"You've got some of our toughest kids in your club."

The comment, made in passing by the school's principal, struck me.  A photo album of kids' faces began to play in my mind: Davanté, whose dad was facing jail time; Shar and Jaden, who lived with their parents and four siblings in a dumpy hotel room; Keith, whose depressed mom spent most of her time in bed.  The images continued:  Siafulu, whose oldest sister was a practicing witch; Juan and Maria, whose dad was on his third war-zone deployment; Alicia, who spent fall quarter in a domestic violence shelter with her mom.*

Is it any wonder these kids struggled at school?

*           *           *

In 2003, a team of volunteers from Anchorage Free Methodist Church started a weekly after-school Bible club at Wonder Park Elementary, one of three schools in the Russian Jack neighborhood.  Over the course of five years the "Good News Club" attendance roster expanded from a half-dozen students to 45.  During the '07-'08 school year, 19 children made first-time commitments to Christ or renewed previously-made decisions.

I've worked with Good News Club for the past three years.  When I tell people about Club, the number one question adults ask me is, "How can you have a Bible club in a public school?"  A 2001 Supreme Court ruling determined that Christian groups should be allowed to meet at local schools on the same terms as other community groups.  In the Anchorage School District, we are allowed to rent a classroom for $5 a week, a small price to pay considering the benefits which come from taking the Gospel into the school setting.

The questions I get from kids are much different from adults':

·         "Is Good News Club fun?"  If fun is measured by laughter and smiles, I would answer with an enthusiastic, "Yes!"  We incorporate singing, movement, drama and games to keep our Club meetings engaging.

·         "What do you do at Club?"  Each week we begin with a light snack, then spend time on a Scripture memory activity.  We'll sing a song or two, explore a passage from the Bible, and talk about how that passage applies to our lives.  We may sing another song or play a review game, just to make sure everyone understood the lesson.  Next, we'll hear an episode from the real-life adventures of a missionary.  Finally, we split into small groups to share our prayer requests and pray for one another.

·         "How long is Club?"  We meet from 3:30-4:45 … and the time flies by.

Time is an issue which often arises in my conversations with prospective volunteers.  I'm asked, "How much time will Good News Club require outside of the weekly meetings?"  Most volunteers need less than an hour each week getting ready for their part of Club, whether it's pre-reading the mission story, gathering materials for the Scripture memory activity, or sending "We've missed you" postcards to kids from their small group who have not attended Club for a couple of weeks. 

Based on the feedback I've received from our Good News Club staff, this minimal investment of time and energy pays dividends many times over.  At our end-of-the-year debrief meeting, one volunteer, a high-school sophomore, shared how honored she felt that the Club kids would share their secrets with her.  As the youngest of four children, she was finally able to know what it felt like to be a big sister.  Another volunteer talked about the spiritual growth she was able to see in the kids, and how good it felt to play a part in that.

I feel honored to work with the Wonder Park Good News Club.  When I think about the challenges many of these kids face, I realize how important Club is.  Every Thursday these boys and girls find sanctuary from the pressures of home and school.  They develop relationships with a stable team of teens and adults who genuinely care about them, pray for them, encourage them.  I have the privilege of knowing that I'm having a positive impact on these kids' lives here and now.

The impact lasts far beyond the present, though.  As these boys and girls come to Club, they learn about a God who loves them, who wants to spend forever with them in Heaven when their time on earth is done.  They hear about sin, and how their sin creates an obstacle separating them from God.  They discover how God sent Jesus to pay the penalty for their sin, and how simply by asking for God's forgiveness they can have the hope of forever with Him.

Hope.  These kids, buried under the weight of troubles unimaginable to many of us, find hope in Club.  This is truly Good News.

________________________

*While the examples cited in this paragraph are true, the children's names have been changed.

I recently watched the movie "Dead Man Walking."  For those unfamiliar with the film, it's based on the true story of a nun who comes alongside a convicted murderer and rapist during his final days on death row.  While the main focus of the story is on the relationship which develops between the prisoner and Sister Helen, a side plot tracks her efforts to reach out to the parents of the two teens who had been brutalized by this inmate and his friend.

Sister Helen walks a fine line with Matt, the prisoner.  While many label him an evil animal, she chooses to treat him as a human being worthy of love.  In her compassion, however, Sister Helen refuses to enable his denials and finger-pointing.  Rather, she pushes him to take responsibility for his actions, to stop blaming others for his choices and to own up to his sins.

