Jamie S. Harper's Blog

During the pandemic of 2020, it is obvious that the Lord is shaking down the idols of His church. I pray that I find the words to share only what Jesus would have me share. The truth is I am not qualified to say or write or speak, but I feel like the Lord has given me something to share that must not be held back.

What are some of the idols exposed? 

Politicization of ChristianityPost-modern truthRacial reconciliationQanon stuff and conspiraciesMasksPatriotismMost of these are symptoms of one big one – the politicization Christianity

Our American society is falling apart and at the heart of this, the church has to see themselves as a vital player in the events going on. The pandemic has exposed the hearts of believers everywhere.

What is happening within the American church

Before 2020, a trend was happening in the church — many believers were choosing to leave the church. All along the way, I’ve said that something is amiss in the way we disciple believers in the church. People do not turn away from the true Jesus once they’ve met Him. But recently, I’ve been given more understanding about why it happens. For some, it is the same hypocrisy they see without and within the church itself. The church is supposed to be holy and provide answers, but many times, it has offered a false Gospel, leaving people lifeless and hopeless, degrading the Jesus they profess. Of this, we should be greatly ashamed and repent. We haven’t allowed people to taste and see the real Jesus so they search for other things as they question for themselves.

Two sides: evangelicalism and progressivism

The evangelical church falls short under scrutiny, but it stands firm in refusing to humble itself and repent. This led to the birth of progressive Christianity. The two facets of Christianity are highly politically charged. Progressive Christianity was born in attempt to answer questions evangelicalism refused to think about, and thus came about a more liberal Christianity. The progressive state often represents a progressive mind. Often Christians into social issues like homosexuality and racial reconciliation and social justice fall into this camp. These Christians often leave Christianity altogether.

While evangelical Christianity failed to recognize these issues or questions to take survey of its sins like spiritual and sexual abuse in the church, progressive Christianity fails because it does not have the solid foundation evangelicalism has. True to its name, progressive Christianity is ever evolving, ever changing with no real grounding principle. With an ever changing truth, it quickly devolves into universalism — the belief that God is everywhere in everything and loves all things all the time. Nothing, not even social justice Jesus, keeps progressive Christianity firm and unchanging.

The Bible challenges any philosophy that is easily tossed to and fro over and over again, and the Bible itself becomes fluid for the progressive camp. But biblical Christians are to be a people who stand firm in the chaos and storms of life.

The truth is the Jesus’ presented by both evangelicalism and progressives are two sides of the same coin. The Real Jesus cares deeply about justice and righteousness. Justice is the prevailing progressive thought taken too far and righteousness is the prevailing evangelical thought not taken far enough.

Westernizing the church

Add to this the Westernization of Christianity. Westernizing Christianity makes Christianity all about me. I am a central figure in Christianity. Any time I am the centralized figure, idolatry is in play.  Americans love to seek the American dream. While it worked for us as a nation, it does not work for us as Christians. The American dream seeks to fulfill itself at the expense of others. It is selfish and self-involved and these are not Christian principles. Christians are to be self-sacrificial and loving of others.

Due to the Westernizing of Christianity, we make the Bible about us and we make ourselves bigger than we should be. The Westernizing of Christianity is how the prosperity gospel plays into our Christianity. If one reads the Bible, one sees that we should be ever growing smaller and less self-focused not more.

The Westernization of the gospel is so prevalent, we often do not recognize and refuse to see how we idolize and read the Bible from a me centered approach. No longer are we a collective body in the Western model. We actually function as if an “ear” can and should function on its own. It is so ingrained in our concept of Christianity we almost never think to separate it or notice how we lean only on ourselves and not the bigger concept.

The Eastern concept

Paul used the analogy of a body for the believers, and it would have been easily understood by Jews. Americans are individuals, but most other Eastern cultures are people groups and don’t identify so individualistically. This may be the reason we’ve allowed for various other new identities that used to be non-existent (genders, etc). Eastern cultures identify as one within their people group. This model is what Paul was saying we should be as a church, but our American identity has corrupted us within the people group of the church.

There is a meme going around about how the wailing wall most models the Holy of Holies and Eastern thought. Not only is Eastern thought collective, it centers God and makes room for emotions, which seemed lacking in evangelicalism.

Contemplative Christianity

There is another facet of Christianity and it is the one I identify with most: contemplative Christianity. I will be less apt to see its faults, though I am sure they are there, but it is the model I see as most attempting to see Real Jesus.

If evangelicalism is hard, progressivism is soft, and contemplative Christianity models both. Like the Eastern model, this form of Christianity models curiosity and questions and attempts to be a collective, reading the Bible asking what does this teach me about God, not just about me, but about loving my neighbor who is one with me. This model leaves room for mystery, and space for God to be magnified, not small and kept in a box on a shelf. It allows for discipleship of the mind and emotions. It is grounded in truth, without being so cemented that it cannot think or repent.

