LESSONS LEARNED FROM TOADS

I've spent a lot of time this summer cleaning a swimming pool. I have learned that toads like swimming pools. Well, they like pools until they don't like them any more; then, I guess, they hate swimming pools. At least, I think the toads would hate the swimming pool...except by then, the toads are dead.

I wonder how many toads drown in swimming pools across the United States every summer. Must be millions.

After I throw the dozen or so dead toads out of the pool filter basket, I try to rescue the live toads still searching for a way out of the pool. I like toads. Toads eat bugs. Toads remind me of happy times in the garden. (I knew it had been a long, lonely week - Steve away at work, the youngest working at 4-H camp - when I found myself talking to the toads I was chasing. Some people talk to their plants; some, to their cats; me...I talk to toads.)

Things I have learned from toads this summer, while cleaning a swimming pool:

Toads are much better swimmers than people.

Sometimes the things we think we absolutely must have - the things we most desperately want - are the very things that will destroy us. I'm pretty sure every one of those toads thought the water looked irresistibly delicious right before he hopped into the pool.

Very good things - like cool, clear water on a hot summer day - can become the very worst things, taken in excess.

Both the shallow end of the pool and the deep end of the pool are deadly - even for an expert swimmer - if you cannot use the ladder and you refuse the help of the big person standing on the deck.

Sometimes fear makes us run away from the thing we need the most. Not ONE of the toads I saved this summer swam toward me - they all swam as fast as they could away.

Blessings are found in unexpected places...like, "Hey, toad, that big scary woman sweeping a pool skimmer toward you really is your new best friend!"

And now, enough about toads. Time to get dinner on the table!

WHY DOES THE CHURCH NEGLECT HER OWN? (Part 4 of 4)

(This is Part 4 of a 4-part series. For previous posts, click: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3.)

Why does the church neglect and wound her own? I can think of lots of possible reasons: sin, apathy, laziness, self-interest, callousness, ignorance, denial, wrong doctrine, misplaced loyalties, blindness (sometimes willful), rebellion...

While the question deeply concerns me and is worth study, accurately diagnosing why a particular congregation of the visible church neglects or wounds its members is a job for someone with much more life experience and training than I possess. I am, however, qualified to say to someone who has been wounded by the church she loves: "You are not alone." If you are that person, I want to encourage you:

It is okay to acknowledge, "This happened to me, and it was wrong." Pretending that "It's all good!" when, in fact, it is NOT all good is not only not helpful - to you or to the church - it is harmful. Settling for a false short-term peace over the grungier long-term work of sanctification and spiritual health is like taking an aspirin to treat cancer.

Acknowledge the hurt, but don't make it your whole life. Of the churches mentioned in Part 1 of this series of posts, all three have serious problems that need to be addressed, but they also have many strengths and positive qualities. If you have been hurt by the church (or by someone in the church), resist the urge to paint the situation with one big brush - everything about the church/person is all bad, all the time. Acknowledge what is wrong, but also be mindful of what is good. Then, move ahead. The future is much bigger than the past.

Obviously, if you attend a local church where Scripture is not preached and taught accurately and faithfully, you need to find another church! Likewise, if your local church fosters and perpetuates attitudes, policies, and practices that undermine the spiritual health of its members, and if the church has a history of refusing to correct this situation, you need to find another church. Do not feel guilty about that.

Leaving a church you love is not an easy thing to do, and the decision to leave an unhealthy church is not one that should be made lightly. Dig deeply into God's Word and prayerfully seek your Father's will. Find other Christians to pray for you and with you. Seek outside counsel. Pray for God to guide each step as you walk this difficult path.

One of the beauties of the Gospel is that Christ redeems everything in the lives of his followers. This includes our wounds, our tears, and our brokenness. I see two ways (there are doubtless more) that a child of God can grow from and learn from a bad experience in the church:

First, these experiences expose ways that we are prone to make the church an idol. Yes, I should love my church and I should be able to trust my sisters and brothers in Christ, particularly my leadership, to have my best interest at heart and to love me well. But, where have I perhaps placed a level of confidence and security in others that I should place only in God? God is a jealous God, and He will not tolerate idolatry in his people - even if the thing I "worship" is a good thing, like my local church. Where I am convicted of such idolatry, I need to repent.