In the final minutes of his earthly life, Matt takes this step.  He renounces his former denials of guilt and confesses that he had indeed murdered one of the teens and raped the other.  His repentance prompts Sister Helen to declare him a child of God.  "I've been called a 'son-of-something-else' before," Matt says, "but never a son of God."

Soon afterward, while strapped to the execution table, Matt is given the opportunity to speak to the witnesses who have assembled.  He asks the father of the young man he murdered to forgive him, and expresses his hope that his execution will bring peace to the parents of the young lady he raped.  Moments later, a lethal injection ends his life.

The parents are left with a choice.  Will they go to their graves hating this man who took so much from them?  Or will they choose to forgive him?  Will they see him as a vile pig, or a redeemed sinner?

In Luke 7:36-50, a woman known as the town prostitute interrupts a Pharisees' dinner party by crying on his guest-of-honor's feet, then cleaning them up with her hair, kisses, and a jar of perfume.  The Pharisee, Simon, is shocked by the woman's behavior.  Even more so, though, he is appalled that Jesus allows it to happen.  "If He were truly a prophet of God," Simon concludes, "He would know what kind of a woman this person was."

In Simon's mind, this lady was nothing more than the community whore.  She was the bottom of the barrel, trash.  Jesus challenges him to see her through different eyes.  In a previous encounter with this woman, Jesus knew that she had repented.  She was a new creation.  Her identity had been changed from sinful woman to daughter of God.  And, if she was a daughter of God, that made her a sister to others who called themselves God's people.

Sometimes it's hard to get beyond the labels people earn through their actions.  It's easy to write someone off as a drunk or a gossip or a freeloader.  But Jesus calls us to see beyond these labels.  Sister Helen is a fantastic example of this.  She saw the image of God in a raping murderer, loved him and called him to repentance, then embraced him as a brother in Christ when he confessed his sins.  May I follow her lead, and the model of Christ, and be a voice of redemption and reconciliation for those who need to hear it most.

The scene unfolding before me hardly seemed worshipful.  A group of three – two men, one woman – approached my table.  They bore the tell-tale signs of homelessness: unkempt hair, multiple layers of shabby clothing, the distinctive aroma that comes from hit-and-miss showering.  The taller male spoke.  "I hear this is where we can get food."

"This is your first time here?" I observed, feeling fairly confident it was.  I could identify most of our food bank clients’ faces, and to the best of my recollection, I hadn’t met these three.

"Yeah."

I handed them each a clipboard with some papers and a pen attached.  "Please complete the front side of this registration sheet and return it to me when you’re done."  They sat nearby and I returned to the paperwork scattered on the table in front of me.

The ringleader of the threesome provided running commentary as he wrote.  I tried not to pay too much attention to their conversation, but tuned in when he reached the question that asked, "Do you have a church you attend?"

"Church?" he queried.  "Does the Brown Jug count?"

*             *             *

My church, Anchorage Free Methodist, started a monthly food bank in our facility almost six years ago.  At that time, we were the only food distribution site serving Russian Jack, one of the poorest communities in Anchorage.  We started with a dozen clients, but within two years, maxed out at 97.  Currently we serve an average of 60 families a month.    

We purchase most of our non-perishable items from the Food Bank of Alaska warehouse, the clearinghouse for food drives held throughout Anchorage.  In order to cover their operating expenses, they charge us (and other distribution sites) an eighteen-cent-per-pound service fee.  Bread, produce, dairy, and other miscellaneous items come primarily from twice-weekly gleanings at a nearby Carr’s store.  Clients pay nothing for the food they receive; our food bank is funded by private donations and the occasional community grant.  The staff are all volunteers.

About a third of our clients are senior citizens living on fixed incomes.  As one 70-some year-old woman told me, "I get to choose: do I pay my rent, buy my medicines, or eat?"  A handful work part-time jobs, but many have physical disabilities which compound their financial challenges and prohibit employment.

Another half of our clients are immigrants to the United States.  Some of these families are "regulars" in that the salaries they make from their multiple low-wage jobs fail to cover the expenses of housing, transportation, and other bills.  Some just need a helping hand for the short term.  When Anchorage experienced an influx of Hmong families relocated from refugee camps in Thailand, many settled in our neighborhood and discovered our food bank.  Within a few months, however, most of these families had found jobs and no longer needed our assistance.