Politicization of Christianity

When we back up and look at some of the idols that this pandemic season is tearing down, we see the politicization of Christianity. This is why there has been mask outrage. This is why Qanon theories are popular. We see the interspersion of post-modern truth, which is not truth at all, with political belief. People are turning to a groundless hope which is no hope at all, rather than seeking the Real Jesus. Real Jesus never aligned with a political power. Why did He need to do so? He was the King. We must ask ourselves why we need a political power figurehead. Is it really about social issues, like abortion, or more about power and greed? About a hidden prosperity gospel we hope to achieve?

Like the Jews who yelled, “crucify Him,” Christians are unwilling to separate themselves from their political devices to see the True King. Instead of being able to see and seek Him in His word, they take the easy route and follow baseless theories instead. Because they are individuals instead of a collective, they see a mask as threat instead of an act of love. Yes, there are exceptions to every rule, like women who were raped and truly cannot wear a mask because it reminds of trauma every time they attempt to put it on.

Then there is racial reconciliation, and I feel inept to address it. But I can tell you about the drama triangle. In the drama triangle, there is a victim, a hero, and a villain, also known as the victim, the rescuer, and the accuser. In the drama triangle, you can look at Christianity like this:

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Whites who love racism tend to accuse. Whites who love to be the savior tend to rescue. But no one wins, not whites, not blacks, not Western American Christianity. Rescuers never meant to rescue, self destruct, accusers stay angry, and the issue never changes. Sometimes they shift roles and have role reversals. Blacks abuse, whites feel victimized, and someone tries to save the day (blacks and whites). But the drama triangle never wins. 

Our True Hope: the Real Jesus

There can only ever be one Rescuer: Real Jesus. This Jesus is the hope for racial reconciliation and all other social justice issues. He is the Jesus that sees, truly sees hearts and minds and the whole soul.

Real Jesus calls sin a sin while holding a hand out to help someone come out of it. He accuses and rescues. All the while, the hopeless one has to learn to take responsibility for his or her own actions aligning his or her beliefs with His truth. I as the victim must confront my shame and accept the help out of it that Real and True Jesus offers me. Instead of a triangle, this looks like a Cross.

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Jesus is a balanced scale of accusation and rescuer. He balances both righteousness which is how one feels accused and justice which is how one finds freedom and rescue.

These Christian systems have been developed because grace has been misunderstood. Grace is a mystery too good to be true. Jesus is too good to be true so we make Him less than what He is, focusing on only one of His aspects: evangelicalism on legalism also known as judgment and righteousness and progressivism on license and liberty and rescue.

Jesus is not a one-sided coin. He is mishpat (justice) and tzedakah (righteousness) all rolled into one. When it comes to coins, a few things from Jesus come to mind. Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and onto God what is God’s. Until we as Christians recognize that righteousness and justice are a work only God can do, we’ll keep wrongly rendering unto American gods or political figureheads works that only the church is meant to do. Our treasure will never be found in the next President, only in Jesus. So let’s open our hearts to his expansive grace, open our eyes to see and hear from True Jesus alone. Only He is the justice and righteousness we need.

The post The Real Jesus appeared first on Curious Pursuit of Christ.

I have been waiting a lot during 2020. I’m sure many can relate. I started the Revelations Bible reading plan through the First5 app and this weekend was a teaching from Lyli Dunbar. She said a phrase that made me ponder, “patiently endure while I wait.”

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The Lord led me to the word “abide” for 2020. I have gotten plenty of opportunities to abide. Be it being at home from the pandemic but more often because of very personal things He is doing in me causing me to wait them out. Waiting has been a theme while I abide. Truly, I need to abide because waiting kinda makes me want to run. 

I have grown weary in some of the times. To be honest, I had hoped I had grown more patient and enduring already. But the waiting and at times even questioning and wondering have allowed me to mature (honestly the jury is out on this – I feel less mature) and root down deeper searching for water. A plant in crisis can shrivel or it can strengthen. Which one am I?

There’s one thing I’ve been waiting on for over 20 years. How do I patiently endure while I wait? I’ve recently been wondering if I need to give up on it. Through those 20 years, many times in many ways, I have, but then I would renew my vision and wait again. Earlier this year, something happened to give me hope for that thing to grow. But then, the door closed. So while I recognized God’s hand in it, it only reenergized the questions of why and who and why and how long and when and why? Do I truly know the sound of your voice, Lord? or only my own? If I cannot hear you or see you, do I know you?

Did you know that the flowers that bloom in the desert have to root deeper in the soil in order to survive and bloom? In my pain, I’ve listened to a lot of sermons and messages and bible authority figures. This is a tidbit I learned. Allison Allen on Instagram writes that in, “just one well-timed “drought/stress” event can cause the roots of the vine to grow deeper into the soil, in search of water. And in the struggle to find water, certain compounds are released in the vine, that actually have the effect of sweetening the fruit.” Mika Edmundson said in his sermon that Christmas roses or winter flowers are much the same. (The picture I chose for this post is of a Christmas rose.)

