"You're my son, whom I love..."

This semester I am helping lead a women's chapel at ACU that is about learning to see yourself and others the way that God does. This week I have been reflecting on where this distorted image came from in the first place. Why do people (and especially Christians) compare themselves to others, spend all kinds of time and money on outward appearances, look to others for affirmation/value/worth/satisfaction?

When I look at the Bible I can easily see a couple of things: (1) God does, has and will always love ME, (2) God does, has and always will love YOU (whoever and where ever you are), (3) God wants me to love HIM, and (4) God wants me to love YOU (again, whoever and where ever you are). If you read this blog or know me, you know I'm not very sure of much when it comes to the Bible. However, I am certain of those four things. And yet I find myself constantly battling self-doubt and judgment.

But, since the beginning of time the Evil One has been filling us with this doubt that God loves us and knows/wants what is best for us. In Genesis 3 the serpent says to Eve "Did God really say, 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden'? You will not surely die! God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil."

Satan always seems to know just how to get to us. After Jesus was baptized the Heaven's opened up and God said to Jesus "You my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased." Immediately following this encounter (at least in the Book of Matthew...) Jesus goes to the desert to be tempted. Satan tempts Jesus in several ways. He says things like "If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread" and "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down." "If you are the son of God" vs. "You are my son, whom I love." Some say that the first temptation of Jesus was food, but I think Satan is really testing his identity.

And isn't that what Satan does to us everyday? So we find ourselves looking at how we look in others eyes rather than in the eyes of the father. Judging ourselves and others by outward appearances rather than by the heart. Seeking to please men rather than seeking to please God. Convinced that if we were more popular/ prettier/ in a relationship/ running a marathon (btw when did this become the next big thing? haha)/ making better grades/ had more money than we would finally fill that empty feeling we always seem to have. Man, I hate that guy (Satan, I mean).

The only way to contradict lies is with truth. And, the truth is:

"I am fearfully and wonderfully made" Psalm 139 "The Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Sam 16 "See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are." 1 John 3 "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them." Gen 1 "You are altogether beautiful; there is no flaw in you." Song of Solomon 4 God's love is "wide and long and high and deep...and this love surpasses knowledge —so that we may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." Eph 3

Billboard God

Growing up in New Orleans I was somewhat unexposed to many things that Christian culture has seemed to make common place these days. For example, you know if you see someone walking in the French Quarter wearing a T shirt that says something along the lines of "A blood donor saved my life" with a cross, they're a tourist. I saw the occasional magnetic fish for the car bumper, but my experience of this kind of Christian propaganda was pretty limited.

Then I moved to Texas.

Abilene, Texas.

While I'm sure I had seen them at some point in my life before this transition, one of the things that I still can't get used to is the Christian billboard. We've all seen them. “JESUS SAVES” painted in large red letters. The infamous "Keep Christ in Christmas." My personal (least) favorites: The large black billboards with sarcastic/witty comments to the sinners of the world signed -God. The "God" billboards say things like "We need to talk," "Don't make me come down there," and "If you're going to curse, use your own name."

I wonder if anyone ever decided to follow Jesus after seeing one of these giant, roadside testimonies. I mean, there’s not much there. I wondered about what might go through a person’s mind after glimpsing one of these monuments. "JESUS SAVES" True, but how? And from what? And what difference should it make to me? It just didn’t seem like drive-by evangelism was the way to go.

I mean how many people are out there saying things like this:

“If only I’d seen a bumper sticker with some Christian catch phrase like ‘Real Men Love Jesus’, ‘My Boss Is a Jewish Carpenter’ or 'WARNING: In case of rapture this car will be unmanned' years earlier, I might not have made so many mistakes with my life.”

These God billboards grate on my spirit for two reasons: (1) I'm pretty sure that God isn't sarcastic, at least not about the fact that His greatest desire is for us to love him and love others. (2)When I look at the life of Jesus I am struck by the fact that he didn’t oversimplify things when it came to the truth. He talked with people, He wanted to find out who they were. With the Samaritan woman, He discussed living water; with the Ethiopian Eunich, the need to be born again. He asked the rich young ruler to give up everything had. Jesus didn’t proclaim a pre-packaged good news that could be reproduced in every culture and speak to every person’s heart.

Guess what? 2,000 years later this hasn't changed a bit. God still wants to talk with those who desire to know Him. He knows our greatest strengths and our greatest struggles. He knows the right and the wrong we commit. He sees the best and the worst parts of us -- and yet He still loves us.

