Living the Gospel with a Military Mentality

First off, a disclaimer: This post originally was totally and completely based on recent "articles" I had read by very... opinionated... people. While I actually agreed with some of their points, I believe there are far more effective ways of opening someone's mind to your point of view than by belittling and debasing the "other side". We can certainly share our differences of opinion in a respectful way.

That being said, this blog is not a place to fire off random rants at every person or people group that offers up views in contrast to my own. I try to keep this blog a safe place of thoughtful meditation on what God would have us know and how He would have us live (like He is God and we are not), and encouragement to carry on. For this reason, this will not be a "rant", but what I hope is a helpful, thought-provoking post that offers a more centered and peaceful perspective to anyone who finds him or herself in conflict with another human being. Like that could ever happen, right?

You should also know that if you want to slap me by the end of this post, you are not alone. My 21-year-
old self has already rolled her eyes multiple times and taken the back of her hand to my face on more than one occasion.

Here is my my radical proposal... the church on earth would make a lot more headway in kingdom work if we stopped viewing ourselves as different denominations of the same religion, and started realizing we are different branches of the same military.

I know, it probably isn't that radical. Paul speaks of being a good soldier of Christ in his second letter to Timothy (chapter 2). And while maybe you weren't bred into a deep and abiding love for our nation's armed forces, hang tight. This will apply to you!

In my father's 29+ years as an officer in the United States Navy he had the opportunity on many occasions to work with other branches of the military. It wasn't optional. It was necessary. In fact, he even worked with different branches of other countries' militaries. In the process, he witnessed and experienced conflict between individuals, a phenomenon that is present even within the same military branch. But he also witnessed extraordinary cooperation. Such as when America's armed forces rushed to the help of Haiti after a devastating earthquake. Or when he worked in the Pentagon for the Joint Chiefs of Staff and helped develop military strategies for 15-20 years into the future. He developed deep admiration for men and women in different branches of service, many of whom he considers dear friends to this day.

In his own words: "Despite conflicts, differences of opinion and even some included doctrinal differences, unity of mission was overriding." 

When we as a church view ourselves simply as "denominations" it implies that what makes us who we are is defined by the differences we have with others of the same faith. When we are different branches, it implies that we are all connected to the same source. We are working toward the same purpose in different ways. We are growing from the same tree, if in different directions.

And this is beneficial for at least 3 reasons-

1. We can identify who the enemy is, and isn't. We remember the enemy isn't our neighbor. Never has been. If Christ didn't make that clear enough in His parable of the Good Samaritan (where the "bad guy" was the only one who did the right thing), Paul removes all doubt of this in Ephesians 6:10 ff. Seriously, how much time do we waste fighting within ourselves while Satan sets about breaking our world and distracting those who would rely on Jesus?

2. We can return our focus to helping those who are under the tyranny of sin and the devil. Without all the finger pointing, we are freed up to share intelligence. We don't start acting like the other branch, but we learn from them and apply that knowledge to our own situations. The church is a living, breathing thing. It stands firm on eternal truth while growing to meet the needs of the world around it.

3. We can see the value in other branches. Each branch brings something to the table. We need the
Navy and Army, Air Force and Coast Guard, Marines (technically under the department of the Navy) and Reserves of all branches.

Do I say we give up striving to live the truest form of the Gospel and forsake all doctrine in the effort to get along? Actually no. Don't forsake truth for grace. But neither should we forsake grace for truth. The only way to live in Jesus (who is both grace and truth) is to live in the tension between the two. It is harder, but without both sides, you only get half of the Jesus message.

And what is a more powerful way to earn a person's respect and open the lines of communication than to say, "I don't agree with everything you believe and you don't always agree with me, but I see the value in who you are and what you bring to the table"?

Maybe you don't see this conflict in your church. Maybe you have the opposite problem.

But I know for sure that in every church family there can be found someone we don't see eye to eye with on every situation. We see it in every arena where sinners gather, in fact. Perhaps someone who simply doesn't do things the way we would do them. Someone who speaks out of turn and comes off abrasive. Someone who posts ridiculous articles or rants on Facebook.