Seasons of endurance cause us to press into God. Even when we are wondering where God is, we choose to trust that He is faithful even when we cannot see Him with our eyes. 

If we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Ro 8:25

We wait with hope and patience. Waiting with fear or doubt because of what we see takes our eyes off the end price of Christ himself.

Waiting often feels dark. I feel deaf and blind. When it gets dark, what do I need to do? Though I may be blind in knowing where to look, I pause my stumbling and rushing and listen. Sometimes in the waiting, his voice feels super quiet and soft. I pray for eyes to see and ears to hear. Physically, I might want to drop to the ground and use my hands to feel around until I can see where to go again.

I have to quiet my internal chaos and wrestling to hear His gentle whisper. Because it’s dark, I have to let my eyes and ears adjust to the darkness. I’m not completely blind, I’m just in unknown territory. When my eyes adjust, they are in tune and ready to see the light. Darkness primes the senses to be used in a new way. Even the ears are more sensitive.

I’m somewhat envious of those who hear the voice of the Lord steadily and soundly. For me, His voice takes discernment and persistence. I recognize that maybe He is training me for blooming and growing in a way that the One who hears steadily and soundly does not. Maybe I’m like the desert flower instead. My roots are digging deeper. I’m not convinced my fruit will be sweeter, but I hope it will be. In some ways, while I wait, I do what this quote from Sleepless in Seattle says,

I’m gonna get out of bed every morning … breathe in and out all day long. Then after a while, I won’t have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out. And then after a while, I won’t have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while.

Sam from Sleepless in Seattle

I patiently endure while I wait or while we wait, we keep living and hoping. Quietly asking for belief to be birthed when it feels dead, and hope to rise with the Savior’s wings. The Savior who never stops praying me all the way home, even when I don’t know how to get there on my own, strengthens me, even when I feel too weak to see or hear. He’s training me to bloom.

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Today, I want to share with you the parables of the different fruits. No, these are not the parables of Christ. These parables come from my yard.

A Little Background First…

My day started with thinking about church. One of the first things I saw online was data from a Barna survey about how 1 in 3 people was no longer attending church.

I left this comment on a friend’s post when he shared the Barna post: “I think Christianity and even church will look very different when this is over. Not only because those who get community elsewhere don’t have to go to church but because of the way Christians have handled this crisis amongst one another. God is doing something to turn over his church like one tills the soil. Just my opinion.”

Shortly after I read a well written post by Beth Moore. The woman does not claim to be a prophet, but I very well think she is one. Click on the link to read the whole thing:

From Beth:
So, having been raised, most of us, to think bigger is better when it comes to kingdom work and fruitfulness…

Posted by Living Proof Ministries with Beth Moore on Tuesday, July 14, 2020

The Parable of the Butterfly Bush

I really felt the Spirit leading me to my butterfly bush and Matthew 13, which I wrote a bible lesson on last year. So after much of how I got here, here’s the first parable of today.

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Three years ago, at the end of the summer season, I planted a butterfly bush. I planted it at the bottom of my deck stairs. She was a purple, majestic beauty that quickly grew beyond my expectations. I considered her the crown jewel of my garden, casting off purple flowers as quickly as she possibly could have. I cared for her daily, regularly deheading any wilting flowers. The following picture shows her the second summer.

[image error]Butterfly bush, beginning summer 2018

By last summer, she’d grown bigger than the garden we’d made for her and over the stepping stones we’d wrongly assumed we’d have room for. She must have been five or more times herself when I got her or even from the previous summer. She was fruitful. As long as I deheaded her flowers, several more grew in their place. We all marveled over how she’d grown and so quickly.

[image error]Butterfly bush, beginning summer 2019

Then we came to 2020. The winter was a time of great rain, and as it the time drew near to blooming season, we could tell something was wrong with the butterfly bush. Her leaves were frail and sickly. I had to trim most of her back because her branches had died. One lone branch stayed. This branch produced new leaves and new blooms. Overnight and suddenly, the branch died. It wasn’t because it needed water; it was a mystery.

I had to clip it back and the following shows all that is left of my bush.

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In the second photo, you can see my stepping stones where the bush used to hang way over. Now all that is left alive, is two sprouts with only one bloom. The other greenery is a lantana, not the butterfly bush.

I kept thinking God was using this to teach me. My bush often reminded me of a bible lesson I had written for church on Matthew 13. This is when parables are first introduced. I specifically thought about Matthew 13:31-33.

He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.

He told them still another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into about sixty pounds of flour until it worked all through the dough.”