The remainder of our clients is a hodge-podge of single-parent families, seasonal workers, homeless people, and men and women addicted to alcohol.  Whatever their demographic, each of these individuals is a beloved child of God.  Some are living near to Him; others have wandered far.  Regardless, one of the goals of our food bank is to treat every client with dignity and respect.  Part of this involves attending not only to the physical needs of our guests, but also to their spiritual needs.  We pray with and for those who come, and try to follow-up on the requests they bring.  Several of our clients have commented on how they feel genuinely cared for by our staff.

*             *             *

Jesus makes an intriguing comment in Matthew 25.  He was discussing the Final Judgment with His disciples, and told how at that time, the Son of Man would divide the people into two categories.  On one side He would put the goats, described as those who neglected others who were hungry, thirsty, homeless, naked, sick and imprisoned.  On the other would be the sheep, individuals who cared for the less fortunate.  The sheep received an eternal reward for their compassion, while the goats warranted eternal punishment.

In the midst of this teaching, Jesus notes, "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me" (25:40).  The King of the universe is fed when the hungry receive food.  The God of Heaven drinks when we share a cup of water with the thirsty.  When we house the homeless, clothe the naked, tend the sick and visit the imprisoned, we are ministering to the Lord Himself.  Isn’t this worship?

My youngest son was born premature and spent eleven days in the NICU.  Late one night I went to check on him.  His nurse had taken her paperwork to his bassinet, and was filling it out while snuggling with him on her shoulder.  She didn’t need to do this.  She could have stayed at her desk.  Yet she chose to go the extra mile to nurture my baby.  This made me feel nurtured.  Because of my love for my son, acts of kindness toward him affected me. 

When we care for one of God’s beloved children it’s as if we are caring for the Father Himself.  Even though this sort of compassionate ministry doesn’t always feel as worshipful as Sunday morning, it’s every bit as meaningful.  We are reaching the least of the brothers and sisters … even those who now worship at the Church of the Brown Jug.

Leave it to me to turn brushing my teeth into an exercise in introspection.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve started brushing my teeth on the bottom left side.  I move around to the bottom right, catching the bottom front along the way, then repeat the same sequence across the top.  This pattern worked well for me until recently.

About a month ago, I developed sensitivity to toothpaste on my second-to- back-left molar.  The moment that minty gel hit this tooth, an icy knife of pain shot through my mouth.  I began to brush more gingerly, but the sensation continued.

Last week I had an epiphany.  What would happen if I brushed that tooth later, rather than at the very beginning?  Could it be that having the toothpaste less concentrated would help alleviate the discomfort?  I tested my hypothesis for the first time a couple days ago.  It worked!

Three brushings in to this new dental scheme, I realized how much effort it took me to remember to start on the right side and not the left.  It’s hard to change a many-decades old pattern. 

Then it hit me.  Change in and of itself is hard for me.  I like the familiar.  It’s comfortable to do what I know, even if what I know isn’t necessarily the best for me.  Change introduces a degree of uncertainty.  How will this change impact my life and the lives of those I care about?  Is this change a good idea?  Will it be beneficial in the long run?

I’ll admit that at times my default is to focus on the potential negative impact of change.  Allow me to illustrate my point with something a little deeper than dental hygiene. 

Recently Jason started working as a substitute teacher for the Anchorage School District.  While this was a necessary change, and while I fully supported it, sometimes I caught myself dwelling on the losses this change would bring about.  On days he subbed, I wouldn’t be able to have lunch with him.  We’d need to get up earlier.  The school district’s automated "Sub Finder" could call our home with job offers as late as midnight and as early as 5:30am.  This change was going to disrupt our comfortable status quo. 

In my better moments, though, I thought about the positives that could come from this situation.  Jason would have the opportunity to interact with many people who don’t yet know Christ.  He could gain empathy for the day-to-day reality of those who are employed in the secular workforce.  He’d have his patience stretched, learn flexibility, obtain an outlet for his creativity.  The more I considered this, the more optimistic I became.   

If loss is an inherent component of change, I wondered, is it possible gain could be, too?

Back at my bathroom sink, I came to the conclusion that it’s important for me to spend time with both the losses and the gains.  If I dismissed or ignored my feelings of loss, they could come back later in the form of resentment.  Better to grieve now, to acknowledge that the losses are hard, and recognize them as a natural part of life on this earth.  At the same time, I needed to balance the losses out with a recognition of the gains.  Since God promises to bring about good in all things, I can trust that God will use this change for His glory and my growth.