I can't give you any advice on how to change those people, but I can tell you that our perspective could go a long way in giving us peace in those relationships. It might even give us permission to respectfully step away from that person without feeling guilt over it. If we can't put distance between ourselves and that intolerable person, we need to look to the benefits above.

1. Remember who the enemy is (and isn't).
2. Shift your focus to those in need of your efforts.
3. Look for what that person brings to the table that is positive.

God put them in our lives for a reason. Pray and search diligently for that reason. Pray for that person. God will not deny the faithful prayer of a believer looking to reconcile with another one of His children.

Who is someone with whom you conflict that you can pray for today? Take a moment and intercede for them and for your relationship with them. Then let's trust God to do what He alone can do- reconcile. He is faithful.

He Is Faithful

Last week, I was diagnosed with two not-so-rare disorders. On the same day.

The first: Misophonia- literally "hatred of sound", is a neurological disorder in which negative experiences (anger, flight, hatred, disgust) are triggered by specific sounds. A dear friend listened to me complain about virtually every sound my family makes while eating. Dr. Phil did a segment on it, which she happened to watch that night, so she led me to my self-diagnosis. It's mild, don't worry.

The second: Compassion Fatigue. Later that morning, I told the Lord what I needed and He delivered Amy right to me- from 3 1/2 hours away! She suggested I had compassion fatigue. Basically, I was burned out. I'm no Mother Theresa, but I was just tired and wanting to hole myself up away from the world. Pity-party of one please.

I prayed. I read. I got through those hard days. I went to worship on Sunday and Bible study on Monday and things were looking up- WAY up. And not because I really did anything- God was reminding me that I didn't need to do anything except spend time with Him. My Martha was overcoming my Mary.

Then this morning hit, and the tasks of the upcoming garage sale started to tighten my chest. I was short, snippy. My house was too messy, my kids too loud, and my temper too wild. A quote from yesterday's cursory sweep of The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis, came back into my memory- "It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds; in reality our best work is done by keeping things out." It was a smack of reality- my mind was filled with the to-do's and crowding out what rightfully belonged there.

Hadn't we just talked about this in Bible study? Quieting the inside chatter, thinking on those things which are true, Word in-Word out? Do not be anxious about anything...

My mind swept the Bible in my memory. What was that faithful verse I saw on the desktop? I ran to the computer and there it was on that pale yellow sticky-note. The words that brought me His Peace:

The one who calls you is faithful. He will do it. 

1 Thessalonians 5:24

Throughout the week He fulfilled this verse over and over in my life, more times than I know. He kept me like He said He would. When my world was out of whack, He brought me His peace, His Spirit. He strengthened me.

He was faithful. He still is. He always will be.

I pray for you, dear Friends. I really do. I thank God for you. Please pray for me- that this verse reminds the both of us of just how faithful He is. Pray for our church sale, that if it is His will all goes well, we raise the funds needed for our men to travel to Kenya. Pray that those who come are blessed by the items, food, and people, but most of all that they witness the love of Christ in every breath breathed within those walls. Our God is so faithful.

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Linking late with the lovely Simply Beth!

Messy Monday: Schrapnel in the Sanctuary

There was a full-out war being waged during church yesterday morning, and the shot heard round the sanctuary was fired by my three-year-old daughter.

Let me preface this story with some facts pertinent to your grasping of the situation:

 

1. I am the praise team leader, so Sunday mornings can be pretty exhausting with the four kids and worship, and sometimes I feel like I need multi-tasking steroids to power through the service. (I would contend that most parents of little ones feel the same way.)

 

2. If you picture the seating of our sanctuary like a cross with the congregation seated down the middle of the tall beam and the altar at the top, our praise team "loft" is in the left cross beam section and slightly raised. Kind of like where a choir would sing or a handbell choir would play. Since our praise team pews are turned toward the center of the sanctuary, not the altar, my children are able to sit in the center pews just a few feet away and I am able to sit with them while we aren't singing.

