would join together to help people become whole in Christ. It seemed a natural, Spirit-led fit.
But before the match was made, it began to unravel. First, this man was warned by an acquaintance: "Watch out for Bernie. He has to control things." Then the counselor who was helping us establish the ministry, came to believe similarly. (Though he later discovered he had misjudged circumstances.) Then a team of men from other biblical counseling centers was invited to Sioux Falls to help us finalize our plans. They strongly advised this man to form his own board and cut any formal ties with my board and me.
As we discussed, debated, and prayed over the next few weeks it became increasingly clear that this new ministry would form its own board. During this time we polled the counseling class—70% said they would not attend if I alone taught the class. When over 90% of my college students rate me an "Excellent" professor, I didn't need to hear an angel’s voice to discern God's leading! I had invested a great deal of prayer and energy to this vision. And it would be a reality—only it would not include me. Even though I was saddened and felt mildly betrayed, this was not a crushing experience. Knowing I am yoked to a vision-directing God, I didn't have to manipulate people or circumstances to fit my vision. A few years later, while serving on the board of this counseling ministry, the director told me that he wished the ministry had been organized the way I had envisioned it. I believe God prevented those involved from adopting that perspective because God wanted my life to bud in a different direction.
When I am drinking from the "reservoir that gushes into eternity," I can peacefully accept whatever life brings. "Lord, I know that Life is not found in the pursuit of my will. So I willingly, joyously submit to the yoke of your will.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
