Does my work matter?

So it came about when Moses held his hand up, that Israel prevailed, and when he let his hand down, Amalek prevailed. 

Exodus 17:11

Moses stands on top of a hill, observing the battle. He's not in the battle, so to speak, but watching from a safe distance. Joshua is the one who's in the fray, leading the army in the fight. 

But Moses notices that when he raises his hands (in which he is holding the Staff of God), the Israelites dominate, and when he lowers his hands, the Israelites lose. Suddenly Moses is not just a distant oberver, but one who is affecting the outcome of the battle. 

What is going on here? Does God's power to help the Israelites really depend on Moses' stance? If God is, indeed, the omnipotent God of the universe, why in the world would Moses be required to do these hilltop aerobics? 

I've been thinking a lot about this story, wondering what it teaches about God's work and my work. I'm fairly Reformed in my theology, believing that God in sovereign over all; yet, stories like this tell me that God somehow invites, values, and even depends on human participation. 

It's the phrase "depends on" that makes me cringe--that challenges my theology. If God is truly sovereign, then can He depend on His own creation to enact His own will? Not must He, but can He?

Something in me really prefers to think of God as acting outside of and apart from human participation. Life just feels safer that way. I like the theology that lets me believe that everything depends on God and nothing depends on me. This is the only way that things can turn out right, right?

But Moses had to raise His hands.

And when Moses gets tired, God doesn't say, "No problem, Mo! I gotcha covered. Thanks for doing your little bit, but the hand business was just a gimmick to make you feel needed. Take a break, rest your weary arms, and I'll clean up this mess on my own." Moses is not let off the hook, even when the job exceeds his abilities. This is where Aaron and Hur come in.

But Moses’ hands were heavy. Then they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it; and Aaron and Hur supported his hands, one on one side and one on the other. Thus his hands were steady until the sun set.

Exodus 17:12

The task that God gives Moses to do is too hard for Moses to do alone. So he has to get help. And in the end, the Israelites win. 

Why? Because God was with them. And because God worked through them. Time and time, throughout scriptures, we see this same phenomenon: God enacts His will through human participation. He's sovereign, so he doesn't HAVE to do it that way. But He's sovereign, so He CAN do it that way. 

And I think God is still choosing to enact His will through human participation. Which means that the way I spend my life matters. What I do and say matters. The things that seem small and insignificant are impacting lives and winning (or losing) battles. 

God is depending on me.

Dang, that sounds blasphemous for some reason. Why would God depend on creatures that He knows are flawed and broken and weak? Sounds like risky business to me! If I were God...

Yes, if I were God, I would do everything myself. Then I could be sure that things would be done perfectly.

But God, who is perfect, does not seem to need perfection from me. He chooses to depend on my imperfect participation. In fact, messy human participation is an overarching theme in God's great story--from Abraham to Jacob to Moses to Rahab to Ruth to David to Jonah to Peter to Martha to Paul. None of them did God's work perfectly. All of them participated imperfectly. Yet, all of their works have been woven into the story that continues still today.

So as I ponder the story of Moses and the battle of the Amalekites, I'm discovering some things that apply to my life and the way that God is asking me to participate in His work in the world: 

1. The importance of self-awareness: Moses was aware of his stance, and the impact that his stance was having on the situation. Am I aware of my stance in any given situation? Do I pay attention to how that stance is affecting other people or the circumstances in which we find ourselves?
2. The importance of community: Moses was unable to complete his task on his own. It had nothing to do with his willingness or his obedience, he simply did not have the strength he needed. He had to depend on others. When God invites me to participate in His work, do I take a Lone Ranger approach, or do I follow God's lead and choose to depend on others? Do I, like God, eagerly invite the participation of broken people? Will I value participation over perfection?
3. The importance of intercession: Moses held his ground as an intercessor, he didn't run into the battle himself when things looked bleak. I can be tempted to try to get involved in battles that are not mine to fight. Often my role, like Moses', is to watch and pray, not go and fix! This is a place of great faith, believing that God will act in response to my prayer; trusting that holding vigil might be my best contribution to a victory.
4. The importance of praise: At the end of the battle, Moses built an altar, naming it "The Lord is My Banner." Moses did not mistake his own participation for the reason that Israel was victorious. As Moses lifted up God, the Israelites won. The power for victory is only ever present when God is present and lifted up. Can I fully participate in God's work without seeking the glory for the outcome? Do I remember that God is always the perfector? And do I praise Him for every victory?

Moses built an altar and named it TheLord is My Banner. Exodus 17:15

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Christmas Eve

Our little church decided to reach out to those who might be isolated or alone for Christmas by hosting a progressive dinner party on Christmas Eve. We put out notices on FaceBook, and some church members even took to the streets on Christmas Eve Day, inviting anyone who did not have plans for the evening to join us.

