Smelling Salts For The Church

Let me begin by saying I hate math. I struggled my way through high school algebra only to discover I had to take algebra again in college. What the heck is that all about?!? In September of 1998 (am I really that old?), I squared my shoulders and walked with a facade of confidence spread thinly over myself. After I crammed myself into a postage stamp desk, the middle-aged Algebra 101 professor began waxing on eloquently about our inner child and inner math student and how we needed to corral them with our inner teacher.

*blink, blink* 

I never did find my inner teacher, so I dropped out. 

Fast forward a year and algebra was still blank on my transcript. Fine. I'll try again. I stood in the doorway for a full three seconds in disbelief. There, greeting the students, was good ol' Professor Inner Child.

I turned on my heels and beat a hasty retreat. 

I'm still not sure what his spiel was all about. I'm not sure if he really believed what he was saying, or if he was just trying to hook us with a quasi-spiritual connection to math (of which none exist-don't argue this point). Was he appealing to our emotions? Was he just trying to be relevant to college-aged kids? I have absolutely no clue. What I do know is he should have stuck to what he knows: Mathematics.

Church, we need to stick to what we know: The gospel. 

We don't need to hook people with quasi-spiritual programs. Yoga for Jesus every Tuesday at 6 pm.*  We don't need to prey on emotions by playing tear-jerker videos every week depicting starving orphans and lonely prisoners. Pyrotechnics and cafes. Disco balls, fresh paint, upgraded lapel mics. We're no longer sticking to what we know. We're finding ourselves sticking to welcome packets and attendance sheets. None of these things are bad, but the gospel shouldn't be playing second fiddle to it.

Here's one easy step to cultivating a dying church: Try to be relevant. As fast as we can "Wow" them in the front door, they're sneaking out the back during "greeting time". Obviously our efforts at relevancy have flopped. If it weren't so, church attendance would be booming right now. Silent church bells and dilapidated steeples are the smelling salts for the church. Let's awaken, stop trying so hard to be relevant and begin being an authentic, gospel-led people. We needn't worry about relevancy. The gospel is always relevant. We don't need to dress it up in ladies' tea luncheons, western round-ups and seizure-inducing youth services. We've dumped enough money into state-of-the-art this-and-that. What this world needs is people to invest in them, who genuinely care about them. They need people who remember their biopsy results were today or that their son is with his dad this weekend. Inviting them to more programs will not be nearly as effective as inviting them into our home and lives.

Third time was a charm. A new professor made all the difference. He stuck to what he knows and I have the grade to prove it.***

Let's stick to what we know and relax our grip on the rest.


Prying My Fingers Loose,
Cynthia




*Whew! I no longer need to feel conflicted about whether I'm selling my soul to the Devil every time I do the eagle pose.**
**Just kidding. I've never so much as attempted yoga, but it sounds like exercise. 
***Unfortunately when I transferred it counted as an elective. You've got to be kidding me.

Let Them: A Saturday Series

This first Saturday series is called "Let Them". There are so many things we just big, fat don't let our kids do. I'm meeting some of those things head-on and seeing what happens.

Let Them Juggle Knives

Well, OK. Maybe juggling isn't the brightest idea, but "Let Them Use Age-Appropriate Sharp Instruments" is just so dry and cumbersome, don't you agree?

Let me begin by saying, that YOU know your kids better than anyone else. You know if it's a good idea to let your six year-old handle a knife. This is my experience based on the children we currently parent.

Our oldest is nine. She's a girly-girl, with a tomboy streak buried in between layers of nail polish and lip gloss. A while back, she got the notion to whittle a stick. My husband handed her his Leatherman and let 'er have at it. She uses paring knives on a daily basis. Our second oldest is six. The Leatherman is harder for her to control, but she has tried her hand at whittling as well. When Mikayla doesn't cut up the snack, Naomi will grab a paring knife and do the job herself. 

For Mikayla's birthday last year, I decided that a Spirograph would make a fantastic gift. Imagine my horror when I discovered that all the new Spirographs are magnetic! No more push pins to hold the pieces down? What?!? How else will my child learn the delicate art of not stabbing her fingers with push pins? I'll tell you how. We bought an old Spirograph off of Ebay and provided our own weapons thumbtacks. 

It's OK for children to handle sharp objects. They will survive. A generation ago, children carried pocket knives to school.* Not once, in all my school years did someone get seriously injured with a knife. This is merely a symptom of a greater problem; We (as a society) are preoccupied with safety (our own as well as our children's). We cannot insulate our children from every danger and potential harm. Therefore, we may as well encourage our children to learn safe handling of "dangerous" tools. Trade out "sharp" for "pointy", "loaded", or any other conceivably risky gizmo. The message remains the same: Let them!

I'm giving you permission (if you feel you need it) to pop the bubble around your kids and let them live dangerously (not irresponsibly, just dangerously). Where else better to be trained to live dangerously than in one's own home with one's own parents? 