Second, ask yourself, "What have I learned from this experience that equips me to better love others in the church?" Going back to the three people mentioned in Part 1: The woman ignored by her church leadership knows personally how painful it is to be "put off" and forgotten; she knows that when a sister in Christ says, "I need to talk," she needs to make time to listen, the sooner the better. The young man given no satisfactory answers to hard questions, he knows personally how damaging trite answers and misapplied Bible verses can be to the souls of the wounded, and he will not want to do to others what was done to him. The young woman abandoned by her church, she knows now how important it is - how necessary, if we are to emulate Christ - to walk toward the suffering rather than away, even if it makes her uncomfortable.

When we've been hurt, we often want to focus entirely on the faults of the offender and on how that person needs to correct certain attitudes and behaviors. Listen to someone who has been there: you cannot control the behavior of others. What you can do, however, is choose how you will behave.

Every single one of us how the power to be a force for health, healing, growth, and meaningful relationship within the church. What will you do?

WHY DOES THE CHURCH NEGLECT HER OWN? (Part 3 of 4)

(Part 1: HERE. Part 2: HERE.)

I do not know why the church neglects and wounds her own. I do know...

It is not because the church loved me well that I grew to love Jesus. It is because Jesus loves me well that I am resolved to love the church. Even when I am neglected, wounded, weary, sore.

And toward that end, I pray: God, please grant me true repentance. Not lip service, but genuine contrition. Help me to turn away from this wickedness in my heart that inclines me not to love your bride.

I pray God will forgive me for simplistic answers and misapplied Bible verses, Scripture wielded like a bludgeon against the stumbling and the broken-hearted.

I pray God will forgive me for settling for shallow, superficial relationships. Of  saying "It's so good to see you!" on Sunday morning, then giving no thought to that person throughout the week. Lord, give me the desire for and equip me to pursue relationships that are intentional, engaged, intimate, inconvenient.

I pray God will forgive me for my self-defensiveness, lack of faith, and fear of dark places of the soul. Jesus went to hell and back for his people. Why do I think He expects me to do less? Jesus says, "Follow me."

I pray for eyes to see the needs of those around me, and for wisdom and discernment to know how to love my sisters and brothers well.

I pray that God will cure me of lethargy, passivity, and self-interest.

I pray for courage to walk toward the hurting and into the strife, not away, even when I am hurting, too.

I pray for integrity, the moral strength to tell the truth instead of ignoring sin or pretending everything is fine when it is not, simply because I fear the reactions of others.

I pray for mercy, for me and for the church I love.

WHY DOES THE CHURCH NEGLECT HER OWN? (Part 2 of 4)

(For Part 1 of this series of posts, click HERE.)

I do not know why the church neglects and wounds her own. I do know...

Within the visible church - those gathered under the name of Christ - there are both wheat and tares, sheep and goats, true shepherds and hirelings; and while I may think I know which is which, only God knows the true condition of a person's heart.

I know that even among wheat, sheep, and shepherds, we are not all at the same place at the same time, spiritually speaking. My faith journey and yours will not look exactly the same. I may be blind to things that you can see. You may be unaware of things to which I am spiritually sensitive. We need much grace, for ourselves and as we relate to one another.

I know that even the church - a very good thing - can become an idol. I am tempted to look to the church to satisfy and sustain me, rather than looking to Jesus. When the church utterly fails me, I realize how much of my faith I have put in the church, in the people who make up the church, instead of in God.

I know that the church is a redeemed harlot, and that old ways are hard to leave behind. Like the prostitute in 2 Kings 6, those within the visible church will even "eat their own children." And yet Christ, possessing power and love that we cannot comprehend, looks at his sin-scarred bride and says: She is precious to me; I will redeem her; I WILL redeem her.

I know that my redeemer calls me to love as He loves, even the most unlovely, and especially his bride. To answer that call, I must keep my focus on and fan my desire for Jesus.