If that's not good news, I don't what is.

Today felt long. For the past 6 months or so I have been seeing clients in therapy. I don't post about this for obvious ethical reasons. However, this morning I was reflecting about what my role as a therapist really is. I wish I could tell you I came up with something brilliant, but alas, I did not. I continued on to face my day to day tasks. I worked, I counseled, I wrote case notes, I did homework, I gave a presentation. I just dawned on me, as I have been reading up on some research for a therapy case of mine, that the way I get through a therapy session is much like the way I get through my own life:

I hope.

I hope with and for my friends and clients. I hope for the suffering people in Haiti whom I've never met. I hope for the church. I hope for the lost. I hope for my family. I hope for my roommates. I hope for my professors and I hope for my students. I hope for my classmates. I hope for the addicts and alcoholics I just met at the AA meeting I sat in on tonight. I hope for the kids I work with in the summer. I hope for myself. I just always hope.

A few years ago, I wasn't sure I know what it meant to hope. I thought that hope was a verb that required a direct object. Typically when the world talks about hope they say things like "I hope that you feel better soon" "I hope that God will bring you peace" "I hope that you will do the right thing" "I hope that everything works out" "I hope that..." I felt as if hope was something people had because they didn't know what else to do, and they were too afraid to admit the alternitive- that someone might not feel better, or that they might not ever get peace, or do the right thing, and that things might not work out alright in the end. But what I know now is that hope doesn't need a direct object. God, in his great love for us, sent his only Son to set us free from the sin that imprisons us and rescue us from the terrible things that sometimes happen in life. When I finally decided to really beleive in that love of the Father, I was flooded with hope. I hope because I know that with God all things are possible. With God people stuck in sin can be set free, tragedy can be overcome, doubt can be quieted, broken relationships can be healed, and broken hearts can be made new again. You see, hope is flexible. It redefines itself to fit the immediate parameters and needs of any situation. Once you choose hope over despair, anything is possible.

I still don't think that I've come up with any brilliant ideas about counseling... But to be honest, I'm not sure that coming up with a brilliant idea is what's really important anyways.

Micah 7:7
But as for me, I watch in hope for the LORD, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me.

Empty handed and out of breath

This semester I am in group therapy as part of a class I'm taking. Wednesday, we had our first session and our therapist asked us to tell the group about ourselves. He said "So tell everyone about yourself. Are you married? Are you alone? Where is your life heading?" I immediately went into a mildly panicked state. "Are you alone?" I'm still not entirely sure why but those words have been playing over and over in my head since he said them.

As I couldn't seem to stop thinking about what he had said, it dawned on me that I was more afraid of being thought of by someone I respected as "alone" than actually being alone. Don't get me wrong -- being alone can be a scary feeling, especially for a girl my age. However, I genuinely believe that more and more I am getting to a place where I feel content with whatever happens. However, I HATE that the world immediately looks at me and takes pity on me. For whatever reason, I have this feeling that I will never be 'successful' or 'happy' in the eyes of my family unless I get married.

In any case, I realized that I put far too much stock in what everyone else is thinking. I spend and embarassing amount of effort trying to garner the praises and respect off men, when I ought to be trying to please God. So I decided to excersise my independence this weekend. I went to see a movie by myself on Friday night (aka date night). I used to be able to do this without flinching, but in the past year or so I have become almost paralyzed by what others think of me. And since I was certain that the world would look down on me for not having friends to go out with on a Friday night, I decided that I had to do it.

My friend Brent, recently blogged on a similar topic. He said (emphasis added):
"I remember in freshman year when someone asked me what my deepest fear was; I couldn’t exactly articulate it, but I now know that my deepest fear was irrelevancy. I hated the thought that anyone—even in church world—would ever think that I wasn’t smart or attractive or insightful or mature enough to be let in on the secrets, to be included in the inside jokes, to know the most important information about everyone."

This week I've been convicted that there is a common thread among people: we all have a deep seated fear of inadequacy. I suppose some might call it the human condition. It manifests itself a little differently from person to person. Some feel feel a constant self-doubt, others a permanent empty feeling, still others are plagued by constantly comparing themselves to those around them. The thing is, that we constantly look to things of the world like popularity, success, relationships, money, and good looks for validation, or to fill the void in our hearts, or to raise our status above those around us. And yet we always come up short. When you chase after the wind somehow you always just wind up empty handed and out of breath.