Matthew 13:31-33

The parable of the mustard seed is often misunderstood and interpreted positively. However, this parable is about unusual growth in the church and how Satan uses this growth to infiltrate the church. My butterfly bush just seems to drive it home. God always leaves a remnant, albeit sometimes, small. But large and abnormal growth cannot be sustained and pruning may occur. We tend to go for unusual growth in the church. This parable teaches us to stay slow and steady, growing roots that dig deep into the foundation of God and nothing else. I don’t doubt the pandemic is doing a little bit of pruning, shifting, and shaking for us in the church.

For some reason, God has me think about church culture and church life a lot and this bush always has me conversing with God. For me, my butterfly represents the mustard seed bush that grew so fast it became a tree, when it was only to grow into a bush.

The Parable of the Cucumber Vine

I am in the Jesus & Women bible study at church, so this little story is relevant to that. It is also about church as well.

I have a very small vegetable garden, and one of my plants is the cucumber. My mom also has a vegetable garden, and she told me about something she recently learned.

The cucumber vine makes flowers. The flowers make the fruit. But what you may not realize is that some flowers are male and some are female. The female flower has a small fruit underneath it. The male has nothing. But the bees and flies and pollinating insects of the world have to do their part for the female flower to grow its fruit. So if the female doesn’t get fertilized, no fruit is produced even though she carries the seeds in which to grow the fruit. It’s in some ways, similar to human reproduction.

[image error]Flower with fruit behind it (female)



[image error]Flower without fruit behind it (male)

God commands us to be fruitful and multiply, and it applies to us as a people – to produce more people and to us as a church, to grow more disciples. Only three things are necessary. Men, Women, and God.

Oftentimes women have felt their voices are left out or unimportant in the church. But without men AND women, the church will go fruitless. We women are important and intrinsic image-bearers. It is God who makes sure we bear fruit. But it is on us to do the work that creates the fruit, and it must be done with men and women. Without one or the other, the church will shrivel up and die like my butterfly bush.

God must be there. Men must be there, and Women must be there.

Parable lessons learned

What do the parables of the different fruits teach us?

Unusual growth is unhealthy. Think about unusual growths in your body (they usually have to be removed, speaking from recent experience here). The church will need to change with the changing times, and cultivate slow growth, rather than large. God will sift us when needed to keep us on track, growing healthily.

In order for the church to keep bearing fruit, it will require the work of both men and women co-laboring side by side. When we are faithful co-laborers, God will supply a harvest.

The post The Parables of the Different Fruits appeared first on Curious Pursuit of Christ.

I have been waiting for something, in particular, to happen for years. At one time, I believed God told me this would happen. I say “at one time” because sometimes I find it really hard to still believe with no evidence that what I am waiting on will come to pass. What if I got it wrong, you know? What is the fruit of waiting?

It’s kinda like how Joseph had a dream that his brothers would bow down to him. They sold him into slavery. Eventually, he was put into jail. For a long time, whatever dream he had probably felt like just a dream that would never come to fruition. I imagine that over the years his dream shifted. Maybe he no longer cared if his brothers bowed down to him. Perhaps he never did. Maybe he just wanted to see his dad again.

Or when God told Abraham he was going to have a son but he was an old man, so first, he and Sarah laughed about it. Then they decided to make a child happen by using Sarah’s maidservant, instead of waiting.

We read these stories seeing the outcomes. We rarely think about how hard it must have been to wait for some of our favorite Bible characters.

Waiting is hard! The Bible acknowledges this in Proverbs 13:12, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is the tree of life.”

In a sense, we are all in a waiting game right now due to COVID-19. We wait for a virus remedy, school plans to be communicated, racism to end, for sin to end, and on and on. I don’t call myself a planner, but I’ve never been in a season with so many unknowns. Seasons like these tend to make me reflect on the thing I am waiting for as well as the long wilderness I’ve experienced in my life. I reflect on these things, because I recognize how fleeting life is.

God’s promise to Abraham and Joseph came to pass, but there were characters in the Bible who were still waiting when they died. I think that’s where my personal faith is tested when I think of what I am waiting on. Will God prove Himself to me in the land of the living on earth or the land of the living after death?

For example, Moses did not get to enter the Promised Land. David did not get to see the building of the temple. Now, these guys mostly missed out because of sin. When I am in a long wait, I tend to assume my own guilt. “I must have missed God’s plan or something,” I say to myself. However, waiting builds long-suffering, patience, and perseverance. Obviously, these are lessons I have to learn continuously because they come up constantly for me.

But there were others, like Daniel, who was placed in captivity as a teenager, who never returned to Jerusalem. Daniel, though, chose to stay in Babylon, which always fascinates me. It’s as if he knew his home was not really on this earth and his mission was to usher in an other-worldly Kingdom even before the King had arrived.

The prophets foretold prophecies they never saw fulfilled, and the disciples went around preaching a mission that they would never truly see totally fulfilled either.

It’s the Daniels, the prophets, and the disciples whose example I need draw strength from when I wait.