Come, Lord Jesus!

WHY DOES THE CHURCH NEGLECT HER OWN? (Part 1 of 4)

It scares me, sometimes, to sit down here at the blog and put my fingers to the keyboard. How appropriate that Scripture exhorts Christians to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling," for fear and trembling are close acquaintances!

How is it that God compels me to write this or to write that? God lays a burden on my heart, or speaks with ringing clarity through a passage of Scripture or through a brother or sister in Christ, or He meets me in a particular circumstance of life, or in some other way stirs me up so that, without fully understanding why, I am compelled to write.

I often ask, "Why? Why must I write about this, Lord? Why now?" Sometimes He tells me why. A comment or a private message: "Thank you so much for this post. It is exactly what I needed to read today." - or - "Your words have given me new courage." - or - "It is good to know I am not alone." Sometimes, the answer to my "Why?" is a stinging rebuke that leads me to repentance or a challenge that stretches me, pushes me outside my comfort zone.

Often, however, my "Why?" receives no answer.

Then there are times when, compelled to write, I respond: "Really? Must I go there?!" I protest, balk, stall, fighting against the fire growing inside my bones. "No, Lord! Please, do not make me go there!" I love writing here at the blog, but let me be honest: so many of these posts are bathed in tears, written only after long resistance and great struggle.

So it is today.

Today's post is difficult for me to write, for it is written from a broken heart. God has not told me why, or to what end, only to write. I do so with fear and trembling, desperate for and thankful for the prayers of those faithful sisters who take my name often into the throne room of God. I suspect this may grow into multiple posts...I really have no idea...know only that I can no longer bear the fire, and so I must begin.

* * *
"It was a difficult time in my life. My family was disintegrating around me. A close friend died. I was confused, angry, and depressed. I struggled with some really hard questions about God and faith. I went to my church for help. I was given no solid answers, only platitudes - people said I needed to have more faith, and just trust God.

"They offered me no comfort, no assurance, no real hope. I decided then that this Christianity thing was all a bunch of lies, people playing make-believe, trying to make other people 'do the right thing' so maybe we could all feel good about ourselves."

He shifted in his seat. "That's when I left the church."

So much sadness behind those young eyes.

* * *
"I need help. Can I please meet with the session?" The woman wondered if the church leader to whom she spoke noticed she was trembling.

"Absolutely. We have our regularly monthly meeting next week. I will put you on the agenda."

But next week's meeting was cancelled. One of the elders was out of town.

"Please, I need help. Can I meet with you?" she asked again.

"Of course. Come to our December meeting."

But December's meeting was a Christmas social for leaders and their wives, not a "business" meeting. Not a meeting for the flock. Certainly not a meeting for one sheep needing to talk about her problems.

"I need to talk to someone." She no longer tried to hide the trembling, and tears streaked down her cheeks.

"Oh! I am so sorry! Yes, certainly, come to our January meeting. Of course we want to help!"

But January's meeting was rescheduled. Somehow, the woman didn't get the message.

And then, she just disappeared. Was it strange that not one single person called to see if she was okay, to see if she was even still alive?

* * *
"Why did the women at ----/[her church] abandon me?" the young woman asked. "They said they loved me. They said they would always be here for me. But when I needed them most, they disappeared. I was completely broken, I was dying inside, and nobody even checked on me. Nobody prayed with me. Nobody told me they miss me. It's like they completely forgot I exist."

She paused, blinked several times and sniffed. "I love these women. They said they loved me. I believed them." She looked me in the eye. "Why did the women at ---- abandon me?"

I did not have an answer.

* * *
The three people mentioned above are real people. The three churches they attended, real churches.

These three people loved their churches. They were not nominal members, showing up only on holidays and potluck Sundays. They entered into church membership asking: "How can I serve?" They volunteered in the nursery, participated in and taught Bible studies and Sunday school classes, joined in youth activities, prayed for their church leadership, ministered to and wept with other church members. They desired to know God better and to love his people well.