The good news is that I made it through the movie and my world didn't come crashing down. In fact, I enjoyed it. This week I think I'm going to work on making being alone not feel quite so lonely. And learning to start looking for validation, contentness, and confidence in God, and not men...

Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ. Galatians 1:10

Long week

It's been a long week:
Sunday I had a terrible stomach virus. Monday I found out the class I was registered for was cancelled months ago, but the dept never took it off banner. Tuesday I found out my only option to graduate was to take a weekend class with a somewhat crazy schedule/syllabus. Wednesday I learned the other class I registered for had a special course requirement that means that instead of my class being at the time it was scheudled from 1-4, it will be 1-2:45, 4:30-5:30. The assignment is actually very good, however, the random hour and 45 minute break in my day is not cute at all. Thursday I lost my voice just in time for the lecture I was giving to the Marriage and Family students. Nothing like a 3 hour statistics crash course from a girl who sounds like a pathetic mouse. Friday I spent 5 hours learning about new changes in our department's clinic, the new requirements I'll have to meet, and had a miniture freak out with my cohort about practicum hours/scheduling/the future.

It has been a week of sickness, bad attitudes and belligerence, and anxiety about the future (and the present for that matter). I hate having a bad attitude about things, and all week I have been struggling to find the good in all the changes going on in our dept and my course scheduling difficulties. The thing is, I feel so justified in my bad mood. My scheduling difficulties are due to other people's mistakes, the changes in the clinic were due to other people's decisions, my sickness was due to circumstance... in other words I felt like I hadn't done anything to deserve all this hardship the week has thrown my way.

I am so selfish.

Most of the time the church has been so focused on what we deem the bigger temptations when it is often the smaller, less threatening ones that eventually become so devestating. We wrap our accountability around lust and addiction: alcohol, drugs, sexuality, and the like. But we aren't very vigilant when it comes to materialism and excess. Pride and resentment. Gossip jealousy. Monitoring the words that come out of our mouths. Selfishness and greed. Negativism and divisiveness. In fact, we do a pretty good job of ignoring that these all fester inside of us. Why? Because in modern society, they’re okay.

Like I said before, I felt justified in my bad attitude this week. I felt justified when I was rude to the person who made the mistake on banner. I felt justified in my excessive worry. I felt justified when I complained profusely. I felt justified when I rolled my eyes at our clinic director. This feeling of justification is, of course, rubbish.

My selfishness reared its ugly head this week, and to be honest I'm really embarassed. I hate that I let myself carry on for so long, and even on Wednesday night at church when I finally admitted to myself that I needed to let my bad attitude go and commit my anxious thoughts to God- I still carried on a bit Thursday and Friday. Thankfully, I have some wonderful Godly friends who are really good at reminding me of whats really important.

At any rate, this week got me thinking about sin, and how we justify it. We all have weaknesses that, unchecked, eventually become sin that can destroy our lives. But this dormant sin is not some fungus that will hatch no matter how deep our cleaning. It is a seedling that grows when we water and feed it, and we give sin sustenance when we excuse and bury the little stuff in our lives. Of course, no sin is little—but culture (and certainly the Church) have minimized some while maximizing others, never acknowledging that the minimized, socially acceptable sins eventually do eternal damage.

So then the question arrives: How do we know what sin is? Any one can find a scriptural thesis either supporting or condemning their own habits if they have the time. So how do we know for certain? We know sin by what sin does. Sin separates and destroys.

Sin separates us from God and from one another. Sin separates us from peace. Sin separates us from joy. Sin destroys family, relationships, and community. Sin builds walls of hatred between cultures, denominations, political parties, races and genders. Sin convinces us that we are right and everyone else is wrong and that this distinction is more important than love. Sin numbs a heart until it no longer loves others —and eventually no longer loves God.

I find myself praying that we would start rationalizing less and loving God more.

"If we claim that we're free of sin, we're only fooling ourselves. A claim like that is errant nonsense. On the other hand, if we admit our sins—make a clean breast of them—he won't let us down; he'll be true to himself. He'll forgive our sins and purge us of all wrongdoing. If we claim that we've never sinned, we out-and-out contradict God—make a liar out of him. A claim like that only shows off our ignorance of God." 1 John 1:8-10

Man of no reputation

There's a famous Rich Mullins song called "Man of no reputation". The song talks about the awesomeness of Jesus' life in the midst of his humility. But I have to wonder, what does it mean to be a man (or in my case woman) of no reputation in our reputation-obsessed world? I ask myself this question as I consider how actually to live the alternative reality of God's kingdom that preachers so eloquently describe. We like vision. We like talk. But, unfortunately, our record is spotty when it comes to implementation. I'm not sure we (myself included) totally get what it means to be a servant of God.