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Currently, I am in the Jesus & Women bible study, and I keep thinking about all those people who waited in the silent 400 years, wondering and waiting for a Savior. The bible study also led me to the woman with an issue of blood. She bled for 12 years. Twelve years seems short to me. Until I think about bleeding for so long. Until I recognize her isolation which would have made her time feel longer than it was. The days would have seemed long and the years even longer.

During this pandemic season, it is easy for me to lose focus with so many unknowns. In a season like this, I can quickly spiral into thinking about the difficulty of the wilderness instead of the goodness of God. I can think about how it’s still not yet, that I must wait a little longer. My heart asks, “But will the I even have the time to wait?” The fruit of waiting for me is often weariness and lifelessness.

The woman with the issue of blood reminds me to wait with expectation instead of without hope, instead of lost. I want to see and then believe. But her story reminds me to believe and then look and see.

I am not good at believing and then looking and seeing. I’ve often misplaced my belief. When I expect nothing to happen, nothing happens every time. But there have been many disappointing times when I’ve expected good times to happen and they didn’t.

The woman with the issue of blood must have waited with expectation. She found the tree of life from the Proverbs 13:12 verse. She touched the Saviour. His power left his body as He walked. She must have been watching and waiting for Him. He didn’t have to come in her time. He didn’t have to heal her. But he did.

She waited while continuously looking for Him. He had healing in His wings. He proved Himself to be exactly who and what she was waiting on. I want to be more like her. The fruit of waiting for her was life.

I can’t help but wonder if maybe all the waiting God has allowed in my life helps build belief and remove unbelief. If that’s the case, the evidence proves that there is still much work to be done.

The woman with the issue of blood teaches me the fruit of waiting is belief, perseverance, persistence, hope, expectation, healing, touch, and meeting the Savior, even when you wait what seems like til death.

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I come to Oak Mountain State Park chasing solitude. Due to the pandemic, it’s crowded and a lone spot by the water is impossible to find.

It’s been since March 12, 2020 since the world shut around here. I don’t honestly know when was the last time I’ve been alone (since I homeschool too!).

I thrive on solitude. It’s hard to find a spacious place in the park in which to sit and think about all the things, but somehow I do.

2020 has not been a year for the faint of heart. Every now and then, I find myself restless and craving solace in solitude and quiet.

I find a quiet table where it’s just me, the tuffed titmouses squeaking, a gentle breeze, as bikers do wheelies up the incline beside me, and families walk their dogs.

The pines and spindly oaks provide adequate shade for me to sit a spell.

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I turn on Amazon music and my soul, so anxious with grief, stills. Tears well up as I think about black parents teaching their children how to be safe around the police. My mind wanders from the world’s problems to my problems and back again.

I stare at the cars and the trees, graze at the hill before me, and wonder, “What is the world I live in?”

I’ve come to meet with God, to set aside the pandemic and racism, and the weight of the world, but before I do, they all crowd my thoughts anyway.

I’m surprised to be able to write and journal. Writing helps me to know who I am and what I am thinking when my soul feels crowded and a little bit heavy. Writing helps me to feel like I am myself again, when it seems like I have gone missing, which is exactly how I’ve felt as late.

I sing a few notes of praise as I ponder. Then I quiet the music to listen to the internal monologue inside. I have questions and concerns to bring to God that are my own.

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I ask the questions, and I share the burdens, a few which are decades old. No answers yet, only comfort from my Bible study and the Word of God. He is here with me.

“Take heart, Daughter, healing is for you, hope is for you, I am for you,” He seems to gently say.

My soul is reminded of what is true. He is with me. Jesus sees all of me and loves all of me, even the parts that still need sanctifying.

He is at work and shows up right on time, despite years of waiting. This I know. I don’t know when or how, but I know He does. It soothes my soul knowing that He is still working, even though I cannot necessarily see it.

In chasing solitude, I’ve come to sit before the Lord and quiet my heart and soul. What a great exchange, my weariness for His rest and comfort.

Before I leave, I sense He wants me, perhaps invites me, to climb the hill before me. My heart is open and curious. What do you want to teach me as I climb, sweet Savior?

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I wonder what will He say and what will I see.

At the top of the hill, there is a picnic table just like the one I’ve come from below where I’ve communed with God. I was unable to see it below which piques my curiosity. God reminds me that the mountaintops are meant to show me which way to go when I’m lost in the valley’s short-sighted wildernesses. He says that everywhere I go, there are altars there. It’s between Him and me to build sacred altars to remember His goodness and faithfulness.

I’m glad.

I didn’t leave with all the answers. But I found a few, and left with less questions and more peace. In chasing solitude, I found Home in Him.

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Dear New Mom during Covid Crisis,

I have thought a lot about you the last few weeks. It has been a long time since I was a new mom. I fear this means I won’t remember how it felt or have words to encourage you. Still, the first time I became I mom, I was small and frail. Internally. Definitely not externally.