These three churches - you can attend any one of them this Sunday. You will hear solid, biblical preaching from the pulpit. You will sing theologically rich hymns and worship songs. You can read in the bulletin about church programs and activities, opportunities for service, and missionaries and ministries supported by each church. You will be warmly welcomed by friendly, smiling people: "Nice to meet you! I'm so glad you're here!"

* * *
The three people mentioned above did not sink quietly into despair, hoping that someone would notice and take the initiative to help them. When they encountered trials, hardship, and serious faith challenges, they went to their church leadership and to other church members and asked for help.

Help was promised. Help was not given.

I don't have enough fingers to count the number of people who have related similar experiences to me recently. People neglected by and/or deeply wounded by the very ones who should have come to their succor, those charged with their welfare, their shepherds, their sisters and brothers in Christ.

Why does the church neglect and wound her own? I don't know why. That is the question behind this post and those following.

* * *
I do not want to end on a sad note.

God is gently working in the hearts of the three people mentioned above. He is bringing them through grief and despair into new life and hope. He has brought each into a fellowship where they can heal, learn, grow, and serve.

God is faithful, even when the church is not.

DRAGON TALES

Is there any prayer too weighty or any prayer too light to lift up in faith to a loving Father?

I was tasked with preparing the children's sermon for Sunday morning. Bill would be preaching from Acts 11, on how a critical spirit robs us of joy, and how truth transforms a critical spirit into a joyful spirit, a spirit able to see and to celebrate God's goodness and grace.

Peter, in Acts 10, had been critical of non-Jews, unwilling to associate with them. God changed Peter's heart, and then, through Peter's obedience, brought Cornelius (a Roman centurion) and several other Gentiles into the family of God.

Peter returned to his Jewish friends in Jerusalem, eager to share the good news of how God was bringing even non-Jews to faith in Christ. Peter's Jewish friends, however, were more concerned that Peter had spent time with and eaten with "unclean" Gentiles. They responded to Peter's news not with joyful celebration, but with criticism. Like Peter, they needed God to change their hearts.

Reflecting on the events of Acts 10 and 11, I thought of Eustace Scrubb, the boy who because of dragonish thoughts in his heart, became an actual dragon (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C. S. Lewis). Like Peter, and like Peter's friends in Jerusalem, Eustace had a critical spirit. He complained about everyone and everything, making himself and those around him miserable.

Eustace was a dragon long before he took on scales, claws, and leathery wings. His outward transformation simply reflected the inward condition of an already serpentine heart.

In order for Eustace to live - and to experience any measure of joy and contentment - he had to be un-dragoned. Just like Peter. Just like Peter's friends. Just like me.

And so, as I was praying and studying and thinking how best to present this lesson to young children, I thought, "I really wish I had a dragon to show the children, not a cute dragon but one that is fierce and dangerous, with sharp teeth and claws, one the children can see and touch."

I learned last week that dragons are very rare in Obion County. (Actually, dragons are everywhere here, but maybe because people are so desperate to deny these dragons exist, they refuse to keep even toy dragons around.) I looked everywhere I could think...no dragon.

Finally! I found a dragon, a perfect dragon - scaly, sharp-toothed, claws bared and outstretched - at Rural King in Martin. He was beautiful! He was also expensive, too expensive for my small budget, and definitely too expensive to justify for a one-Sunday-morning children's lesson. I returned the red dragon to the store display with a sigh. Maybe I could find another dragon elsewhere.

Saturday morning, still no dragon. And here is where my story gets fun...

I requested a book via inter-library loan at the OC library a couple of weeks ago. The book was expected to arrive a week ago last Wednesday. The book was not on my summer to-read list - I requested the book because it had been recommended by a dear friend.

The book took longer to arrive than expected. I received a call from the library on Friday - I could come pick up my book. "I can't make it to Union City today - may I pick it up tomorrow?"

"Absolutely! It will be waiting for you at the circulation desk."

Saturday morning, I drove to Union City for the book. "Lord," I prayed, "I know this is a ridiculous request, but could you please send me a dragon?" I thought perhaps Carolina, the children's librarian, might have a dragon. I would ask. "Please, Lord?"