In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus teaches His disciples how God’s standards slip into the world. His tactic has a lot to teach us about leadership, especially in times of uncertainty.

“People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them” (Mark 10:13 TNIV). At first look, this seems strange. Why would the disciples have such a strong response? People were always crowding Jesus, asking to be blessed and healed. Why did it get under the disciples’ skin when some normal folks brought their kids for a blessing? Isn’t this a perfect photo-op? Isn't this the kind of thing preachers and politicians are supposed to do — shake hands and kiss babies?

Mark offers some background in the chapter before this scene when he tells a story about an argument that the disciples had on the road to Capernaum. Jesus overhears the guys grumbling with one another, and he asks what it’s about. They don’t want to tell him—they’re embarrassed that they’ve been arguing about who was the greatest among them. You see the disciple, like us see life and success as a zero-sum game.

Not to get all geek squad on you, but, in game theory, a zero-sum game is a situation in which a player's gain or loss is exactly balanced by the losses or gains of the other players. If the total gains of all players are added up, and the total losses are subtracted, they will always sum to zero. The disciples are stuck with the zero-sum assumption that becoming great means making someone else small. But when that's your reality, in the end you all end up with nothing.

Somewhere along the way, we've gotten used to thinking in terms of competition. But Jesus offers this tactic for abundant life: “Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all” (Mark 9:35). If you really want to be great, Jesus said, don’t aspire to become the most successful member of a prestigious family. Jesus tells us and the disciples, if you really want abundant life- try to become least person in the most humble family. Essentially, make yourself the servant of all.

Mark said Jesus called a child to stand beside him as he was teaching this. “Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me,” Jesus said; “and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me” (Mark 9:37). In the ancient household, children were somewhat worthless—too young and weak to work or be productive for the family, so they often did the lowliest servant work for their families. In God’s house, Jesus said, welcoming the lowest was the same as welcoming the Father.

So, “When Jesus saw [the disciples rebuking the children], he was indignant” (Mark 10:14). The disciples weren’t simply shooing away some pesky kids—they were publicly rejecting the instruction Jesus had recently given them. Resources were limited, the disciples thought, and Jesus’ time and energy should only be spent on the most promising candidates. There still competing for God's blessing like it's a zero-sum game.

As crazy as it might seem to young revolutionaries, Jesus said you don’t overthrow the system of this world by beating the rulers at their own game. “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them,” Jesus said at the conclusion of this exchange with the disciples. “Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all” (Mark 10:42-44).

Jesus offers Christians a different approach. We usher in a new way of thinking about success by subversively submitting to others. We expose the lie of this world’s system by rejecting the greatness that it aspires to and worships. We wholeheartedly proclaim the goodness of our Father and his idea of success when we delight in being his children. When we find ourselves utterly dependent on God and one another, the lowliest of servants in God’s great kingdom- then, and only then, we've reached "the top."

Somehow, Christians (and for that matter churches) have got to learn to do as much good as possible, AND not care about who gets the credit.

I was reminded of this just yesterday when I heard a story about a doctor named Jerry. Though he is a very successful oncologist (in high demand in his field) he spends one day a week away from his practice to help his church's local food pantry, and he is looking for other ways to serve. The world would tell him that he is very busy and important, but he knows better. He knows that to really have that abundant life, he's got to serve "the least of these."

When I wonder what it means for me to be a woman of no reputation, thoughts of people like Jerry come to mind. I have been blessed to know others like him. These humble servants remind me that there is no system of the world inside which we can’t walk and serve with Jesus.

Not for the weak stomached...