The party began at 7 pm in our apartment, with appetizers and a game. We were 16 people all together--strangers sharing an evening of friendship and food.

We divided into four teams, and each team was given two rolls of toilet paper, a carrot, some buttons, and a few other random supplies. We had fifteen minutes to make a snowman.

 

 

Chandler was the Master of Ceremonies for the evening, and he had the daunting task of choosing the "winning" snowman. It was serious business, as team members came to the defense of their beloved creations and lively debates broke out! Chandler had us all in stitches as he deliberated,  pointing out the strengths and weaknesses of each entry.

  

    

At last a winner was chosen, prizes were given, and at 9 pm we all bundled up for the 15 minute walk to the apartment where dinner would be served. Leaving our home, Chandler stuck the name of a famous person on the back of each guest. During the walk people had to ask each other yes or no questions to try to and figure out the identity that they had been given.

 

Once we arrived at our dinner destination, we sat around two large tables and shared conversation about anything and everything. The atmosphere was light and cheerful and there was lots of laughter.

All were invited to join us in the future, and some took information about times and locations of our services. The Williamson family was deeply blessed by the experience. I hope it becomes a new tradition. 

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What's Up?

Dear, dear friends! When things get quiet on the blog it's because life is hopping in real life! I hope that when you're not hearing from us, you're praying extra hard because that means we are running extra hard. I've entered into a travel season, and will be bouncing around the globe for a few weeks. But in the midst, I wanted to just give you a few highlights and prayer requests:

Church Plant in Old Lyon

• The People: We are loving our new home and already finding opportunities to engage our neighbors. I had an unexpected time praying with my new language helper, and I think God is already at work in her life. We have invited  all of our neighbors to an Open House this Saturday, and they all seem eager to come. Pray for the seeds of friendship to be planted and for open doors to the Gospel.
• The Need for a Building: Two of us from the team went to a meeting with the deputy mayor last week to make inquiries about abandonded buildings in the neighborhood. There are many vancant, vandalized buildings that do not have any contact information on them and we wanted to find out how to get in touch with the owners. We did get some leads, and today another team member is going to attempt to track down some phone numbers of owners through the avenues suggested by the mayor's office. Please pray for success! And that the Lord would lead us to just the right location. We'd like to be able to use the location for not only church services, but daily prayer meetings and also as a means to bless the community, perhaps through art exhibits or offering shared office space to starting entrepreneurs. 
• The Team: As we get together twice daily to pray for the city, the project, and each other, the Lord is knitting us together as a team. I am so excited about the gifts and experiences that each person brings to the table. David and I have started training two members on how to preach, and for the past three Sundays we have worshipped together as a team and then our teammates have practiced preaching to us. This gives them an opportunity to try out their new skills without too much pressure, And we are also able to give them feedback to help them contiue to grow and develop.

Other Ministry Endeavors

• Regional Church Planting Training Center: Today David is at a meeting in Paris for those who would like to open regional church planting training centers. This is a big part of our vision for Lyon, as we don't want to just plant one church but help to facilitate a church planting movement in the city. Please pray for wisdom and resources as David seeks to put all of the pieces in place that are needed in order to be certified to establish a regional training center here in Lyon. We already have one guy who is asking about enrolling in the program--which we hope to launch in the Fall of 2016.
• Trampoline: I don't have the time to go into too many details at this time, but this is the name of a ministry that I am hoping to launch in France in 2016. I am in the throes of doing research and making contacts and laying groundwork, and the response from all sides has been highly positive. The purpose of the ministry will be to help new missionaries who are arriving in France to reach deeper levels of integration, higher levels of effectiveness, and  greater levels of longevity on the field. I'm sure I'll be sharing more about this in the future, but for the time being I could use your prayers as I seek to develop a program that honors the vision and calling of missionaries as well as the faithful work and wisdom of our French brothers and sisters.  
• Church Planting: On Sunday I will go to Madrid for a conference that will bring together leaders from 16 different European countries to talk about leading national processes for church planting. Over 80 leaders will attend, and the conference will be led by a consortium of european leaders who have had successful experiences in this endeavor--some of which are my French colleagues. I have been invited to lead the times of meditation/reflection for this conference. My prayer is this: Word of God, speak through me. 

Family Adventures

• Flying: After a year of dashed hopes and false starts, it looks like David may actually be starting to do some flying here in Lyon. He has built a business relationshp with a plane owner and a travel coordintor, and he is starting to receive requests for his piloting services. Our hope is that he would be able to fly one day a week, which would help to offset my seminary tuition costs and would give us some credibility/relatability in the eyes of our French friends and neighbors.
• University Students: Chan has jumped into medical school with both feet, and seems to have settled into a routine. Graham is regularly texting us about the diversity of speakers that he gets to hear at convocation at Liberty--you know, like David Platt one week, and Bernie Sanders the next. This week they had someone from Lord of the Rings.

