The Faith Experience

When I see people who face real life tragedy full of faith, sure in Christ, I think, "Wow. What must they have been through in their lives to be that way." I think I understand. I don't want to have to have faith. It hurts to learn.

When God allows us to go through trials, it's not so that God can see how much we can handle. The same Bible that says that God allows us to be tried says that God will not test us with more than we are able to handle - and whatever He has allowed to come your way, He already has the resolution worked out.

Do you understand? God knows what you're made of - He knows how much you can handle.

So the purpose of the trial isn't for you to show God what you can handle - it's for God to show YOU what you can handle.

That's not an original thought, but it was new to me.

So while Heidi and I are home, and Lincoln is in the hospital, God is showing us our strength to teach us what to do when we're weak.

I like to do things myself. I like to deal with problems. I don't like avoiding people. I don't like beating around the bush. I don't like when there's an elephant in the room. I don't have patience for that sort of thing. When there's a problem, I like to handle it. If something's broken, I want to fix it.

I can't fix Lincoln. He has to beat the infection himself.

I can't repair Lincoln's lungs - he has to learn to breath on his own.

I can't tweak his internal thermometer - he has to gain weight to be able to keep himself warm.

I can't fix his low calcium or his high bilirubin levels - I have to let his body mature and grow through it.

I'm powerless. I stand by my son's bed, hoping for good news, but I can't do it. He's starting an antibiotic treatment for the next seven days. I can't talk it up. I can't turn the tide through force of personality of power of my will. I can't. I stand by, weak.

Faith, I suppose, is when submission meets powerlessness. I can't do anything, but I know someone who can. I've seen God work in the lives of others - my brother nearly died as a newborn/infant. But he's great now. In the past 3 days, I've heard countless stories from families who have endured similar situations and found God to be faithful, bringing their kids through and seeing them grow up. I've been encouraged by their testimony and moved by their love for Heidi and Lincoln and me. So faith, at this moment, is me saying, "God, I can't. I just can't. I'm too weak. I'm too tired. I simply don't have a way. But I know You can. I know You're able, because I hear testimony of what You've done in the past. Please, God, heal my son. Give him strength. Make him strong. Give Heidi and I peace during this difficult time. Help us to grow in You during this trial. Help us learn to trust You more."

Please, keep us in your prayers. Pray for Lincoln, because we want him to be healthy. Pray for Heidi, because she needs to continue to heal. Pray for all of us, because we need peace.

QUOTE: What I Believe (or, Your Faith is Too Small)

Madeline L'Engle:

What I believe is so magnificent, so glorious, that it is beyond finite comprehension. To believe that the universe was created by a purposeful, benign Creator is one thing. To believe that this Creator took on human vesture, accepted death and mortality, was tempted, betrayed, broken, and all for love of us, defies reason. It is so wild that it terrifies some Christians who try to dogmatize their fear by lashing out at other Christians, because tidy Christianity with all answers given is easier than one which reaches out to the wild wonder of God's love, a love we don't even have to earn.

I read L'Engle's book A Wrinkle In Time when I was in elementary school, but I feel like I need to rediscover her writings. I know she's somewhat of a universalist, but I think she was a peer and a friend of C. S. Lewis, who is my favorite author of all time.

But I like the quote - and it's a position I've been moving towards lately in some degree. Yes, there are things that we can know, but there is so much about God and eternity and life and creation that are so far beyond our comprehension and imagination ... sometimes we make Christianity too small and tidy. I have more to say on this issue, but it will have to wait for another blog post.

The Unlikely Interview - Jim Sleeva

NOTE: This was written as a project for a biography class in school. It was a privilege to spend this kind of time with Bro. Sleeva, and I'm incredibly thankful that he made himself available to me.

At first glance, Jim Sleeva is rather unassuming. He’s fifty-five, with thinning brown hair and a relaxed demeanor. While he’s dressed in a sharp grey suit, clean white shirt and a handsome tie, he strikes me as one far more comfortable in something far more casual. But upon further examination, it is easy to see that with Sleeva, there is more than meets the eye.

Sleeva has one of the busiest, most random schedules of anyone I know. When we met, Sleeva had just come from the Marion County jail, where he regularly teaches, preaches, and mentors the prisoners. Prior to the jail service, Sleeva had been at Indiana Bible College (IBC), teaching a class on foreign missions. As well as a staff instructor at IBC, Sleeva is the dorm supervisor and counselor. Since the inception of IBC twenty years ago, Sleeva has been involved in the development and growth of the school. Sleeva has also been a catalyst for Calvary Tabernacle’s Jesus House program, an inner-city outreach that takes Jesus and the church to the neighborhoods, offering tutoring and mentoring programs in addition to non-traditional, “out of the box” approaches to evangelism. Sleeva also serves on the board of Calvary Tabernacle and as a mentor to the Calvary Youth and Young Adult groups.