 

3. I play an electric autoharp and sing as well.

A warm-up and some run-throughs and the service starts as usual. My husband welcomes the worshipers warmly and invites them to share the peace with those around them. As I don't play the first piece, I settle in to sing one of my new favorites, Take My Life. (A contemporary rendition of the hymn "Take My Life and Let it Be.")

Whether it was her middle-of-the-night excursion that put her into a more volatile mood than usual, or that she was just plain tired of asserting the independence she displayed all by her big-girl-self at Sunday school, I'll never know. But somehow the words to the first verse of our song trigger an immediate hunger, the pangs of which stab her poor tummy to tears, and that whole fifteen minutes since her last cupcake was fraught with carrying Sunday school projects and finding a seat in one of three of our usual pews, so naturally she has worked up quite an appetite that needs to be satisfied immediately. Did I mention IMMEDIATELY?

And as I am mic-ed for this song (and turning the mic off would be a bit obvious), I am forced to deal with the utterly public and nuclear meltdown transpiring before me and the entire congregation with a series of clumsy and ultimately futile gestures mixing baby sign language, mommy sign language, and dull stares by the only helpful child within eyeshot. (The eldest child politely minding her business a few pews back with some friends.) The boy  is staring at me, completely lost. I really need to learn more sign language.

I manage to catch a stray word amidst the singing and sobbing and something sounds like, "I need a snack! I can't find a snack!" I motion to check my bag (keep in mind I am still singing, and now glaring), but she insists there is no food in there. Not one crumb. (There is, and she has literally made no attempt to search its contents, but that's besides the point.) So, desperately and fully aware of the bad decision I am making, I point to the small Tuperware sitting beside my bag on the pew.

The Tuperware filled with cupcakes. The minion cupcakes our dear friend made for my son for his birthday. The minion cupcakes containing the dye that has tattooed many a little face with royal blue five o'clock shadows. "I can have a cupcake?" I shake my head wildly yes as I reach for the autoharp to begin our next song. (Grace Like Rain, my new favorite version of "Amazing Grace.")

I play and sing as my peripheral vision reveals the ruthless tearing open of the container. The invasion of little hands descending upon those pour, unsuspecting minions. Oh the carnage as minions are devoured whole, their remnants smeared on floor and pew. The only evidence of their existence: a smurf-blue lake of frosting ground into the church carpet and bits and pieces strewn down pew cushions.

Confectionary POW's

And all the while we sing, Hallelujah, all my stains are washed away. They're washed away... (No joke.)

The sacrifice is great, but I count it all worth it because the beast has been pacified until the chorus strikes her parched tongue. A scream of "WATER," and I'm back to square one...

  

I am painfully aware of the congregations less forgiving than ours. I hear the horror stories of harsh words spoken to struggling parents by people with a fabricated remembrance of when their children were little. Having forgotten the shame and despair that comes when you feel you have reached the end of your rope, they can't empathize with the exhaustion and feeling of powerlessness in the face of a disobedient child who knows better.

My girl knew better and she still did it. She was disciplined, but I'm not counting on her never faltering again. I love her just the same.

God chose us before the creation of the world. He knew what we would do, but He made the choice to create us.

He knew we would complain. He chose to satisfy anyway.

He knew we would wander. He chose to bring us back- even if we had to feel pain in the process.

He knew we would abuse He mouthpieces. He chose to raise them anyway.

He knew we would reject His Son, beat Him, taunt Him, yell at Him, kill Him. He still chose to send Him.

He knew we wouldn't fully "get" what our salvation truly meant while we were on this earth. He chose to let us live in that salvation and hope even now- not just after we die.

He knew we would bind ourselves to other gods, seek our own wisdom. He gave us His word, His body, His blood, as real-life tangible pieces of Himself to open our eyes to the God He is.

His sacrifice was more than just a mess made in a hasty attempt to shut us up- it was a choice. He planned it. It was messy, no doubt, but it was worth it.

Because I have a new life to celebrate today and every day, and I am full.