Well, friends, that's a snapshot of our life at the moment. I've left a lot out, but at least I've hit the highlights. We are so thankful for your prayers. So thankful. In all of these things, we want to see Jesus lifted high.

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Seminary

As I sat in orientation for three days at George Fox Evangelical Seminary, I marveled at God's goodness. I have applied to graduate school four times in my life. I've been admitted to graduate school four times in my life. But for the FIRST time in my life, I have actually enrolled in graduate school.

We began each day in worship, and tears spilled out of my eyes because I could not contain my joy. My classes will not only change and challenge me personally, they will inform my ministry and equip me for the kingdom work before me. 

On Wednesday, each of our professors introduced themselves to us by sharing a bit about their personal interests and their research. Each one brings a wealth of wisdom and experience to the classroom, and each one appears to be sincerely passionate about the person of Jesus and his love for our world.

But the thing that I most appreciated about the orientation was getting to meet the other students in my cohort. Though we live all over the world, these are the 24 people with whom I will share a virtual classroom. These are the ones with whom I will wrestle, explore, discover, and be deconstructed. These are the ones that will challenge me, encourage me, teach me, and inspire me. And here's the thing: they are some of the coolest people I have ever met. I've only begun to know them, but I can already tell that my seminary experience will be richer, sweeter, and deeper because of their companionship. 

I was chatting with a friend the morning before I left for my first day at George Fox, and I said to her, "I hope I make a friend." 

I think I did.

I might have made 24!

I am SO excited about my classes. This semester I have four: Old Testament 1, Missional Ecclesiology, Knowing Self/Knowing God, and an Internship. I have piles of books that I get to read and I can hardly wait to crack the spines. I'm a little intimidated at the idea of writing reasearch papers--but I'm also strangely eager to write academically after writing professionally for so many years. All of this to say, friends, I'm living a dream.

And I am deeply grateful. 

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Are you more attached to the vessel or the treasure?

Dallas Willard never disappoints. He was an amazing theologian, author, and lover of God. I have been savoring his book, Renovation of the Heart: Putting on the Character of Christ, and today I reached the end. He finishes on a high point, talking about one of the most common problems of the Western church, which is a passion for the vessel rather than the treasure. Let me explain.

Photo Credit: Jordan Egli Photography

From the earliest days of the church, the treasure--the Gospel--has been delivered by means of  various vessels--or religious traditions. Even Jesus presented his message through the vessel of Judaism. And then the early church--where the people of God became unified based on creed rather than race--experienced a change of vessel. And from that time forward, through various times and cultures, numerous vessels have appeared. Some die out, other endure for centuries. Some cross borders, and other thrive only within certain people groups. All carry (or should carry) the same, priceless treasure.

But eventually, we lose sight of the fact that there is a difference between the vessel and the treasure, and we begin to elevate the status of the vessel, we fall in love with the vessel, and finally, we begin to bicker and fight over the truth and value of the vessel, all the while losing sight of that original intent of the vessel--which was to reveal the glory of the treasure.

Photo Credit: Jordan Egli Photography

I first began to experience the reality of the tension back when we did our pre-field training. At one point we were given an assignment to determine which qualities were essential in order for an organization to be considered a church (a vessel). We were given a two-page list of characteristics that read something like this:

• Baptism must be by immersion
• Baptism is accomplished by a sprinkling of water
• Infants should be baptized
• Children may be baptized
• Only adults can be baptized
• Communion is shared every week
• Communion is shared quarterly
• Communion must consist of wafer and wine
• Wine must not be used in communion
• Communion can be taken by visitors
• Children cannot take communion
• Only people who have been baptized may take communion
• Only people who have been baptized in our denomination may take communion
• Only people baptized in our church may take communion
• All members should tithe 10% of their gross income
• All members should tithe 10% of their net income
• All members should give cheerfully, as they feel led

Mind you, this is just a sampling of the list--it went on and on and on. For our assignment, we had to choose the items that were absolute non-negotiables for us in terms of a church. We thought and prayed and debated, and when we went to bed that night David said, "I've got two." and I said, "Me too. I have two non-negotiables." We had checked the same two items:

• The Bible is the inspired Word of God
• Salvation through Christ alone

Now that isn't to say we didn't have preferences or even strong beliefs about the other issues. But we had two non-negotiables--the least of all the people in our class. The next fewest was, I believe, seven. The class average was thirteen.