While I’m on this subject of change, some changes are coming to this blog.  I’ve been asked to serve as a contributing author for "Front Yard Worship," a monthly magazine produced by a local Christian songwriters’ guild called Oikeo music.  Recognizing that there simply isn’t room for anything else on my plate, I’ve decided to shift the focus of this blog.  Rather than continuing my study of Acts, I’ll post my Front Yard Worship articles here, along with any other random thoughts which might occur to me throughout the month. 

Speaking of random thoughts, it’s getting late.  Time to shut down my computer, wash up, and brush my teeth … starting on the right side, of course.

During the summer of 1996, I served alongside three other graduate students as chaplains at a hospital in rural central Kentucky.  My regular weekly rotation consisted of Women’s Health, the Mother/Baby unit and the Emergency Room.  I visited women fighting cancer, chatted with new moms and their babies and talked to survivors of car crashes and other accidents.

Over those three months, four of my patients "expired."  (This was hospital-speak for "died," although it always made me think of coupons.)  In each of these instances, I was with another patient.  I know this sounds strange, but part of me wanted to be there at least once when a patient passed from this life to the next.  I wanted to witness that transition from earth to eternity, and to wrestle with all of the implications this passage held.  I believed this experience would have been life-altering for me.

My hunch is that it was life-altering for the members of the Early Church to watch their friend Stephen die.  You may recall that he was jailed on charges of blasphemy, a capital offense.  He delivered an impassioned defense before the Sanhedrin, tracing God’s work from Abraham through the prophets, and concluding with an indictment of the Jewish leadership for their role in Jesus’ crucifixion.

The Sanhedrin responded lividly.  Take a look:

When they heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him.  But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.  "Look," he said, "I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God."

At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, dragged him out of the city and began to stone him.  Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul.

While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit."  Then he fell on his knees and cried out, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them."  When he had said this, he fell asleep (Acts 7:54-60).

What was it like for the Early Church to see their friend treated this way?  Remember, Stephen was one of seven highly respected men who had recently been appointed to head the Church’s Food Bank in Jerusalem.  He was a key leader in the Christian movement.  And now a crazed mob had yanked him to the edge of town and was hurling rocks at him. 

What was it like for them to watch this unfold?  If I were in their position, I imagine I’d feel conflicted.  On the one hand, I wouldn’t want to abandon my brother in Christ by running away.  But if I stayed, the sights and sounds of my dear friend’s brutal death would be seared on my mind forever.  It would haunt my dreams. 

In the case of Stephen’s martyrdom, at least one person chose not to look away.  Did you catch this?  Verse 58 says, "the witnesses laid their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul."  Saul didn’t look away.  He heard and saw it all.  And I believe it altered his life.

Not long after Stephen’s execution, Saul had an encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus.  Everything about his life changed, including his name.  Now known as Paul, this former persecutor of Christians and hater of Jesus became a leader in the church … just as Stephen had been.  Paul traveled the known world, spreading the Gospel. 

One of Paul’s closest companions was a doctor named Luke.  Luke was not only a physician, but also an author.  His Gospel and the Book of Acts were based primarily on interviews with people who had witnessed the events of Jesus’ life and the Early Church firsthand.  One of his primary sources?  His friend, Paul.   

I can’t say this for sure, but I have a pretty strong hunch that the account of Stephen’s death found in Acts is founded on Paul’s recollection.  And, assuming this is true, I find it telling what Paul shared with his friend.  It’s not the screaming of the crowd.  It’s not the sight of Stephen’s blood.  It’s not the smell of sweat and the sound of rocks on flesh.

What did he remember?  Stephen praying.  Despite all of the other details that could have been recorded, the focus is on Stephen’s words.  As rocks pummeled him, as his bones broke and his skin bled, Stephen prayed.  First, he committed his spirit to God.  Then, with his final breath, Stephen prayed God’s mercy for his murderers. 

Luke writes that Stephen "fell asleep."  That’s about as innocuous sounding as saying he "expired."  My hunch, though, is that his passing was anything but bland.  For those witnesses to his death, Paul included, it could only have been life-altering.

This may sound morbid, but I’ve been thinking about death this week.  I’ve been reflecting on Stephen’s martyrdom (Acts 7) and considering Jesus’ crucifixion.  I’ve wondered what it was like for those who witnessed these events.  What was it like for the members of the early church to see Stephen, one of their church leaders, dragged to the edge of town by a rabid mob of Jews?  Did they turn away as the stones rained down on him?  Or did they watch in horror, not wanting to look but unable to turn away as their fellow believer, their friend, their brother was executed?