The day after Thanksgiving, I baked an apple pie. As I worked, I contemplated how making an apple pie is like discipleship. Discipleship is the process of making disciples. It is a Christian term denoting “learners” or followers of Christ. Discipleship is the slow art of becoming like Christ.

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Watching

When I was a kid, I watched my mom and my grandmothers cook. Very rarely, they invited me into their process. Most of the time, I passively watched the cooking activities from the table.

Even though I had little actual experience cooking, there came a point in my life when I had to cook. I confidently assumed that I would be as skilled as my mothers just from watching.

As you may imagine, my first attempts at real cooking (not microwave soup cups in the dorm room) lacked the finesse of an experienced cook. In fact, I was in upstate New York as a summer missionary when I decided to make fresh creamed corn for the first time (or close to it).

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Learning

That summer I lived in a home with six other people who at the beginning of the summer were strangers to me, but quickly became like family. My twenty-year-old self missed the labors of my grandparents’ gardens. I grew up eating fresh garden veggies all summer, and this particular summer was my first away from home. So when my missionary family brought fresh veggies home from the market, I offered to make the creamed corn I craved.

I laugh as I consider it today. The day that the fresh veggies came home, someone asked me to slice a tomato and quickly made fun of my abilities (or lack thereof). I had never cut a tomato a day in my life. As a wee one, my mouth broke out when I ate any citrus, so I never went near it. However, I was simply unpracticed with a knife. Yet, I still attempted the corn. Making creamed corn is quite a process if you’ve never done it. Corn cutting, scraping, and milking. I have a habit of overconfidence on the first try. It took so much longer than I anticipated!

The corn turned out decently with all the butter, milk, and pepper added. Despite that, I never forgot the tomato incident and about how, for the first time ever, my confidence did not equal my skill!

Doing

Years later, I made my first apple pie. I did not grow up eating a lot of apple pies, so I’d never, to my remembrance, watched one being made. I had in my head the idea that it was a lot like taking a Mrs. Edwards frozen pie out of the freezer and popping it in the oven, but with obviously, a little bit more work.

What took the most work, of course, was prepping the apples and making the crust. I did not anticipate that crust making could go awry nor the time it takes to cut and peel the apples. Accordingly, I underestimated the amount of time it would take me to make an apple pie from scratch.

The day after Thanksgiving, I used a store-bought crust. As a result, I knew that cutting the apples would be my biggest use of time in making the pie. It took me 30 minutes to peel and slice my apples. (I don’t have one of those handle dandy apple slicing devices.) Making things from scratch is slow work.

Fifteen years passed from that first apple pie making experience to this recent one, and my skill level increased every time I made another pie.

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Becoming

I am, at this point my life, a decent cook and a relatively good baker. I can make a pie crust moderately well. Whenever possible and time permits, I make food from scratch, not from a mix or a store-bought something or another. I do it because I like it and because I believe in the process of making things from scratch, slowing down, and using my hands to endow love into the food I make.

Wonder how making an apple pie is like discipleship?



1. Discipleship is a slow art.

Jesus did not make disciples overnight, nor should we expect to do so. Discipleship takes time. Just like it took me years to learn to bake, cook, or really do anything worth doing, discipleship is a process. We are never as good at something when we start as we expect we will be. There is no microwave for discipleship. We should not expect ourselves or those we disciple to read the Bible, pray, and evangelize perfectly all at once. Jesus did not expect this of his disciples. Why do we?

Discipleship takes a lot of time in the short-term.

Just as cutting apples took me longer in the moment than I expected it to take, so does discipleship. Think of the time Jesus spent on disciple-making. He spent many hours telling stories to the broad crowd and even more time explaining his stories to his tight group of twelve.

Several factors go into the time it takes to teach and meet with disciples:

the amount of knowledge and skill that needs to be passed onhow much curiosity each disciple hasthe number of disciples you are disciplingthe age of your potential disciples (they may be your children)the personality and maturity of each disciple



Discipleship takes a lot of time in the long-term.

It took me many years to become skilled in the kitchen. If you read books on discipleship, many will suggest that you take on a group of disciples for 12 to 18 months. However, Jesus approximately had disciples for three years or so. With Christ, disciple-making was hands-on. He taught them about who He was and how to live as He did. We, in turn, study Scripture, to better know and love Christ and live like Him.

Many of the disciples were not ready to teach others until Jesus had left them alone and commanded that they make disciples. Looking at Jesus’s interactions with the disciples can teach us much about what we can expect from the disciples we are making. It is a slow process, and we will often leave them to it before we see any results (if any at times).

2. Discipleship requires patience and perseverance.

Learning to cook food from scratch requires a great deal of patience, stick-to-itiveness, and a lot of trying and failing and trying again. Discipleship is similar. Patience is required to lead well and to learn well.