Photo Credit: Jordan Egli Photography

Here's the thing. We have to have a vessel. Even if we don't think it is essential to have communion X number of times per year, we need to decide how often and when we will take communion; similar decisions must also be made about baptism, worship styles, women in ministry, and how the gifts of the Spirit will be employed (or not). So you can't get away from having a vessel. But we must get away from turning the vessel into the treasure. Because when we don't, we start bickering over non-essentials, and sadly, that tends to be what the world knows us for. We take up denominational and traditional teams, forgetting that we share the same treasure. And then the glory of the treasure gets blurred by our silly skirmishes.

And why do we so easily come to blows?  Because we are afraid of getting something wrong. In fact, that is why we choose the vessels we choose--in an effort to protect the integrity of the treasure. And so with mostly good motives, we cling to the vessel, wrongly believing it to be the source of the treasure's strength. But the treasure has a strength of its own! The vessel is not needed to protect the treasure, only to display its glory.

Willard so wisely reminds the reader that we love being right so much that we do all the wrong things to defend our rightness. He writes, "Anyone who thinks God only blesses what is 'right' has had a very narrow experience and probably does not really understand what God has done for them."

Our pastor in the States once defined a denomination as "a group of people who all agree to be wrong about the same things." What he meant was that while most denominations believe that have gotten everything right, the truth is, we can't all have it all right. Which means that we all have some of it wrong. And yet, based on Willard's quote and my experience, God blesses us. Yes, he blesses us even though we have some things wrong.

Now that isn't to say that we shouldn't all do our very best to get as much as we can right when creating a vessel for the Gospel. But it is to say that we should be very wary of condemning or criticizing someone else's vessel. And even more importantly, we must hold loosely to our chosen vessel while clinging tightly to the treasure.

This is why David and I are thankful that we have experienced a broad range of denominations. This is why we have exposed our children to churches of various traditions. When you fully grasp the greatness of the treasure, the vessel carries little importance.

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves. 2 Corinthians 4:7

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A Leader Serves

It was shocking really, when he washed their feet. The task was so low, so loathsome, that the twelve would've rather left it undone than do it themselves. Known for arguments about who among them was the greatest, this ragtag group of disciples cherished lofty ambitions.

Foot washing was not on their agenda.

Jesus gives us a model for leadership that is counter-intuitive for even his most sincere followers. He takes the worst of the work and does it with the height of passion. He is not angry. He is not exasperated. He is not shaming them; he is leading them. I imagine him smiling, delighted with his chosen duty; tender, but thorough with the cleaning. He surely did the work well.

Servant Leadership has almost become a catch-phrase in Christian circles--an honored concept, but one I rarely see in practice. I say rarely because when I do see it, I find myself feeling what I imagine the disciples felt when Jesus picked up the basin and the towel. I feel a moment of protest, a twinge of regret over my own neglect of the task, and a profound admiration for the one who stepped up to serve. I am completely convinced of the merits of servant leadership, but often remiss to employ them myself.

After all, there are many leadership concepts that seem to be at odds with the idea of servant leadership. Where does delegation fit in? And what about giving people opportunities to grow into bigger responsibilities by starting with the lesser? And if the leader is always washing feet, who is casting the vision and directing the programs? But I am beginning to learn how to reconcile these seemingly opposing approaches.

First of all, I'm learning that service is incorporated into all that I do, but it is not focus of what I do. Jesus didn't only wash feet. He was not above doing it--but he was also not against letting someone else do it. He didn't teach Foot Washing 101 to the masses nor proclaim it in the temple. He just did it when it needed to be done, and then gently reminded his disciples that they needed to serve others in the same way. So while I need to be ready, willing, and able to do the lowliest of jobs, I do not need build my vision around those jobs. I do them so that the vision can be accomplished. I don't have to walk around with a mop and dust rag in order to be a servant leader--but I certainly better know where to find them and how to use them.

One of the best ways I can incorporate service into my leadership style is by making sure that my schedule has margin. Leaders tend to be Type A personalities, and Type As are notorious for being driven. We fill every hour of every day with important meetings, projects, and activities. Then, when we are faced with an urgent need, we don't have the means to meet it. Our agendas handicap our capacity to serve. In order to be able to wash feet, we can't be captive to the clock. The harried don't have time to notice the needs of others, much less meet them. Most servant leading happens in the context of the unanticipated, the overlooked, and the eventuality. When I don't have margin I leave the messes to others and miss the opportunity to practice servant leadership.

In order to try to leave room for foot washing in my life, I have started scheduling only 30 hours of my work week. This does not mean that I am only working 30 hours a week, it just means that there are at least 10 easily interrupt-able hours in my week. Before I find ways to make myself busy during those "unscheduled" hours, I assess the needs of those around me. Does David need for me to run an errand? Could I help clean the church? Is someone in our community ill? Could I take them a meal? Often, the need is obvious. Sometimes, no need arises, and I give my time to other tasks. But I find that this margin makes me more sensitive to others and more attentive to the feet that need washing.