Two years ago I attended a training seminar on worship.  Rather than lecturing on worship, the teaching team guided us through a worship experience, recreating a Good Friday service they had conducted at their church.  At one point, a woman sang while clips from "The Passion" played on a screen behind her.  Having not seen the movie, I was floored by what I saw.  The images which stick in my mind most are those of Mary watching her son be beaten, whipped, and ultimately nailed to a cross.  I could imagine her inner torment as she watched the one she loved die.

As Jesus hung on the cross, He saw his mom and John standing nearby.  He brought the two together, saying to his mom, "Dear woman, here is your son" and to John, "Here is your mother."  I believe Jesus knew that these two people loved him deeply, and that they would need one another to walk through the grief process.

In Acts 8:3, we read that "godly men buried Stephen and mourned deeply for him."  Eugene Peterson translates this verse as follows: "Good and brave men buried Stephen, giving him a solemn funeral—not many dry eyes that day!"  I believe the church came together to grieve his death.

In our day and age, many people are uncomfortable with the grief process.  Many feel a subtle pressure to "hurry and get over it," to "be strong," to "move on" with their lives after a loved one has died.  American culture doesn’t help.  Workplaces allow limited time off for grieving before expecting their employees back and productive as ever.  Some people spout platitudes in an effort to make the pain of mourning friends go away.  Sayings like "It was God’s will that so-and-so died" are intended to help, but can often make the pain worse.  Not only has their loved one died, they think, but it was God who made it happen.

I’m a horrible griever.  I stuff back my feelings.  I use busyness to numb pain.  I keep my grief to myself, in part because I don’t like feeling it and in part because I don’t want to hear others’ platitudes.  But this year I’m trying to do something different.  The past 10 months have been loaded with losses – deaths both literal and figurative.  As Holy Week 2008 unfolds, I’m trying to allow myself time and space to grieve these losses.  Rather than rushing to the celebration of Easter Sunday, I’m letting myself linger on Good Friday.

I believe this has been a rough year for many people at AFMC.  I’ve heard story after story of loss and heartache.  My prayer as that we, as a body, might uphold one another in our grief.  May we stand together like the early church.  May we come alongside one another like Mary and John.  May we resist platitudes.  May we fight the urge to airbrush pain with artificial smiles.  May we be authentic in our grief, and as we comfort one another, may we experience the promised comfort of Christ.

I consider myself to be a focused driver.  When I get behind the wheel, my goal is to get from Point A to Point B in the most expeditious manner.  Take the morning drive to Zach's school as an example.  I've got it all mapped out.  Stay in the left lane of Debarr between Costco and Alaska Regional so that you avoid all the people turning right at Northway, Airport Heights and the hospital.  Change into the right lane immediately after clearing Regional or you'll get bogged down in the Lake-Otis-left-turn traffic.  Stay in the right lane through Fairview.  Even with the side-street turners, the move will pay off when you see the back-up of folks wanting to hang a left at Gambell.   

I don't dilly-dally when I'm driving … and I don't like it when others dilly-dally.  I believe that speed limit signs are there to tell you how fast you should drive.  If the sign says "40" and the roads are in decent shape, then you should drive 40.  Don't fiddle around at 30mph admiring the scenery and yammering on your cell phone!  I've got places to go!  C'mon!

(Yes, sometimes I do talk to other drivers, fully cognizant that they can't hear a word I'm saying.  I find it therapeutic.)

I confess that I approached Acts 7 with a similar focused attitude.  The chapter opens with Stephen's speech to the Sanhedrin in which he defends himself against the false allegations recorded at the end of chapter 6.  I was tempted to whip right through the first 53 verses of this text so that I could get on with the action of Acts, the part where the crowd gets whipped into a frenzy and stones him.  I didn't see the need to spend a lot of time on Stephen's retelling of the history of Israel.  Then I bumped into some words about Moses which caught my attention.  Take a peek:

When Moses was forty years old, he decided to visit his fellow Israelites.  He saw one of them being mistreated by an Egyptian, so he went to his defense and avenged him by killing the Egyptian.  Moses thought that his own people would realize that God was using him to rescue them, but they did not.  The next day Moses came upon two Israelites who were fighting.  He tried to reconcile them by saying, "Men, you are brothers; why do you want to hurt each other?"