Disciples need patience. Often disciples are corrected, challenged, and asked to do things far outside of our comfort zones. These things cause us to grow. Sometimes we won’t be good at the things we are asked to do, so we try again until we get better.

Discipleship leaders must be patient with those they disciple. We are looking for growth, not perfection. No one can do everything immediately. God’s pace is not the same pace as the world’s. Someone who is adept or experienced can do things faster than one who is learning. Remember to be a learner too.

There may be a discipleship leader, but he or she should still be under the leadership of Christ and the influence of other disciples. Christ continues discipling the leader as s/he disciples others. We simply do not become all that we should be overnight. Sanctification takes a lifetime of becoming.

3. Discipleship takes practice.

Just like I didn’t truly know how to do anything in the kitchen by simply watching, discipleship is active, not passive. I didn’t learn until I practiced what I saw. Each disciple must take responsibility for practicing what they are taught. One could argue that one is not really a disciple until he or she actively begins to practice the ways of Christ. Jesus taught his disciples what to do and how to live, and then he sent them out to do the things they’d practiced.

4. Discipleship endows love in a “with God” life.

Just as I endow love into each pie I make, love is endowed in discipleship. Discipleship is done because 1) God loves me, 2) I love God and want to obey, love, and serve Him, and 3) I love my sisters in Christ. Love only grows because a disciple walks with God, not alone.

As mentioned in #3 above, each disciple must take ownership of his or her active movement forward, yet disciples are accountable to one another.

Discipleship is not a sole or lone activity. It is done as a body, in community. Someone must teach. Someone must baptize. We are commanded to go, to make disciples. Jesus taught the masses, and yet, he selected a small group of men. At times, he sent them two by two.

We are to actively carry the burdens of one another while carrying our own load (paraphrase Galatians 6:2,5). At the end of the Great Commandment, he said, “Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” In the times that we are sent out seemingly alone, we are never alone. He is with us always. We must practice being with and for others as God is with and for us. This part of discipleship is oft forgotten.

5. Discipleship is fruitful.

The most obvious way that discipleship and apple pie are similar is that each one is fruitful. Ultimately, apple pies are meant to be shared and eaten. I labor in love to make a wonderful, delightful dish for the joy of those who eat it. So too, discipleship should make more and more disciples. It should feed others over the labor of love placed into it to the joy and delight of sharing it with others. This is the ultimate hope of discipleship – to multiply the Kingdom of God.

photo credits: photo 1: Jamie S. Harper (my own), photo 2: LearningLark Step 3: Roll out Your Crust via photopin (license), photo 3: LearningLark Step 1: Peel the Apples via photopin (license)

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“The Gospel Comes to Visit” – this is a story about how a woman’s period shares the Gospel with her each month. At Advance 2017, Jen Wilkin briefly alluded to how a woman’s period shares the Gospel. I do not talk about my period hardly ever – even with women. But I have written the Gospel story of it a few times. Once as a poem that I think I discarded. I was ashamed to share because talking about a woman’s monthly bleeding makes men and women uncomfortable. Yet, maybe, just maybe sharing how I see Jesus in my time of the month could help someone find salvation and hope in Him.

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The Gospel Comes to Visit: how a woman’s period shares the Gospel

From the time a girl becomes a woman until she is too old to bear children, the Gospel comes to visit her each month.

She bleeds crimson and stains clothing easily. Remembering her sin is as scarlet and filthy rags is easy because the filthy rags are hers. She knows all too well the struggle to cover her sin so that no one knows when the Gospel visits. When the Gospel visits (not just your period), you are always confronted with sin.

Despite attempts at cleanliness, she changes her clothes and her sheets because of the stain of her blood. She does it quietly with little thought or interaction with others about it. Sin is messy; she knows this full well and sees the futility of it. Sometimes she washes and cleanses and still the stain stays. Only something new without stain can truly mask the problem of the blemish.

But the Gospel comes to visit.

She cannot cast it out or stop it. She must be hospitable to the bleeding and in a sense to its message, consider it and care for it. This blood and the shedding of it is a type of death. Conception did not occur this month. New life did not come. The uterus lining made itself ready for life and was lifeless. This is true whether or not she’s married or sexually active. The whole purpose of her cycle is preparation for a new life, and yet the blood symbolizes her lack.

Not only does she contend with her sin every single month, sometimes for seven days, she also listens to the story of hope. Her body tells her the story of how new life comes, and it prepares a place for hope to grow. Without the shedding of her blood, no baby has room to grow. Her body is so hopeful, it does this every month, sharing the Gospel with her over 450 times in her lifetime. It is as if Someone, her Creator, designed it this way on purpose.

A woman’s body prods her toward the hope of Christ. Sin. Bloodshed. Death. Resurrection. Repeat. In as much as her body reminds her of the hopelessness of sin, still, a new uterus lining rebuilds over the course of the rest of the month. Resurrection comes. Life remains even when the uterus is empty (just like the tomb).