Second, I'm learning to serve without keeping score. When it comes to the menial work of life, its easy to resort to humanistic approaches like "taking turns." While I'm all about sharing the work, score-keeping kills generosity and love. It's all too easy to settle for trade offs rather than servant-hood. "Your turn to do this dishes." "My turn to choose a movie." "Your turn to make the bed." "My turn to pick a restaurant." Always trying to get one's fair share is completely at odds with the concept of servant leadership.

David and I learned this early in our marriage. As I was typing, David just folded a load of laundry--for the third time today. He is not less busy than I am, he just keeps beating me to it. And then he came to me and asked, "Is there any way I can bless you today?" This is our marriage M.O. Each of us does the things that we notice need to be done. And then just in case we've missed something we ask, "Is there anything I could do to bless you?" In other words, "How can I wash your feet today?" Obviously, David is better at this than I am--but I'm inspired by him. And as he serves me in this way I am eager to imitate him.

In order to be a servant leader, I need to not only do the menial things that just need to be done, I need to approach my day with a "How can I bless YOU?" agenda (again, without running a tab). I'm sadly self-absorbed, and so in order to lead with this sort of other-focus, I have to build new habits into my life. When I am serving on a team, I check in with the others before checking out for the day and ask, "Is there anything I can do before I go?" I sometimes ask people on my teams to lead me--that is, I might say, "I'm not sure what all needs to be done here, but I'm more than willing to help if you can give me some direction." For on-going projects, I make a habit of checking in regularly with members of my team. I not only ask how things are going, I end each call or email with an offer of service. "Is there anything I can do to help or encourage you?" This doesn't flow from me naturally just yet, but I'm leaning into the process with the hopeful expectation that my heart is being transformed into the heart of a servant leader.

Finally, attitude counts. Doing any act of service with a heavy sigh and a spirit of exasperation pretty much negates the positive leadership effect of the effort. Sure, the job gets done, but the method was one of shame and disgust, not heartfelt service. I am sure that Jesus washed feet happily. He did not feel more important when teaching in the tabernacle and less important when kneeling before his disciples. He knew that in each instance he was doing his God-given task. A servant might fuss about her tasks, but a servant leader does the same tasks with sincere determination, care, and joy.

I can embrace any task with delight because I do it for the Lord. As the apostle Paul wrote to the Colossians slaves, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." Whatever...with ALL your heart. SO whether leading a charge or cleaning up after the horses; whether giving a speech or filling the water glasses of the listeners; whether directing the board or cleaning the board room--all is for the Lord.

For thought and discussion: How is your margin? Are you allowing time to serve the ones you lead? Are you ever tempted to keep score? What is your attitude when the menial tasks land on your plate? 

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When did I see you hungry?

After our English Carol Service last weekend, people hung around for fellowship and yuletide yummies. I was enjoying a super satisfying slice of shortbread and stimulating conversation when our pastor pulled me aside and I asked if I had any food prepared at home. Apparently, while English speakers were basking in the afterglow of the candlelight service, a young French girl with a baby had shown up hungry at the back door of the church. The stores were all closed. Christmas cookies wouldn't suffice.

Soak in the poignancy of that moment...I had just preached on the incarnation--God with us--and now I had the opportunity to practice it.

I bundled up, told David where I was running off to, and clip-clopped towards home in my high heeled boots. The boys, who had left church fifteen minutes ahead of me, were already reheating the homemade Chicken Noodle Soup that I had made the day before. Leftovers.

"Is there enough for three?" I asked.

When I told them why I needed a bowl of soup, they were eager to share. We scooped up steaming broth, veggies, chicken and noddles into a Tupperware bowl, and gathered some slices of bread and a few clementine oranges. It was a meager feast, but it was all I had.

And so the young mama ate that night.

We haven't heard from her since. Unlike in Paul Harvey's touching tales, in ministry, we rarely get "the rest of the story." We see the pain, we minister to the need, and we're left wondering if we really helped at all.

While I may never know what happened to the other girl in my story, I know what happened to this girl. This girl (who has never known a hungry day in her life) fed Jesus. In the midst of the celebration of his birth, I got the privilege of welcoming him into my ordinary life.

I pray and pray all through the Advent season that I would have a heart ready to receive him. But how often do I miss him when he comes?

I look for him among the stars, in angel choruses, and in the wrinkled pages of my Bible; I found him in the vulnerability of a hungry young mother.

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat...."

“Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you...?"

“...whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."