Sleeva’s history is as eclectic as his current interests: at age 16, he volunteered at the Pleasant Run Children’s Home, and at the age of 20, embarked on a trip to Germany that resulted in a mission’s effort that lasted 15 years, rather than the intended 3 month survey. Each time I hear him speak, he has a story or an illustration, recounting an experience that is deep in value and full of wisdom, applicable to situations far beyond my own.

As a young person growing up around Sleeva, I remember his work with and efforts to connect with a group of young people dubbed as “unlikelies.” Says Sleeva, “I like the challenge of trying to connect to people who are not like me.” He is the primary force behind the jail ministry, and is working to create programs to enable reentry, offering a sort of halfway house for convicts to come in, learn job skills, coping skills, and create a familial environment to foster a spirit of encouragement and success. “People from [a gang or criminal background] come from a broken family system. We [the church] need to create a new corrected family so they can have healing,” Sleeva explains.

Sleeva’s nontraditional ministries are coupled with a nontraditional approach. He is well versed in traditional “church speak,” and can clearly explain and teach doctrine when necessary, but he much prefers language like “this way cool thing that Jesus did” or “a huge green light in my spiritual vibes.” For some fifty-somethings, this kind of language feels forced, but with Sleeva, it fits. You really understand this is just who he is.

Sleeva’s ministry is to the fringe, and with this group, measuring success can be difficult. Success, for Sleeva, is “seeing them [the Unlikelies] respond to you. To connect to someone who doesn’t expect you to be interested.” He does it, he says, because “it felt like the right thing to do, whether they respond the way you would like them to or not.” You can’t measure success just in terms of numbers and immediate responses. Sometimes it takes years for someone to finally respond.

One example is a close friend of mine, Juan Lopez. Originally, Sleeva had been doing Bible studies with Juan’s brother, and Juan had always responded with hostility towards Sleeva. When Juan’s car broke down, Sleeva spent hours with Juan, working for free on his car, building a relationship of trust and respect. Juan was arrested, and was suddenly receptive to what Sleeva had to offer. While Juan was in prison, Sleeva orchestrated a work scholarship for Juan at IBC. Now, Juan is married, a leading salesman with his company, and an active minister at Calvary.

As a teenager in the youth group, I remember sitting around, hearing wild tales about Jim Sleeva and his exploits. While many of the myths have been dispelled, the mystery of Sleeva will never fade. He’s a strange missionary, doing far more than is expected, and accomplishing far more than anyone could ever know.

Knowing Who God Is

Pastor was preaching out of Daniel 9 today, and cited verses 3 and 4:

And I set my face unto the Lord God, to seek by prayer and supplications, with fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes: And I prayed unto the LORD my God, and made my confession, and said, O Lord, the great and dreadful God, keeping the covenant and mercy to them that love him, and to them that keep his commandments;

He talked about that, in spite of his secular success and political power, Daniel still prays. Even though Daniel had spent a night in the lions' den, he still prays. And when he prays, he prays with confidence. Daniel prays with confidence because he knows who God is.

When you know who God is, you will have bold confidence in Him. Bold confidence will affirm your walk, guide you, and keep you from wavering or being double-minded. Knowing who God is brings stability and consistency to a believer's life.

How does one begin to understand who God is? Through experience and through relationship. You can't know God as a deliverer unless you've been delivered. You can't be delivered unless you've been bound. You can't know God as a provider unless you've had a need that was unresolvable by your own efforts. You can't know God as a healer unless you've suffered from disease or sickness. You can't know God as a comforter unless you've needed comfort.

Before you can have a testimony, you have to have a test.

trying to be ...

lately, i've been thinking about what it means to really be a christian - christlike - and how arrogant it is for me to say "i'm a christian" or "i'm like christ". very rarely, it seems, does my behaviour actually reflect christ. now, i'm a good pentecostal, but that's only a sunday/wednesday thing. i want to learn to be a christian.

i was reading in 1 corinthians, looking at The Message (one of my favourite translations) and i came to chapter 13:

1 If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. 2 If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. 3 If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.

verse one also says, "though i speak with tongues of men and angels ..." in the KJV. i need to learn to love. not in the "i love you mom" sort of way, but have a genuine, compassionate, selfless love for everyone i meet. i want to learn to be nicer. i want to learn to be a christian, every day, everywhere i go. i want to reflect christ in everything i do. i want people to see me, and think about me, and say, "he's a christian."

i'm selfish; christ is selfless. that's the biggest difference.