Carolina wasn't at the library Saturday morning, and none of the other librarians knew of any dragons on the premises. I checked out my book and turned to leave.

Sign-up for youth soccer was at the library Saturday morning. I ran into my nephew and his young son. We exchanged greetings and hugs.

"You don't by any chance have a dragon, do you?"

"No, no, we don't have a dragon," my nephew grinned. He's accustomed to my strange questions.

I headed out the door. On the sidewalk out front, I met another nephew and his young son. (I'm from a large family.)

"Hi!"

"Hi! What are you doing here?"

We exchanged hugs. "You don't by any chance have a dragon, do you?" I ventured.

"Of course we have a dragon," Brian answered matter-of-factly. "Doesn't everybody?"

"No! I've been looking all over for one. Could I PLEASE borrow your dragon?!"

Brian turned to his young son. "Jack, may Aunt Camille borrow your dragon?"

Jack asked me a few questions: why did I want to borrow his dragon? how long would I want to keep it? would it be safe? He thought a moment. "Yes, you can borrow my dragon."

"We'll run it by your house this afternoon," Brian offered.

I drove home thanking and praising God. The Creator and Sustainer of the universe heard my silly little prayer and granted my request. It astounded me to think that weeks, even months before I had any desire for a toy dragon, God put wheels in motion to grant my request - the book loan, the delayed delivery, the summer soccer sign-up schedule, a "chance" meeting at the library.

Brain knocked on my door Saturday afternoon and delivered the dragon, the very same dragon, in fact, that I had found at Rural King earlier in the week. I had stood in Rural King, thinking how perfectly the dragon fit my purpose, and all the while, God had the same dragon waiting for me, in the care of my young grand-nephew.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader was published in 1952, twelve years before I was born. I discovered this beautiful story - and Eustace Clarence Scrubb - when I was a child, then rediscovered it when I had children of my own. God brought this story to mind again, last week, as I prepared Sunday's lesson.

Who knows how long ago a worker at a toy factory in Germany molded and painted Jack's small dragon. Who knows the intricate path this dragon traveled, across an ocean, to a toy store somewhere in America, to my little nephew.

To me.

Just the right place, at just the right time.

Thank you, Jack, for letting me borrow your dragon. He behaved beautifully at church on Sunday. He did not bite or claw anyone or set anyone on fire. He sat quietly beside me as Bill delivered a message about how God transforms the hearts of his people.

Little dragon, you have emboldened me to pray bigger, to pray braver. You have reminded me anew: there is nothing my God cannot do.

BRAVE

My children are the bravest people I know.

Of course, none of them are actually children any more. And while I suppose there may be braver people in the world, there are none braver within my circle of intimate acquaintance. By their brave example, my children encourage me to be brave, too.

* * *

When my passel of kids were all very young and I was feeling overwhelmed, I asked a wise older friend, "Does this mom thing ever get any easier?"

Her answer: "Yes, it will get easier...at least physically. You won't always be as exhausted and physically stressed as you are right now. But as your children get older, you will be stressed in different ways. Your body will not be so tired as it is right now, but your heart and your soul will be stretched beyond anything you can imagine."

One of the most difficult things I have ever had to do was give my children the freedom to fail in hugely significant ways. I'm not talking burn-your-hand-on-a-hot-coal or back-the-truck-into-a-fence-post kind of ways, although those were difficult for this mama, too. I'm talking break-your-heart and break-your-body and scar-your-soul kinds of ways. Not refereed tae kwon do sparring on the blue mats at the gym, but no-holds-barred and no end-of-match bell in the fight-cage of life.

This mama gig is hard, people. It's downright terrifying sometimes. I get that - I really do. It knocks you to your knees. As my youngest put it to me recently, "There's nothing like having a bunch of kids to invigorate your prayer life!" Amen, little sister!

Ask any of my kids, "What is your mom's 'Big Three?'" - and they will tell you, "God is sovereign. God is good. And He loves me very much." The Big Three - I believe them, in my head and in my heart, all the way into my very core. YES, I believe that God is sovereign, He is good, and He loves me very much - I really do!