But the man who was mistreating the other pushed Moses aside and said, "Who made you ruler and judge over us?  Do you want to kill me as you killed the Egyptian yesterday?"  When Moses heard this, he fled to Midian, where he settled as a foreigner and had two sons (Acts 7:23-29).

Moses had a grasp of his final destination.  He knew that God was going to use him to rescue his people from captivity in Egypt.  This was true.  Unfortunately, Moses was so focused on where he was going that he disregarded God's plan for getting there.  He took what seemed to be the quickest route – and ended up with Egyptian blood on his hands and a quick ticket out of town.  

Sometimes I can get ahead of God.  I see what God wants, and in my impatience to get there, I take off on my own.  Rather than walking alongside of the Holy Spirit and following His lead, I run ahead on my own … and usually foul things up.

I'm trying to slow down a bit these days, to listen to God more and not hurry so much.  It's a struggle for me, because I'm a driven person.  But I'm recognizing that there is wisdom in taking my time.  The quickest route may work to get me to Zach's school, but in the complex world of human relationships, speed doesn't really matter.

I spent a decent portion of my early years in trouble.  Let's just say that I could be a bit of a handful.

Sometimes the punishment for my actions was just, like the time I colored all over one of my bedroom walls with crayons and ended up having my artwork covered by fruffly pink floral wallpaper.  But sometimes I bore the consequence of one of my siblings' misdeeds.  This made me furious!  However, as the youngest child, I lacked the persuasive skills necessary to convince my parents that I was innocent.
 

To this day it bothers me to be falsely accused of wrong-doing.  I don't like having my character assassinated or my integrity incorrectly impugned. 

Given this truth about myself, I find Stephen a particularly amazing Christian.  First, in Acts 6:5, he is one of seven men chosen to oversee the daily distribution of food to needy believers.  He's chosen because his peers see him as wise and upright.  In fact, of the seven men listed, he's specifically described as "a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit." 

Three verses later, he is called "a man full of God's grace and power" who was used to do "great wonders and miraculous signs among the people" (verse 8).  When I look at this, I think Stephen must be a pretty amazing guy.  Not everyone was enamored with him, though:

Opposition arose, however, from members of the Synagogue of the Freedmen (as it was called)--Jews of Cyrene and Alexandria as well as the provinces of Cilicia and Asia. These men began to argue with Stephen, but they could not stand up against his wisdom or the Spirit by whom he spoke.  

Then they secretly persuaded some men to say, "We have heard Stephen speak words of blasphemy against Moses and against God." So they stirred up the people and the elders and the teachers of the law. They seized Stephen and brought him before the Sanhedrin.

They produced false witnesses, who testified, "This fellow never stops speaking against this holy place and against the law.  For we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and change the customs Moses handed down to us" (v9-14).

If I were Stephen, I think I would have been royally miffed.  These guys were telling lies!  My jaw would have been clenched, my brow furrowed, my eyes burning.  Yet in the face of these false accusations, Stephen's countenance reflected a glimpse of Heaven.  Verse 15 says, "All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel."

I don't know what an angel's face looks like, but my hunch is that Stephen radiated godliness.  In that moment, eyeball-to-eyeball with his accusers, I believe Stephen was able to reflect God's love.

I would like to be more like Stephen.  I would love to be known as a wise and Spirit-led person.  I'd be overjoyed if God would use me to perform miraculous signs and wonders.  More than anything, I'd like to be so filled with God's love that I could reflect Heaven in my responses to all situations … even when they seem unjust.

I first read the motivational leadership book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, in the mid-90s.  If having a good memory is one of the seven habits, then I must not be highly effective, because I don't really remember too much about it.  One point stuck out in my mind, though.  The author, Stephen Covey, made the point that often we get bogged down in what seems urgent at the expense of what is most important.  To illustrate, I'm writing this blog while surrounded by absolute chaos on my desk.  Every fiber of my being is telling me that I should tidy up this mess, but I know that if I were to start on that project, I'd end up putting off writing this for yet another day. 

Writing this blog is a priority for me, so for the moment I need to ignore the heaps of stuff on my desk.  It's not that having a tidy desk is a bad thing.  In fact, it's quite good.  However, writing this blog is the better thing.  It's part of the ministry I believe God has called me to.