Matthew 25: 34-40

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English Carol Service

Last night our church had its 4th Annual Traditional English Carol Service. We were packed to standing room only for this event, which features not only Christmas carols but also scripture reading, candle-lighting, minced pies, and mulled wine. The majority of those who come are not members of our church, so it is a great way to reach out into the community.

As resident English speakers, our family usually has the privilege of participating in the production of this service. Last night David played guitar, Graham played bass, Chandler sang in the choir, I delivered the Gospel. Below you will find the story that I told as means of an introduction to my message. 

In the United States, where I grew up, school children always eat lunch at school. Some bring a sack lunch from home and others buy a hot lunch from the cafeteria, but all the students eat together in a giant lunch room. The only adults present during lunch are angry aids and administrators who had the misfortune of being assigned “lunch duty” and seemed to take their resentment out on the students. Needless to say, school lunches were not much fun for me.

One day, as I was walking with my classmates in a squirming line towards the lunch room, I noticed a stir. Looking up, I saw the source of the commotion.  It was my Dad. My Dad was an important business man who worked in a big office downtown. He wore tailored suits and wing-tipped shoes and he always carried a briefcase. He traveled all over the world and made mind-blowing presentations before brilliant scientists. I had known him to be in three countries in the course of a single week, but I had never seen him in the halls of my elementary school. I was so confused. What was my Dad doing at my school in the middle of the week? Why was he suddenly in my little world?

I broke all protocol, got out of line, and ran to him. He swooped me up in his strong arms, gave me a big kiss, and simply said, “I came to have lunch with you.” 

My Dad stood in the food line right by my side, he pushed his tray right behind mine, and then paid for both of our meals. He followed me to the table, and then somehow folded his enormous body into the tiny chair next to me. His knees were practically touching his ears, but he didn’t seem to care. And then all my friends and classmates gathered around, each one wanting a piece of Mr. Dennis. We regaled him with our tales, showed him all of our tricks, and told him all of secrets. My dad told us stories of his school days, asked us all sorts of questions, and smiled broadly. On the one hand, it was a bit bizarre to have him sitting at my grubby little lunch table, there in my childhood context. In his presence my world suddenly seemed smaller and dirtier. On the other hand, it was comforting to see that he was exactly the same person here as he was at home—gentle, funny, kind, charismatic, upright, respectable, and even in-charge.

That event was a long time ago. But it still moves me. My Dad could have dined at any restaurant in town. But he chose, that day, to come to my world. He chose substandard food, a sticky table, and a bunch of noisy kids. And he delighted to do it.

In a way, my Dad’s trip to my Elementary school is a picture of what God did for us at Christmas. We can easily overlook, as we imagine that helpless baby on the hay, that he, the swaddled one, was the Creator of the Universe. He was the great I Am, the one who parted the Red Sea, the Holy One of Israel. He left his heavenly downtown office for this messy lunchroom that we call earth. Imagine the Eternal God folding himself into the confines of human flesh so that he could dine at our lowly table. So that he could listen to our hearts, look us in the eyes, tell us of his love, and demonstrate his goodness.

That, in a nutshell, is what separates Christianity from every other religion known to man. Every other religion tells us what we need to do to reach God. But Christianity teaches that God reached down to us. The God of the Christian faith is simply the God who showed up.

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Ministry is Messy

Ministry is messy.

If you don't get that, you're missing out.

For many years my church experience was rather sterile. People who went to church were well-mannered. Everyone came to services clean and smelling good. Nothing unexpected happened.Obedient congregants stood when they were supposed to stand, sang what they were supposed to sing, sat quietly during the sermon, and left smelling as good as they did when they arrived. Our biggest problem was a misspelled word on a power-point slide. Everything was neat. Orderly. Predictable.

And I liked it.

I knew what to expect when I went to church. It was comfortable. It was familiar. And why shouldn't it be? Isn't God a God of order? Isn't he good and holy and perfect and clean-smelling? Shouldn't church reflect that nice, neat God? I knew all the reasons for "excellence" in a service. I understood that we needed to offer our very best to God. I delighted in knowing that faithful men and women devoted their time each week to the production of a service that would be glorifying to God and honoring to those who came to worship him. And I know, really I know, that the motives behind those fabulously flawless services were good and right.

But lean in close so that you can hear my heart. Let me whisper something that the Lord has been slowly, patiently revealing to my soul which is soiled by an inordinate attachment to tidiness. Ministry--real person-to-person, life-to-life, broken vessel-to-broken vessel ministry--is messy.

Loving the neighbor who truly believes that aliens are living in his attic--that's an adventure. Figuring out what to do with his eager participation in worship services--that's messy.

Realizing, as you swallow the communion wine that has just been handed out, that the wine has gone bad and tastes like vinegar--that's messy. Seeing faces contort as they try their best to swallow rather than spew--that's messy too.