But believing that for myself and believing it where my children are concerned: those are two entirely different things.

In my 53 years, God has taken me to some terrible places, dark places, painful places, scary places, and He has said to me, over and over, "Do you still trust me, Camille? Do you trust me even here?" And in every place God has taken me, He has proved himself trustworthy.

No, I don't particularly want to go back to any of those hard places, but I would not trade the deep soul assurance and peace God worked in me in those places for anything in the world, certainly not for a life of ease or a life free from pain.

But my children, Lord?!

Do you still trust me, Camille? Can you trust me even with your children, even here?

So, to my friend whose beautiful, young (and, yes, vulnerable) daughter is moving halfway across the country (as my own daughter, at a very tender age, headed halfway around the world - God, be merciful to me and to my child! Please, go with her" Stay close!), I want to encourage you: your daughter is stronger than you think. But more important, God is with her, and He is stronger than we can imagine.

Yes, your sweet daughter may get battered, even broken, in the brave living out of her life. But even in the scary broken places, remember (because it's just as true for your daughter as it is for you, dear friend!): God is sovereign, He is good, and his love for your daughter...well, let me put it this way...your love is a drop in the ocean compared to his love for her.

You can trust Him.

And to my friend who is struggling to loosen her protective grasp on her adult son, fearful to give up control of his life - But I know the temptations he will face! What if he falls into gross sin? What if he ruins his finances? What if abandons the faith his father and I have diligently labored to teach him? You don't know the dangers he may face?! The risks are too high...I cannot afford to let him fail! -

Dear friend, your beautiful son is already a man. Give him the freedom to stand or to fall as a man. Yes, he may fall - indeed, he probably will fall. I know the thought of terrifying consequences frightens you - I have sons of my own, and I have known this great fear, too

But I want to encourage you, friend: it is at that place of fiery trial, not under the sheltering protection of your motherly care, that this faith will become his own. It is there that your son will meet God "face to face." It is there that your son will see for himself that God is sovereign, God is good, and He loves his children very much. Would you "protect" your son from that?

You can trust God with your son.

* * *

My children are the bravest people I know. By their lives, they are teaching me to be brave, too - not only for my own sake, but for them, also.

Earlier this week, one of my daughter's posted this on FB: "I want this to be my theme song." Tasha Cobbs, "Break Every Chain." I LOVE IT. Take a few minutes to listen - you'll be blessed.

My theme song for this season of life? "Brave," Sara Bareilles. Turn on the music and dance with me!

("There's nothing like having a bunch of kids to invigorate your prayer life!" Dear sisters, I love you, and I am praying for you and for your children. Mamas, let us be brave. Let us be encouraged: we pray to a God who is sovereign, who is good, and who loves our children very much!)

GRIEVED

I don't know which grieves me most: outright rejection of the gospel by those openly hostile to Jesus, or subtle twisting of the gospel by those who boldly proclaim the good news of salvation in Christ and who "Praise Jesus!" liberally.

Both break my heart.

What do I do with this deep sorrow?

For the first, I pray that God will open the eyes of the unbeliever, that He will show her the beauty of the gospel, that He will grant her faith and true repentance and the joy that comes with full assurance of Christ's sufficient provision for sinners who put their confidence not in anything they are or do, but in him. I plead for the life-giving work of the Holy Spirit in the unbeliever's heart, because only God can raise the dead.

For the second, I pray that God will open the eyes of the unbeliever, that He will show her the beauty of the gospel, that He will grant her faith and true repentance and the joy that comes with full assurance of Christ's sufficient provision for sinners who put their confidence not in anything they are or do, but in him. I plead for the life-giving work of the Holy Spirit in the unbeliever's heart, because only God can raise the dead.

I do not see much difference between No Gospel and Vibrant, Enthusiastic False Gospel. Both are spiritual death.

And so I pray. "God, do what only you can do!"

And I worship. "Thank you, Father, for Jesus. Give me Christ, Christ, Christ ALONE."