The apostles had a strong grasp on this concept.  Take a peek:

In those days when the number of disciples was increasing, the Grecian Jews among them complained against those of the Aramaic-speaking community because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food.  So the Twelve gathered all the disciples together and said, "It would not be right for us to neglect the ministry of the word of God in order to wait on tables.  Brothers, choose seven men from among you who are known to be full of the Spirit and wisdom.  We will turn this responsibility over to them and will give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word" (Acts 6:1-4).

Hooray for the apostles!  Maybe it's just me, but had I been presented with this scenario, I probably would have tried to dive in and come up with some sort of system to take care of the problem.  I would have felt a personal responsibility to make sure to it that all of the widows were cared for fairly.

My hunch is that the apostles cared deeply for the people, too.  This was an urgent issue, and it required a resolution.  However, the apostles were wise enough to recognize that God hadn't called them to manage a soup kitchen.  He had called them preach, teach and pray.  Providing food for the widows was a good thing … but for the apostles, it wasn't the best thing.

Because the apostles recognized this, seven men who were called for this sort of ministry had the opportunity to step up and serve.  For them, overseeing the daily distribution of food was the best use of their time and talents.

I have to regularly remind myself of this principle.  The urgent presses in on me – the stack of dirty dishes, the mounds of unwashed laundry, the paperwork to be filed.  But if I allow myself to get too focused on what seems urgent, I miss out on what's really important – playing a card game with Ben, reading a book with Zach, curling up on the couch next to Jason, writing a note to a friend. 

These sorts of things don't exactly scream for my attention.  It's easy to put them off.  Yet the long-term consequences of neglecting what is important are serious.  I can't allow myself to spend time on stuff that is good at the expense of what is better.

The apostles provide a great model of this for me.  In all areas of my life, I need to ask myself, "Is this the best way to use my time and energy?  Is this God's best for me right now?"  If there's something better God would have me do, I don't want to miss it.

Now if only God would provide seven wise and capable men to do my dishes…

I read an advice column in the paper this weekend that made my blood boil.  A woman wrote in explaining how she and her husband had been actively involved in their church.  It sounded as though he was a trusted layperson because he had access to the church's finances … until it was discovered that he was embezzling.  The couple divorced and their assets were sold to repay what he stole.   

The woman explained that her church was in an affluent community and congregants were expected to tithe 15% of their income to support the ministry.  However, since falling on hard financial times, she had been unable to contribute that much money.  She felt shunned because of this and wanted to know if she should look for a different church.

Now, I recognize that this could be a perception issue.  This woman believes people are excluding her because of her tithing status when in reality others may feel uncomfortable around her because of what her former spouse did.  But let's assume that her hunch is right, that the church is rejecting her because of her socioeconomic status.  This makes me furious!  What about all those Bible passages on ministering to the poor?  This family fits the modern-day definition of widows and orphans!  Come on!  How can you call yourself a church if you exclude the very ones Jesus targeted with His ministry?

OK.  Time to bring my blood pressure down.  I'm going to break my keyboard if I continue to hit the keys so hard.

There's a part of me that wants to write this woman and apologize on behalf of all pastors.  I would hate to see her sour on faith because of this experience.  Unfortunately, this is exactly the sort of bad situation Satan uses to keep people away from the church. 

There's another part of me that wants to track down that congregation and have a strong word with them about how the church is supposed to operate.  And I'd like to speak with the pastor about this 15% mandated tithe.  Where's that in the Bible?

Something in Acts caught my eye which pertains to this situation.  Gamaliel, a Pharisee, was addressing the other Jewish leaders as they considered what to do about the pesky, Gospel-preaching apostles.  Here's his counsel:

Leave these men alone!  Let them go!  For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail.  But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God (Acts 5:38b-39).

As Christians, I believe we need to hold one another accountable to the truth.  If I see a fellow believer who is living in sin, it is my Biblical duty to say something about it.  By the same token, I need to be very careful to examine my own life.  It's easy for me to sit here and judge that other church … but how much of what I do is of human origin?  To what extent can I say that all I do is driven by my faith?  Do I take the time and make the effort to ensure that the purposes and activities of my life and ministry are godly?

As Gamaliel wisely observed, that which is of human origin will ultimately fail, while ministry that is guided by God's Spirit will endure.  I pray for this woman, that she and her kids will be able to find healing.  I pray for the ex-husband, that he will be penitent before God and receive forgiveness for his sin.  I pray for this church, that they would embrace the outsider before God has to shake them up.  And I pray for AFMC, that we will have an unstoppable, God-driven ministry.