I had a terrible stomach bug yesterday. I hate being sick in general, but I really really hate throwing up. It's just so scary to me to be just totally out of control like that. Thankfully, I've felt much better today. I was tired, and my abs and back hurt from all the heaving when my stomach decided it wanted a vacation from my body... but I mostly felt weak. I certainly didn't eat or drink anything yesterday. However all day I've been agonizing over what I should or shouldn't eat of drink, as right now I have a slight fear of food. I knew I needed to eat something, but couldn't seem to work up the courage to actually get around to eating much of anything. Finally I met with my mentor group, and my lovely mentor Vann told me that I really ought to try to eat something (I'm guessing now that I looked pale and pathetic).
But all this got me thinking about my relationship with Scripture. A few years ago I was got sick to death of reading the Bible. Perhaps I was reading the wrong thing, or not understanding. I can't really explain what happened to my heart, but when I looked at the words, I didn't feel hope, I felt...angry. That anger turned to bitterness, and that bitterness turned into spiritual sickness. One night at church I had a crying outburst that I now might equate to my dry heaving on the bathroom floor- there was no hope left in my bitter heart and yet I still felt grieved. It was after that episode that I started getting what I would call 'spiritual rest.' I stopped trying so hard to feel better and just tried to rest. I had lots of people praying for me, and lots of really Godly people surrounding me, and I just decided to stop trying so hard to feel better and let the sick feeling in my heart pass. As I got my strength back I started to feel 'hungry' again for the Word but I didn't know where to start, or I was afraid that when I went back I would just feel angry and bitter all over again. Thankfully I have people in my life like Vann who encouraged me to "eat a little something." The thing is, just like it was a virus, not food, that made me sick yesterday- it was my broken heart, not the Bible, that made me bitter before. I slowly got back to my own natural rhythm of study, which I think will always fluctuate a fair amount.
I hate being sick, physically or spiritually- it's just so scary. Tonight I find myself praying for those out there who find themselves spiritually dry heaving. May you finally get some rest and start feeling better soon.

John 14:6

"I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the father except through me."

How many times have I asked the Lord to show me what to do, when to do it, how to do it? Lately I feel like my heart is screaming "Lord, please show me which way to go!"
"I am the way"
I am full of doubts about myself, and others, and God, and the good in the world... I often find myself wishing I could make up my mind, stop beleiving Satan's lies, and know what to hold on to.
"I am the truth"
I just want to be happy. I want to know what the desires of my heart are, I want to know how to live that abundant life in John 10:10.
"I am the life"

He's not the road map, He's the way. He isn't a lie detector, He's the truth. He doesn't just save from death, He's the life.

Oh.

Sometimes I'm so thickheaded.

Jesus and the 5 love languages...

Going to a private Christian university introduced me to a variety of awkward topics of conversation. I have a feeling that the kids in the LSU cafeteria aren't talking about appropriate physical boundaries in dating relationships or how their prayer life is going. One of my personal favorites? “What’s your love language?”

At first, I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. I vaguely remembered a flowery purple book on the subject, sitting atop a dusty bookshelf in my dad's library but I didn’t know people my age actually read it, or that it was important enough to bring up in an introductory chat among acquaintances. I then got my first run-through of the love languages, something that would be repeated again and again in class discussions and in late-night girly talks in the dorms. I even had friends in more serious marriage-bound relationships who read the book as a couple, marking parts that they felt would enlighten their beloved. At first, I latched onto the theory. It’s interesting and romantic and it makes sense … right?

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the theory, it comes from Gary Chapman’s The Five Love Languages and proposes the idea that each of us gives and receives love in different ways. While the main application is intended for marriage, it can be seen across the spectrum of relationships, and there have even been subsequent editions of the book focused on singles and children. The five categories are: Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Gifts, Quality Time and Physical Touch. Typically, people will have one or two that are their primary love language. For example, when I was tested I scored highest in Physical Touch, closely followed by Quality Time. Anyone want to hold hands for an hour?

But as time goes by, I’ve begun to fear that love has been lost in translation. We may have even taken this idea of love languages, which is meant to inspire us to look at the needs of others, and turned it around to diagnose and defend selfish tendencies. Perhaps the languages could be seen as a starting point, a healthy place to begin developing love. But I’m not yet convinced that you are confined to this, or that by determining which one is your “favorite” you will somehow improve in the art of loving.

The love languages (when abused) give us room to be lazy. They allow us to write off the efforts of others, or to limit our own. “Well, nice try, but that’s not how I best receive love.” They tell you that love only translates when everyone is comfortable. I can't tell you how many girls I have who have convinced themselves that problems in their relationships are entirely chalked up to the fact that their boyfriend doesn't speak their love language. But love isn’t about comfort, is it? More often than not, it’s about sacrifice.