Watching my teenage son escort an obese woman home after prayer, knowing that he has purposefully, significantly slowed his steps to meet her pace--that's beautiful. Knowing that she is undoubtedly rambling on about inappropriate topics, and watching him listen with respect nonetheless--that's messy.

When the African woman prays aloud, prayers full of truth, laced with scripture--that's amazing. But when the prayer that should have lasted 30 seconds goes on for five minutes, ten minutes, even longer--then what? Then ministry gets messy.

When the pastor makes mention of pornography in a sermon, and his ten year-old daughter raises her hand and asks, "What's pornography?" That's messy.

When those on the fringes lead others to Christ--and we scratch our heads and wonder,"Which one of us is really on the fringe?" That's messy.

When we suddenly become aware that all have entered the house of the Lord with baggage, and that those suitcases are filled with everything from mental illness to poverty to histories in the occult, and when the baggage is brought right through the doors of the church and laid bare for all to see--well a nice sterile service just might not be possible. Things might get messy.

The spiritual control-freak in me panics. The spiritual neat-freak in me starts looking for a spiritual broom. And the spiritual perfectionist in me wishes everyone would close up those suitcases, take them home, and hide them in the back of the closet where they belong. That stuff does not smell good. Could someone light some incense? I'm pretty sure church is supposed to smell good.

And then I get a glimpse of Jesus, who is neither panicking nor plugging his nose. Nothing laid bare was beyond his knowledge. He already knew about the problems and their stench. He's glad to have all of the people with all of their baggage in his house. He loves the unlovely. He touches the untouchables. He blesses the broken.

Often I find myself overwhelmed by the messiness of ministry, unsure of how to help, drowning in a wave of needs. But when I see how Jesus loves them--how he loves us--I realize that I don't have to have all the answers. I just have to lead them to the one who does.

We have a Savior that isn't afraid of our messes. A Lord that doesn't recoil from our stench. A God who chose not to stay sterile in his heaven, but humbled himself to take on our dirt.

He unpacks each suitcase in the shadow of the cross, he bleeds his redemption into every tangled mess. And he delights to do it, because the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost.

Church, are we the instrument of his grace? Will we welcome and serve the ones he loves, even when the work is messy? Even when it means our service might not go as planned? Or will we forget that we, too, stumbled into his courts naked and blind, wretched and poor?

Ministry is messy. And hard. And worth it.

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A Constant Stream of Company

For the first time in about 87 months, we have a week with no guests scheduled to eat or sleep at our house. Now I'm not saying that I don't like visitors. Au contraire. Je les adore ! (I love them!)

Nevertheless, I'm taking full advantage of the break:

I actually left the guest bed UNmade for three whole nights. Just because I could.

I haven't cooked a square meal or set the table all week. (David and Graham are in the States, and Chandler and I are subsisting on three main food groups: Magnum Bars, popcorn and cheese.)

I showered for a full 30 minutes this morning because I wasn't at all worried about saving hot water for anyone else.

I left dishes in the sink over night because I wasn't even close to running out of clean glasses.

During the day I actually stop and listen to the silence in my house. I thank God that I don't have to make conversation with anyone. Even my prayers are wordless.

 On Saturday, I swear, I did not get out of my jammies.

I am SO SO SO blessed by all the wonderful people who have come to visit us.

But I am also blessed by a few quiet days chez Williamson. Thank you, Jesus!

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New Creation

It seems to happen every September.

A little dark cloud moves into my world and settles itself over my heart. My mood dips. My attitude falters. My hope diminishes. My joy evaporates. My perspective changes.

I am lost.

And then the accuser comes:

"You wretched thing! How can you be so ungrateful? Didn't you just have a lovely vacation? You should be rested and happy!"

"You lousy missionary! You should be full of the Lord, daily proclaiming his glory! How dare you choose to hide!"

"You pathetic Christian! You claim that Jesus has transformed your life, but you look no different than the rest of the world. Worn. Desperate. Hungry."

I woke up Monday morning to these voices, which seemed to crash down like an anvil on my chest. I couldn't move. I couldn't breath. I couldn't pray.

Then he spoke. Words so gentle, their soft truth relieving the crushing pressure. "You don't have to go there."

He lifted me from my bed, carried me to the church where our tiny community gathers for prayer. After worship and reading the word, I knew, I knew that God was showing me the exit ramp--and it was fast approaching. Would I get off of this highway to depression? Could I really choose NOT to go there? Or would I just fake it?

Freedom from captivity always involves bringing our darkness into the light. There is no other way.

Reluctantly, courageously, I opened my mouth. In a whisper, in French, I confessed my condition. "I'm battling depression. It happens every year, and I want to break the cycle. I believe that God can keep me from falling into the pit, but I need help."