If I can't bring myself to let my children live dangerously with a 2" blade, how will I ever train them to live dangerously for the gospel?  


Next Up: A Whet Stone,
Cynthia




*Confession: It may have had something to do with growing up in a hick town (which I unashamedly loved). 

Where Was Jesus?

My heart breaks for these families. There is an irreparable hole in the lives of scores of families today. There is never a good time for such evil, but Christmas is an especially shattering time of year for such a senseless atrocity. A random blogger, saying they're praying for these families seems paltry, but just in case someone connected to this calamity is reading this, I'm so sorry for your loss and you are in my prayers.

In the wake of the Connecticut tragedy, blame is being slung all over the place. It's the gun's fault! It's the school's fault! It's the local government's fault! It's Adam Lanza's parents' fault! It's some counselor-somewhere-who-once-had-a-conversation-with-Adam's fault! 

May I make a suggestion?

It's Jesus' fault. 

Bold (and slightly sacrilegious) statement.

The Lanza family obviously had some struggles. Where was Jesus when their marriage failed? Why didn't Jesus reach out to them and dig deep into their hurting lives? How is it that Jesus was too busy to befriend a young man described as being "a little bit different"?* Didn't He think this family was worth His time and attention? I mean, sure it can be messy to truly invest in others, but think about how much brighter Friday, December 14th would have been had Jesus shown some compassion, friendship and love to this family. Maybe all Adam needed was just someone who could offer professional help. Maybe all Nancy needed was the support of other women who understood how difficult it is to be a single mom.

We are called to be Jesus' hands and feet. The blame is ours. We have failed yet again. I understand that every potential intervention may not have halted Friday's tragedy. We still should have been the hands and feet of Christ for the sake of the gospel. It's not just about reaching out to the families reeling from loss. It's also about reaching out to the people who seem "a little bit different". It's too late to rewind this piece of history, but it's not to late to rewrite the next chapter. However, our motivation cannot be that of self-preservation. Our motivation must be Christ and Christ alone. We don't get messy in people's lives in order to avoid tragedies in this life (although there is value in that). We get messy in people's lives in order to avoid the greatest tragedy: A life apart from God. 



Praying For Unquenchable Boldness,
Cynthia




*According to an ABC interview with Barbara Frey. 

Playing It Safe

This may seem contradictory on the heels of Monday's post. Too bad.

Do you know that there are companies who sell helmets? I'm not talking about bike helmets or football helmets. I wish I was. There are actually helmets for babies to wear so they don't bump their precious lil' noggins while they're crawling around (eating dog food and who knows what else off the floor). There are slip-proof knee pads for new crawlers (can you see my eyes rolling?). These two products are the most ridiculous "safety" items I've heard of. There are countless products designed to keep babies and kids safe. I dare you to Google it. 

By the time we suit them up with all this safety gear, they won't be able to move. 

Call me a minimalist. We cover the outlets and teach our children which cabinets and doors they are allowed to open. 

Before a bunch of people start coming to the defense of their favorite safety item, let me state that I willingly admit there are situations where minimal safety precautions would be grossly inadequate.

But.

This preoccupation with safety is a symptom of a much greater sickness. We're creating impenetrable safety nets around ourselves, our families and our ministries. My and my family's safety comes before anything. I don't stop for hitchhikers because they might be serial killers. I don't volunteer at the homeless shelter because they're unpredictable. I don't want my teen to go on a mission trip to Mexico because there are drug lords roaming the streets. 

Catching my drift?

It's a slippery slope, friends. Pretty soon we're contented to merely survive this life and be able to retire comfortably. We're not doing the hard business of loving. Do you know how elusive service projects are for kids of all ages? My oldest daughter is barely old enough to help on-site at a few ministries in our large city. We've been turned down for much-needed volunteer positions because my girls would need (and I would want them) to come with me. Even in our ministries we've placed precautions above gospel-passion. 

The result? We are suffering from a self-inflicted paralyzation. A widening age range of people don't know how (and don't care to learn) to serve outside themselves. Safety and comfort are all they've known. Instead of hands-on love, we've relegated our "service projects" to promising to pray for someone and cushy mission trips in which the highlight is going to Disneyland and the beach. 

By the time I suit up myself and my family with all the "safety gear", we are unable to move for the Kingdom.

 Abandoning the constrictive safety nets does not necessitate abandoning common sense, but we need to recognize that Jesus doesn't always work within the confines of common sense.* Last I checked Jesus was a risk-taker. It's rather convenient to ignore that little tidbit from the Bible. By nature, I personally am not a risk-taker. I'm a consider-the-worst-case-scenario kinda gal. I get nervous when I think about my children riding Ferris wheels.** But I should not let my fears dictate the gospel. And neither should you. 

Can we begin slicing though the safety nets and watch what God can do in a life lived outside restrictive safety?


Scissors In Hand,
Cynthia




*I'm pretty sure Jesus is OK with fire extinguishers and similar apparatuses.
**I'm a work in progress, people.