When Jesus spoke of love, whether for your neighbor, spouse, or enemy, He pictured a holistic love, one that doesn’t ask for anything in return. He taught, with His words and actions, that there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life. He did this physically, to the point of death. And yet, we have such difficulty with simply setting aside our wants, intentions, insecurities and agendas. Even marriage is supposed to be an imitation of the way Christ fully loves the Church, His “bride.” So why does our version of love seem so finicky and particular?

Consider 1 Corinthians 13 (MSG): “Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love doesn't want what it doesn't have. Love doesn't strut, Doesn’t have a swelled head, Doesn’t force itself on others, Isn’t always 'me first,' Doesn’t fly off the handle, Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others, Doesn’t revel when others grovel, Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, Puts up with anything, Trusts God always, Always looks for the best, Never looks back, But keeps going to the end.”

True fulfillment, outside of our own fickle “needs,” beyond the shortcomings of society’s depiction of “love,” is only found within the grace and compassion of Christ. Sometimes the people who you love won't fully appreciate you, sometimes you won't value them like you should. Life is messy. Just remember that “love is patient, love is kind.” Look to a God who loves unconditionally, and figure out how you can do the same with those around you. May we all learn to do what love requires.

What a difference a year can make...

A year ago today, Hollygrove Church of Christ opened it's doors and had their 1st worship service. Today, brothers and sisters of all kinds- rich, poor, black, white, young, old, and everything in between- gathered from around the country to celebrate God's great work there. The church is a testimony to not only the faith of those involved in the planting of the Hollygrove church but also to the awesome power of our God. It's no secret that the Carrollton and Hollygrove churches are a big part of my life, and have greatly influenced the way I think about God.

In the past year at Hollygrove kids and teens in the most dangerous neighborhood in America were given an alternative to life on the streets through summer programs and after-school tutoring, over 350 neighborhood guests were welcomed to the church with a fish fry and block party, 12 people were baptized into Christ, and 22 families received assistance during the Christmas season. It is evident that the Lord is moving in New Orleans. Here are just a few of the many lessons to be learned from the Hollygrove Church:

- To meet great need you need great love. What I mean is, Charles and Angela (the Hollygrove ministers) are working with some of the poorest families in the city, in a very dangerous area where the lack of education and physical needs of the children and youth they interact with are overwhelming and apparent. For example, many of the children that attend church there don't receive proper nutrition or sufficient medical care, some don't have winter coats, others wear shoes that are too small and pants that are too large simply because their families struggle to make ends meet. Some people would come into a neighborhood like that and want to throw a lot of money at the problem. However, Charles and Angela know that what that neighborhood really needs is the love of Jesus. Don't hear me wrong- they absolutely need help, and Hollygrove certainly needs monetary support to continue to reach out to the community, but Charles and Angela do not fret over money. They are up close and personal with the God who fed 5,000 with just 5 loaves and 2 fish. They know, no matter what they've got, when they give it to God he is able to do immeasurably more than all they could ask or imagine. Its rare to find that kind of faith, and dedication to sharing God's love in the church today.

- At Hollygrove, everyone's invited: rich, poor, young, old, white, black, educated, uneducated, the single mother, the ex gang member... it doesn't matter. Everyone has a place there. When you look around most churches in America today you often see a terrible segregation. Churches are often segregated by race and are more and more starting to segregate by age as well. However, this morning at Hollygrove I think the service reflected what Heaven will be like. At some point we've got to be willing to make a place for people who aren't like us, maybe even people who make us a bit uncomfortable because they sing different songs from us, or preach in a different style, or whatever. The mission of both Carrollton and Hollygrove is simple: "We are a family of God's children serving our community." No matter how different we are, we are indeed a family, that is incredibly blessed by the love of our Father in heaven, that is seeking ways to share that love with those in New Orleans.

- The Lord blesses us with partnerships to accomplish big jobs- we can't do it on our own! Today I watched Kirk and Charles both compliment each other for teaching the other how to be a better minister. They are two totally different men, who have different ways of doing things, and often different opinions of how to accomplish a given task- but they both LOVE God. Further, I am reminded of the way Hollygrove and Carrollton are a team and even beyond that they rely on the prayer, love and support of sister churches like Park Plaza in Tulsa, Southern Hills in Abilene, White's Ferry in Monroe, and Northlake in Atlanta. Each of these congregations need each other, and it is no accident that God enabled them to work together to do good in New Orleans. In my own life I have been blessed to have many great partners (Matthew and Perry, are coming to mind) in ministry and it often not until later that I realize how much God was teaching me through their ministry, and how much more work could be done because of the other person.


What a great Sunday!