That was my attempt to steer my life toward the exit. It was all I could do.

And they prayed.

Monday the sun broke through the clouds. Tuesday I awoke in my panicked estate once again, but this time I could pray, I could hope, I could believe. The clouds parted. Today I woke rested, calm, trusting. The cloud is no longer there. Glory to God.

I don't have to go there. I am a new creation. Saved. Changed. Liberated.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! 2 Corinthians 5:17

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Drenched!

Caught in a total downpour. Not a drizzle. Not a sprinkle. A DOWNPOUR.

I was at the park in Loches with 11 cute kiddos ages 4-10. We don't normally do Sunday School in the summer months, but the sermon was going to be on the topic of Spiritual Warfare and our pastor thought it might be a bit scary for the younger ones. So Chandler and I took them to the park for a game of Hide and Seek.

During the third round, drops began to fall. By the time everyone had been found, it was all-out raining. As we huddled under a tree, contemplating the 10-minute walk back to church, the downpour began.

These are the kinds of moments that test my leadership abilities. Ask me to choose a Bible study curriculum for women, and I'm all over it. Looking for someone to plan a retreat? I gotcha covered. But strand me in a park during a monsoon with 11 small children, and I'm at a total loss. What to do?

So I asked the kids, "Would you rather wait out the storm under this tree, or run back to church through the rain?"

"RUN!" was the unanimous response. And they took off.

It was one of those "I'm their leader! Which way did they go?" moments. Maybe this is why I'm not asked to teach Kidz Club very often. 

Chandler took off after them, corralling the sprinters, while I lagged behind, prodding the stragglers. Once we were all reunited, I gave them a little clearer direction. I thought it might be a good idea to return to church with the same number of children I left with, so I did a quick head count. Then I said that we would jog back, but in an orderly fashion. I took the lead, and Chan took the rear, and the 11 chicks were required to stay between us.

Rivers of water ran through the streets as we sloshed and splashed our way through the village, garnering sympathetic looks from people huddled under awnings and in door frames. Sopping wet, breathless, and happy as can be, we finally arrived at church. I numbered each one as they skipped past me into the church, but declined to enter myself.

Horror of horrors, I was wearing a thin, white summer t-shirt which no longer provided me with a stitch of modesty. Crossing my arms, I nodded to David from afar, signaling my intention to head home. Chandler, who was just as soaked, joined me.

I wrung myself out, toweled myself off, and snuggled into my PJs. Twenty minutes later, David and Graham walked home in the shining sun, perfectly dry. You gotta love summer storms! 

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The Birthday Party

Games that involved 228 Skittles, 587 raisins, and 396 Peanut m&ms +

17 adults, 12 kids, and 2 languages +

3 kilos of ground beef, 3 kilos of potato salad, and 3 fresh baked apple pies =

1 swell birthday party for 2 Williamson boys!

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And Jesus Stopped

We live in community. Which means that our lives are woven together with those around us in very practical ways. Day by day. Hour by hour. It makes life very interesting!

Take Friday, for example When we woke up, we had TWO items on our agenda for the day: Clean the house and finish our preparations for the Good Friday and Easter services at church. Two do-able things.

However, at morning prayer I was asked if I could host twin three-year-old boys at my house for lunch while their mother was at a doctor's appointment.

Then David was asked if he could take a neighbor to the food bank--she doesn't have a car and it is too far for her to walk.

Just as he got home from the food bank, our friends called, needing a ride home from the hospital in Tours--which is about thirty minutes away.

David was a taxi service. I was a child care. This is our life. And we like it!

By the end of the day, the house got cleaned (enough) and the church services got planned (mostly). We are learning to tolerate embrace the interruptions that come with living in community. Because that is what Jesus did.

While he was on his way to Jerusalem, someone interrupted Jesus. A blind man named Bartimaeus was begging on the side of the road, and he heard that the Nazarene was passing by. He began to cry out fanatically. Shamelessly. He was making a spectacle of himself, and the crowd was embarrassed by his antics. They tried to shut him up, but he shouted even louder.

"Son of David, have mercy on me!"

And Jesus stopped.

Jesus--the most important man in history, during the most important week in history--stopped. He set aside his own agenda, and took time to care for the needs of another. He did not shun the interruption, he honored it. And this wasn't a first for Jesus. He often stopped for children, foreigners, and sinners.

He is my model for what it means to live in community. With Jesus, people always come before plans, tenderness trumps tasks, and interruptions are embraced.

Oh, I am not there yet! I still bristle when I sense that my day has just been rearranged to accommodate the needs of those around me. I bristle, and then I think of Blind Bartimaeus. And I remember that Jesus stopped. And I ask him to stop me. 

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