The uterus lining, called the endometrium, which sheds each month upon lack of pregnancy is the same part of the body that grows into a placenta to feed and nourish a baby when pregnant. It’s a wonder to think about – the same part that dies is the same part that can grow to nourish. It’s its own form of the Gospel reminding us of the nourishment we have only through Christ as our bread and blood, as our Savior and all.

Without death, no new life.

No new life without feeding and nourishment and care.

A cycle that comes, again and again, not just through our periods, through generations, to tell a woman His story. His love story for her and all generations – that her children may become His children and sons and daughters of God. This Gospel is not simply for her but for the hope of her future – for her husband and her children and all to tell the story of Jesus.

I do not think Paul intended this when he wrote that women would be saved through childbearing, but, perhaps, in some small way, this is what is meant by “a woman will be saved through childbearing.” Gospel. Jesus. Hope. Sin, bloodshed, death, resurrection, life, repeat. (of course – we could do without the sin part and one day in Christ, we will.)

We are only one generation away from a world that does not know Christ. Share His story.

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A few weeks ago, a life incident made me want to quit all the things. I attempted to write about it, but the draft is just that – a draft, left for only me to read or think about.

I changed my lock screen from “You are a Soul” (which you can download here by subscribing) to one just as pretty that said, “Head down. Blinders on. Stay in your lane.”

My friend even sent me an applicable bible verse to go along with it.

“So tend to your own knitting. You’ve got your hands full just taking care of your own life before God.”

Romans 14:12b (The Message)

By quitting all of the things, I really meant ministry, external ministry, anything outside the scope of my home and immediate family. My quitting wasn’t exactly biblical or right, but I thought it right for me in the moment.

My ministry, if you can call it that, is quirky and weird. I haven’t been writing lately. I haven’t been doing anything seen or traditional, but I had been doing things, very small things, but things nonetheless. And even in the areas that were traditional and seen, I was literally just another body in a room. Showing up week after week with little to no understanding of why I was doing it. Other than I thought God led me to it at some point.

When I decided to stop all the things, I did so because I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see that I mattered in the Kingdom. I couldn’t see anything being built through me (with Christ) in the Kingdom. To be honest, all that I was doing when viewed through the eyes of another looked very foolish. And I am one who hates to have an egg or pie face. I don’t like to look or feel foolish.

My ministry being unique, it is hard to build value for it when others don’t have a similar ministry or even when no one really sees it. I tried to set it aside knowing that it is something I am built to do, that I can’t really not do — knowing that I would probably keep doing it, if just a little.

You see God and I have this long history. I believe He called me into ministry. But I’m not in the jungles of somewhere serving Christ. And I don’t work at a church, and no one really thinks of this little chica as a minister with a ministry. I am just a mom and a mediocre wife.

Maybe the thing is I want some sort of ministry title to give me significance, even if my importance is simply because God made me and put me on planet Earth to breath out His glory.

But the thing is, I often don’t know if God has really told me to do anything or if I made everything up in my head. Do I really know anything or nothing? I easily doubt that I know anything about what God has directed me to do or not do because I get it wrong like almost 80-90% of the time.

When God thwarts the growing of all the things you try to do, eventually you get the message that maybe that’s not what you should do. I’m thick-headed, so it took me a hot minute or several long years.

I decided that maybe I had gotten it all wrong. At 42, I thought I would have a sense of purpose outside of me. I hoped I would have a flourishing ministry, a happy family, and a lot of things that are now hard for me to hope for — even on a good day.

So imagine my surprise when, on Sunday, God spoke to me while sitting in middle school ministry listening to the co-leader teach middle schoolers. (Irony, anyone? anyone? Just me. okay)

He showed me that I had been living scared. Immobile. And all because I was afraid of all the things. And what He said was that I should be sharing and writing. Perhaps even when it doesn’t make sense, have a purpose, and is scary to do so. {None of the writing professionals are going to tell you to write wihtout a purpose. None of them.}

Me and God:
Me: How can I write when I have nothing to say?
Him: Do it anyway? Just write.
Me: Okay, you are sounding very much like some writer coach. I, literally, have nothing to say. No smart tidbits. No unique insights. Nothing interesting or super applicable. Nothing that seems shareable from my time in the Word. I got nothing.
Him: staring me down.
Him: You think I can’t use that?

So here I am today. Showing up. Writing scared about a little tidbit of my life that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of all that is important.

How curious it is that God would want me to keep doing something that feels like nothing! Maybe He is making something new I cannot see and do not have an inkling of awareness of.

Even today, I don’t have a fluffy, this-is-what-I-learned bow to summarize this post. I still cannot see my place in the Kingdom. I only know that I have one. This leads me to write in faith, blind to my significance. I write curiously, openly, obediently to see where He leads even if seemingly nothing happens. At this moment, I am blind to His work in and through me. All I know is when you cannot see, choose faith. Mysterious, beautiful faith.

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